Page 2 of Wicked Embers

“Save it,” I snarl, cutting through his bullshit. “You didn’t do this for me. This is all about you chasing that fucking pot of gold on a poker rainbow. You stole from me, your own daughter, to feed your sick habit. How could you?”

He sighs, a sound I’ve heard a thousand times before—the prelude to another elaborate excuse. “Now, Leigh, that’s not fair. I also distinctly remember asking you about this little loan. Remember? Yesterday, at breakfast?”

My blood runs hot. This man’s audacity continues to amaze me. “You’re unbelievable,” I hiss. “Mentioning in passing that you might need to ‘borrow’ some cash is not the same as giving you permission to clean out my account!”

“Come on princess,” my father wheedles. “You know I wouldn’t do this unless it was a sure thing. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Stop,” I grit through my clenched teeth. “Just stop. Dad, you went too far. This isn’t some game where you can charm your way out of trouble. This is my future you’re gambling away.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve finally gotten through to him. But then my father speaks, and I realize it’s just another calculated move in his endless con.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Leigh,” he says, his tone suddenly serious. “But I think you’ll change your mind once you hear what I’ve got planned. Why don’t you meet me at The Diamond Hotel, and we can discuss this face-to-face?”

I close my eyes, fighting the urge to scream.The Diamond Hotel and Casino—of course. Where else would he be?

“Have you already bet all the money away?”

“Meet me at the casino,” My father hedges, his silence saying more than his words.

“Fine,” I snap, gripping my ankle strap. “But this isn’t a negotiation, Dad. I’m coming for my money, and that’s it. I swear to fucking God, if you’ve already lost so much as a penny of it…”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” my father’s voice drips with honey-coated desperation. “You’ll be thanking me at the end of the evening. Right now, there is a high-stakes game going on in the Diamond VIP room. I’m talking about life-changing money.”

As the pieces click into place, my blood begins to boil. “You’ve already bought into the game with my money haven’t you?” I seethe, sitting on the sofa, securing my ankle strap. “My hard-earned cash is probably sitting in some mobster’s pocket right now.”

“No, no, it’s not like that,” he backpedals, but I can hear the lie in his voice. “I simply require a little more time and your presence. You’ve always been my lucky charm.”

I laugh, but it’s a harsh, bitter sound. “Lucky charm? Is that what you call the daughter you’ve used as a pawn in your schemes for years?”

“Come on Leigh—one more chance. With you here, I can win the pot. Think of what you can do in L.A. with twice or maybe even three times what you’d saved—“

“No.” My voice slices through his excuses, steely with resolve. “I’m done being your good luck charm, your safety net, or whatever the hell you want to call it. I’m only coming to the Diamond for one reason—to get my money back, and you’d better be standing there with fifteen thousand dollars in your hand.”

“But Leigh—“

I push myself up from the sofa. “Save it. I’ll be there soon.”

I hang up, my hand shaking with fury. As I grab my keys, I make a silent vow. This is the last time my father derails my life. I’m getting my money back, and then I’m gone—for good!

I snatch my purse from the coffee table, my mind racing. The familiar weight of it grounds me as I rummage through its contents: pearl pink tinted lip balm, pepper spray, a handful ofcrumpled bills—check. My fingers brush the cool metal of my lockpick set. I hesitate, then leave it be. You never know!

“Fucking bastard’s head’s going to roll if he’s lost my money,” I mutter, crouching to secure my phone in the ankle strap—a trick I picked up over the years. The device fits snugly against my skin, serving as a secret lifeline in case of an emergency and keeping me safe from pickpockets.

As I straighten, my gaze falls on the bus ticket on the table beside the front door. It’s sitting on top of a magazine about Los Angeles. The glossy images of glamorous shoppers and sun-soaked beaches mock me, reminding me that my bright future is slipping through my fingers.

“Not today,” I growl, tearing my eyes away. “I’m not letting my father steal another minute of my life.”

My mind races as I fly out of the apartment, accidentally slamming the door. “Sorry Mrs. Launders,” I yell, knowing the old busybody will give me another twenty-minute lecture on why young ladies shouldn’t slam doors if I don’t.

Before the old bat can emerge from her apartment, I am down the stairs and through the security door faster than Speedy Gonzales. As I barrel onto the sidewalk, I nearly collide with Tony Molteno’s broad chest. The warm aroma of fresh bread wraps around me, momentarily dulling the sharp edge of my anger and making my mouth water.

“Whoa there, firecracker!” Tony chuckles, steadying me with a gentle hand. His father, Luigi, peers over his shoulder, concern etched on his weathered face.

“Everything okay, Leigh?” Luigi asks, his thick Italian accent wrapping around the words. “You look like you’re about to go to war.”

I force a smile, but it feels brittle on my face. “Just taking care of some family business. Nothing I haven’t done a million times before.”

Tony’s warm brown eyes narrow, seeing right through my bravado. “Your dad again, huh? You know we’re here if you need anything, right?”

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