Page 36 of They Call Him Reaper

TWENTY-THREE

Inaya

This is all my fault.I was sure I'd hear from Dante somehow by now. Positive that he'd be miserable without me and come back, but my hope dwindled more with each passing month. Now, the holiday season is approaching, and my loneliness is increasing. I thought I'd make friends but quickly realized that I'm now too suspicious to befriend a random person.

My need to connect to something familiar led me to a cabin my nanny used to take me to as a child. It was fun with campfires and s'mores. I just needed to feelsomething.So much has changed and nearly nothing at all.

I didn't expect that this would be the place where my biological father would choose to hide. I was staring out at the water, wondering why we never went for a swim, when someone spoke behind me.

"Inaya?"

I freeze, since it's a voice I'd be content to never hear again. Fear spikes, but I know I need to play it cool.

Turning slowly, I face the person I used to be happy to see while cursing my stupidity.

"Dad?"

Just calling him that burns my throat but if I learned anything from Dante, it is not to poke the bear. My acting must be top-notch. The last thing I need is to go from his daughter to his enemy in his eyes. Too much is at stake.

My tears are sadness, but I hug him so he can read it as relief. He grips my face, staring at me in awe, making me wish he wasn't such a terrible person. He looks tired like he has lost a lot of sleep, but I don't know if it's due to concern for me, his money, or both.

"I thought you were dead," he whispers and pulls me into another hug.

I try my best not to cringe at his touch. It's astounding that he can treat others terribly and still come off as a doting father.

"Don't worry. I'll get payback."

The steel in his voice reminds me of what had me running in the first place. Granted, I've seen Dante kill more men than my dad, but his level of hurt and anger cannot be faked.

I managed to fly under the radar for two days, but things began to unravel by the third. His suspicions spiked. He couldn't understand how I was still alive. I could tell by the look in his pale eyes that I couldn’t lie and say I got away because we both know Dante’s skill set is much too advanced for that to have happened.

"How did you get away from him?" he asks again.

I decide to go with a partial truth. "He'd gotten hurt, and it resulted in him having a high fever. He was too delirious to worry about holding me hostage. He had to give me the combination to the safe to get the meds. I took my money and passport and left after he passed out.”

Fathertilts his head. "I still don't get why he didn't kill you before that."

I shrug. "He really didn't say much beyond he wanted you to feel what it was like." I know it's a risk, but if he wants to probe, then so do I. "What was he talking about, Dad?"

He may be a feared crime boss, but he has tells. And the way he rubs his fingers across the table as he bites the left side of his bottom lip announces the lie that's about to fall off his lips.

"I don't know. I tried to help him as a child, but he was jealous that you had parents. That hate just festered, I guess."

He tries to give me a sincere look, but I see the blankness in his eyes. I never noticed it before because he always looked at me with such affection, I never realized that he didn’t give a shit about others. I’m now in a “question everything” mode, and therefore have to consider the notion that Dante kidnapped me to brainwash me against my dad.

I also consider if my dad had him do it to test my loyalty. All I know is I don’t want to play the game or be lied to any longer.

“I’m tired,” I tell him. Some of his men rise when I do. “All the running and hiding is catching up. I’m going to take a nap.”

Antoni waves one of his men over, who presents me with a cup of tea. “Drink,córka.It’ll help you rest.”

It’s not the only time he has called me daughter in Polish, but this time, he says it like he’s questioning our relationship. My nerves kick up, but I need to play it cool and minimize my time with him like I’ve been doing. Too much time together will be detrimental for us. Another lesson from Dante — don’t consume anything I didn’t prepare myself.

“No, thank you. I’m tired enough to rest fine without help. Thank you.”

I can still see the trace of suspicion making the scar near his eye that used to be endearing seem menacing. Leaning in, I hug him and kiss his cheek like I would have if things weren’t strained in my mind.

My walk to my room requires more concentration than it usually would because I don’t want to walk too fast or too slowly. I need to seem as relaxed as any normal daughter is with her father. I also need to figure out how to get away from him fast without raising his suspicion. I’ve been around him for too long already.

---