Page 43 of Devil In A Suit

“Lara?” he calls and his voice sounds panicked. “You’re not at work. Where are you? Tell me where you are. Tell me where you are. Do I need to call the police? What?—”

“Dad,” I try to interrupt, but he keeps going, his voice completely broken, and I’m sure his heart is too.

“Dad!” I call out again, louder and sterner this time. I realize that I actually sound angry. I’ve never, in all my years of being his daughter, raised my voice at him, so he immediately goes silent.

“Dad, I... I’m fine. I was just... I was tired. I went to bed late and woke up late. I’ll come in to work a bit later.”

He immediately starts apologizing. “Oh! I’m sorry. I’m incredibly sorry,” he says, his voice filled with guilt. “I just couldn’t reach you, and I couldn’t sleep, and last night just seemed?—”

“I know,” I say, nodding even though he can’t see me. “I know. It doesn’t seem real, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he replies, his voice heavy with worry.

“Dad.” I soften my tone as I move toward the seat overlooking the city. The view is quite literally breathtaking. Far below people are hurrying somewhere. Always hurrying. Trying to squeeze out a buck from a merciless machine. Only yesterdayI was one of them. From up here they look like ants. Tiny and helpless.

“Lara?” my dad calls once again, pulling me back to my senses.

“I’m here, Dad, I just got distracted.”

“Where are you?” he asks. “I need you to tell me where you are because I want to come and get you. I don’t want you to do this for me. I’d rather rot in hell than allow him to lay a finger on you. I’ll never forgive myself if you’re subjected to this. I’d rather die.”

“You’re not coming to get me, Dad!” I cry.

“Well, in that case, come to the office right now, or I’m going to call the police, give them his name, and have him arrested. Do you understand me? I’m not joking, not for even a single second.”

“Dad!”

“That’s final,” he says.

Panic sets in because he’s about to hang up, and knowing him, he won’t respond again until the ten minutes are up.

“Dad—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupts again. And when I really want to say what’s in my heart, I have no choice but to yell.

“I want to be here,” I shout.

It feels like I’ve dropped a bomb. Neither of us can believe I just said that. I certainly can’t believe it, and I can’t ignore how I feel about it either.

“What... what did you say?” my dad asks, and I’m certain now that he’s trying to make me repeat those dreadful words. I refuse.

“Just...” I sigh. “Dad, I know you feel bad, and I know you want to fix this, even if it kills you, but I’m telling you I’d rather it not. I’m not doing anything that will harm me. I told you that... I told you that I know him. We’re close. This is strange,and he’s being aggressive about it, but it’s more of a friendly spat than anything else. It’ll be resolved, and if he’s really willing to spend this much to help us get through our problems, then I don’t understand why you want to stand in the way and create an unnecessary fight.”

He listens to me for a long while but doesn’t say a word, and with every minute that passes, my worry deepens. “Dad,” I call out again, trying to fill the silence.

“I know, based on my actions, you’re convinced that I’m a complete idiot, but I’m not. And I wasn’t born yesterday. No one spends that kind of money on anything unless what they’re receiving in return is a pound of flesh.”

I pause, swallowing hard at how accurate his words are, but of course, he absolutely does not need to know that.

“What he’s receiving is the house he’ll get from the deal,” I tell him, trying to sound convincing. “He’s just doing us a small favor by patronizing our agency instead of going to a much bigger one, and it’s because he knows me. He’s just making a fuss now at the beginning because I was rude to him, and that has everything to do with our past and nothing to do with you. So, could you please just stay out of it and back off? I have it all under control, and when it goes beyond my control, of course, I’ll call you for help. Who else would I go to?”

He is silent again for a long while, the pause dragging on until I can feel the tension building in my chest.

“I would believe this if I didn’t know who you are,” he finally responds. “But I do know who you are, and I’m very aware of the lengths you will go to, to ensure that I am not hurt, and this is why I fucking cannot sleep. You know, sometimes I wish that?—”

“Wish what?” I ask, my brows furrow. But he doesn’t respond.

“Nothing,” he says, and I shut my eyes again, frustration mounting.

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