Page 5 of The Devil's Deal

Chiara

Three Days Later

“Mom! Mom!”I shout, running into the living room where she’s wiping the coffee table while Dad watches TV. “Dominic is on the phone, and—”

“Are you fucking kidding me with that stupid boy again?” my dad hollers, running his hand through his black hair, not noticing the tears streaming down my face. Or maybe he notices, but doesn’t care.

“But, Dad, he—” I try to explain but he stops me with a sharp rise of his palm.

“I fucking told you about that family! How many damn times? Huh?” His cheeks grow red from the way he shouts. “They’re trash! You hear me?” His eyes grow wide, his cheeks getting redder. “And you tarnish our name by associating with them? My own fucking daughter?”

They’re not trash!I scream inside my head.They’re better than you! I hate you!

“Faro! She’s crying. Don’t you see something’s wrong?”

“Was I talkin’ to you?” He lifts a hand like he’s about to hit her, and I gasp. “Finish cleaning and shut your damn mouth when I’m talkin’ to my daughter.”

“His mom died, Dad. Can’t you be nice for a minute?!” I half-shout, half-sob with a pant. “He can hear everything you’re saying.” I lift the phone in the air. “Don’t you care?”

Mom’s body stills. The rag stops moving on the table.

“Wha-what did you say?” She turns to me, straightening up, her brows tightening.

“He said it was a car accident. He said she—”

My chin trembles, tears sting my nose, and my throat grows achy.

“Oh, Mom,” I cry, running toward her, phone still in my hand as she holds me tight.

She then takes the phone from me. “Dom, baby, I’m so sorry.”

She’s crying now, her tears falling faster than mine. There’s a brief pause.

“Oh, God. We’re coming by the house. Okay? You stay put. We’ll be there soon.”

She hangs up, holding me with both arms again.

“Go put on your shoes,” she tells me.

“You better not think about going there,” my dad spits out. “Send some goddamn flowers, but that’s it.”

She glares at him.

“We’re going. Those boys just lost their mother. I don’t care what you do to me,” she says with her chin high. “But I’m going, because I’m a fucking human being.”

My father’s face grows madder by the second, his thick brows dipping and his thin lips bending like an evil scientist. “One of my guys will take you. You’ll have one hour.”

Then he storms out, his footsteps heavy.

Mom exhales out a sigh of relief, wrapping the warmth of her arms around me, her hands gliding up and down my back.

“Why couldn’t it be him?” I ask, speaking so low into her ear, I don’t know if she even heard me.

“Don’t say that, baby,” she whispers. “I know he’s awful, but I don’t want you to think that way.”

“Well, I am.” I pull back, peering at her glazed eyes. “Why couldn’t he die?!” I whisper-shout. “Why do good people like Dom’s mom have to die?”

Oh, Dom.