Page 17 of Unspoken Obsession

"Yes, baby. Then we will go home and make some chicken nuggets."

He nods, satisfied that he is getting chicken nuggets soon.

I stare out of the window, trying not to fidget.

Whatever happens - I will not let me father keep us there. That is my primary concern. His men could've kidnapped me at any time and they haven't - yet. So, me going to the house, or not going to the house will not make a difference.

We arrive at his mansion, and he is standing on top of the steps, like the 'king of the castle' waiting for the peasants to arrive. I get out of the car and pick Damion up.

Taking a slow, deep breath to settle my nerves.

"Dad," I say, walking up the steps towards him.

"Francesca, my daughter, it's good to see you." He steps aside and gestures for me to go inside.

Once we are in the house, he closes the front door and my throat tightens.

It's so strange being back in this house and there are far too many memories slamming into me right now.

"Is this my grandson?" My father says, tilting towards Damion.

Damion's little fingers grip tighter onto the shoulders of my jersey. He can sense something is off about this man. He isn't comfortable.

"This is Damion. Damion - this is my dad - your grandfather."

Damion scrunches his nose and leans his head against me. "Hello." His quiet little greeting comes out in a whisper.

"He's timid, isn't he? You can tell he wasn't raised by a man. It's good that you came back now while he is still young."

I grit my teeth, holding back the sassy reply I want to make, and instead opt to keep this visit as civil as possible. I knew my father would be his usual, cold self. I shouldn't let it surprise or hurt me.

His comment does make me wonder -- what are his plans for my son? Does he think I will let him teach my son about the mafia?

There is no fucking chance I will let that happen.

A new fear creeps in, the fear that my father intends to take my son from me because he is the perfect heir to his empire.

I push it away. There is no point in panicking now. Keep your head clear. Stay focused. Be polite. Keep it civil.

"We can't stay long, Dad. I need to get Damion home for dinner and bath time. I just wanted to say hello - and let you know I am back in Las Vegas."

"My men tell me you are going by the name Frankie now. Why is that? And who is the bastard's father?"

"It is nothing for you to worry about."

I'm going by the name Frankie to hide from my old self - the girl who lived under my father's oppressive rules. I don't want people to know that I am Francesca Musetti. I don't want them to associate me or my son with my father's name. I can't tell him that. It will only piss him off.

As for his question about who the father is. Well - I can't answer that because I don't know - and even if I did - it's none of his business.

I want to find out - even if I do it from a distance. He's here in Vegas somewhere.

My father huffs in annoyance and I can see his jaw clench. I've already upset him.

His eyes are cold and like daggers as he stares at me. His hair is a silver-gray, always sleek, and never a hair out of place. Even his close-cropped beard is silver now.

Yet, he doesn't look his age.

He looks sharp, and hyper-aware of everything around him. Decades of having to watch his back turned him into a paranoid control freak, driven by power he's a monster of a man.

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