Page 8 of Surprise Baby for the Don

“We’re going to be keeping a close eye on Rex this week,” I tell him darkly. “He’s made a lot of promises he can’t keep already, and we’re done enabling him. I’ve already told him if he steps a toe out of line, he can expect the full force of my wrath.”

Rocco nods, a delighted grin on his face. Despite himself, he loves watching scumbags get their due.

“What about the girl?” he asks warily.

“She’s going to stay here as my guest, and she’ll be treated with the utmost civility. Just because Rex is a piece of trash doesn’t mean she should be treated that way. But Rocco?”

“Yes, sir?” He nods, waiting for my instruction.

“I want to know more about this family. Get me information about their diner, about his other daughter. If he fails to pay the full amount, I need him to understand just how serious the consequences can be.”

“Of course” Rocco grins. “I’ll get the twins on it.”

With that, he leaves, and I finally get my coveted moment of silence. I lean back in my chair and squeeze the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache that’s building between my eyes.

I send word down to the house staff, asking them to prepare a guestroom for Ginny. I meant what I said, I’m not going to make her pay for the incompetence of her father. As long as she’s under my roof, she’ll be treated with the utmost respect. It’s the least I can do since Rex’s basically sold her to me for the next week.

5

Ginny

The whole walk to the car I can barely keep my thoughts in order. Dad’s dragging me along, muttering under his breath, and every time I try to ask him what in the world that meeting was about, he just shushes me like I’m a child asking too many questions. We get into his car and pull out onto the street, and he doesn’t seem willing to even breathe until we’re blocks away from Mateo Rossi’s place. Finally, when he seems like he’s not on the verge of a panic attack, I turn on him with all the fire I’ve been holding back.

“All right, Dad,” I snap, crossing my arms. “Are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about? What exactly is going on here?”

“Watch your tone, young lady,” he admonishes, but it comes out weakly. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s about to give some rehearsed speech. “It’s complicated, Gin.”

I shake my head, not buying it for a second. “I’m not an idiot, Dad. I don’t have a single high-profile client, and all of my projects so far have been small. Mr. Rossi has plenty of money,he could hire the best interior designer in the city. So cut the bullshit and tell me what’s really going on.”

At that, he winces, his shoulders slumping. He looks at me, but I can see the guilt and shame in his eyes even before he opens his mouth. “I owe Mr. Rossi some money, okay?” he answers quietly, his face pale. “It’s not a huge deal, Gin. I mean, yeah, there were a few bets here and there. But nothing serious. Just… Things got out of hand, all right?”

I don’t want to shout at him in this confined space, but I can feel the frustration boiling over.

“What do you mean things got out of hand?” I say, my voice slightly raised, though not nearly as loud as I’d like to yell at him. “Dad, you promised us you were done with this. That you wouldn’t gamble again. How could you…?” I trail off, searching his face, the lines there, the hollow look in his eyes. “How could you drag me into this mess?”

He looks down, unable to meet my gaze. “I didn’t plan for it to go this way, Gin. You have to understand, ever since your mother…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. It’s a tale as old as time, an excuse Cassidy and I have been hearing for years. How he started drinking and gambling to cope after Mom died, when we were too young to understand what was happening. We didn’t know that when he left at night, he was losing money we couldn’t afford, chasing something he thought would bring him luck. All those years, we’d watched him spiral, seen him blow everything we had left on another gamble, another drink.

It’s why Cassidy chose to go to culinary school in California. She wanted to get as far away from our deadbeat father as possible.But she felt so guilty leaving me, she decided to come back as soon as she could.

He’s an albatross around our necks, the thing that keeps us from being truly great. If it weren’t for him, maybe we’d have enough money to truly pursue our dreams and get out of Chicago. But if we did that, he’d probably drown in his despair, and there’s no telling what he would do to himself without us there to take care of him. To clean up his messes.

I close my eyes for a second, forcing myself to take a deep breath, to keep my anger in check.

“Dad,” I say, opening my eyes and trying to keep my voice steady. “How long has this been going on?”

He shrugs, scratching at his collar. “A while,” he answers vaguely, not willing to tell me the truth. “But it’s not like I had a choice. When you girls needed food, I got it, didn’t I? And I took care of the mortgage, too. I did everything I could—”

I interrupt, my voice sharp. “You could have asked for help, Dad. We could have figured something out together; we could have gotten you into rehab or something. Instead, you’ve kept this to yourself and allowed it to get way out of hand. So, level with me. Does Mr. Rossi really want me as his interior designer, or am I just some sort of pawn in your game?”

He looks shocked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

“Ginny, no,” he stumbles, flustered. “It’s not like that at all. I would never do that to you. Mr. Rossi genuinely thinks you’ve got talent, honey. He’s trying to help, too. It’s nothing more than that.”

He’s talking too fast, a sure sign that he’s lying, making up a story as he goes. I know him well enough to recognize when he’s lying even to himself, trying to make a bad situation sound better than it is.

I sigh, pressing the palms of my hands tightly against my eyes as I try to organize my thoughts. Little fireworks explode in the darkness, and I have to take a deep breath so I don’t feel dizzy.

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