Page 38 of Married to the Mafia Devil

He slumps into a chair. “If you’re here to kill me, get it over with, I’m too hungover for any yelling.”

“I’m not here to kill you,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. The smell of stale alcohol and neglect hits me as I walk further in.

He eyes me warily as I stand in the middle of the room. “Why have you been chasing me if not to kill me?”

“We need to talk about your daughter.”

“What about her?” he asks, his voice filled with anxiety. “Is she all right? Did you hurt her?” He straightens his back as if he could fight me. I find myself admiring him a little. Even though I could break his spine in an instant, he still wants to defend his daughter.

“She is the reason you’re alive,” I say. “She sees something in you I don’t. But that aside, your recent interaction with Petrovitch’s men hasn't gone unnoticed.”

He stiffens, his gaze sharpening. “I didn't tell him anything, if that's what you're worried about.”

“I’ve been talking to people, about the deal you made months back, the one that cost you your money.”

“What about it?”

“You never mentioned it was related to decryption. Hobby of yours?”

“Nothing came of it. If you want to buy the package, I can’t help you. Without funding I could never get it to work.”

“Why didn’t Petrovitch offer to fund it?”

“He didn’t know. The guys I met worked for him but they had no idea what they were stealing. They just wanted a mug. They bled me dry so they could hire me later to move the case. I was used, Matteo. Doesn’t feel good, being used, I can tell you. I let my kids down. I was just trying to make that right.”

I can’t help but smile. “So the one man who could help him decrypt the file in the case moved it and never got a look at it?”

“File? What file? Is that what was in the suitcase? Something encrypted?”

I nod. “I’m choosing to trust you here. It goes against every instinct I have but your daughter believes in you and I believe in her so I’m going to make you an offer and I seriously suggest you take it.”

He scoffs, a bitter sound. “Since when do you care about my well-being?”

“I care about Emma” I reply earnestly. “I’m giving you a chance to start over. My therapist worked with Amelia. Got her moving outside the apartment again.”

“What? That’s wonderful.”

“I’m offering you a chance too. Rehab, a clean slate.” I explain, watching him closely. His face remains unreadable, but there's a slight easing of the tension in his shoulders. “I pay for you to get clean. You see a psychiatrist I hire, deal with the grief that’s still choking you.” I nod at his widening eyes. “I’ve been where you’ve been. I know how much it hurts to lose someone you love but you can’t drink your way out of it. You have to man up and take the pain, do the right thing.”

“And what's the catch?” His voice is laden with a lifetime of disappointments.

“No catch. Just a father who's present and sober. She needs that, Mark. And deep down, I think you want it.” The words are not just a strategy but a genuine attempt to reach out to him. “You could run to Petrovitch and decrypt that file. Fuck over everything I’ve worked to build for the last five years. Or you could be the man your daughter thinks you could be and get sober, be a part of her life again.”

He's silent for a long moment, his eyes wandering around the cramped space that represents his current life. Finally, he looks up at me, something like resolve—or perhaps desperation—flashing in his eyes. “And if I agree, what happens?”

“You go to rehab. You get clean. And when you're out, you'll have a chance to be a part of her life again but sober. The pain doesn’t leave you but you face it head on. You confront reality instead of trying to avoid it.”

He nods slowly, a flicker of hope igniting in his weary eyes. “I think I’d prefer it if you’d shot me,” he murmurs, and it's the most commitment I've heard in his voice since we started talking. “I don’t know who you are anymore. I thought I knew the kind of man I was dealing with. This is unexpected. What’s going on?”

“I need to know what you’ve been to see Petrovitch about. I know he’s questioned you. Did he mention your decryption skills?”

“He had me brought to him. Wanted to know why you married Emma.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I had no idea. He told me to go away and find out before this deal goes through.” His brows furrow as if he’s just worked something out. “The deal. That real estate deal that’s been in the news. It’s you versus him, isn’t it? That file has something to do with it. What’s in that file?”

“You don’t need to know. Where does Petrovitch want the next meeting to be?” My heart beats faster at the thought I might finally be able to track down the son of a bitch.

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