Page 13 of The Prizes We Win
10
Josephine
“Who brought him food?” I ask as the five of us stare into the room where my dad is sitting.
“I did,” Dante replies.
“The clothes too?”
“Yes,” he answers again, his broad arms crossed over his chest.
“Why?” I would have thought for sure that the four of them would have let him sit down here and suffer all night. Hell, I’m surprised not one of them came down here to beat him to a pulp. Not that I would have noticed, because I clearly didn’t see Dante sneak away to do this.
“It’s important to make hostages comfortable before you try to break them,” he answers deadpan, and for the first time since we got down here, I pull my eyes from my dad and look up at Dante. “Navy SEAL, remember? I have more specialized training than you think I do, Mama.” My eyes linger on his profile fora moment longer before he finally looks down at me. His hazel eyes warm my center; it’s a familiar feeling I have whenever he is near. Comfort. Safety. “And he’s your dad, Joe. None of us are going to do anything to him without discussing it with you.”
“We’re a team, Love,” Sebastian adds.
Standing on my toes, I softly kiss Dante’s cheek. “Thank you,” I say softly. Because even though I don’t wish a single other pleasant moment on this earth for the man sitting in that room, it isn’t lost on me what he did. Whattheydid. Besides saving my life yesterday, they have gone against every single one of their instincts and spared one of the men who caused me harm. Not because he deserves peace, but because they wanted me to have a say in the matter.
They want to show me that they respect me enough to leave his fate in my hands.
They trust me.
“Okay, I’m going in there,” I say with a resounding breath.
I take half a step before Enzo firmly grabs my forearm. “I might be okay with this, Sweetheart, but if he makes one wrong move, if he so much as even breathes funny, we’re coming in there.” I nod, and then a second later his lips are on mine, kissing me as deeply as the moment allows. Hesitantly, he pulls away, and I step up to the door. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself as much as I can to face my dad.
Slowly, I open and close the door behind me and sit down at the table across from him, where it’s clear one of the guys came down before me and handcuffed him to the table. I can feel Dad’s eyes on me the entire time, and the moment I finally let my stare meet his, he’s leveling me with the same menacing glare he used to all those years ago. Except it looks different now. Fragile almost. Like his entire facade is hanging on by a thread. And Idon’t know if it’s because I’ve become stronger or he’s become weaker, but I guess we’re about to find out.
“How long do you plan on keeping me down here, Joey?”
I let the nickname roll off my back before it has a chance to conjure up more memories I’d rather leave buried. “You kidnapped me.”
“It wasn’t just me,” he clarifies, like that makes it any better.
“You held me at gunpoint.”
“Your men back there”—he points to the glass—“didn’t leave me much of a choice, did they?” I hold my stare. “Glad to see my daughter has turned into a whore. Like mother, like daughter, I’d say.”
This motherfu—you know what? No.
I rest my forearms on the metal table and clasp my hands in front of me. “Speaking of my mother, you murdered her in front of me, tried to kill me, and made mine and Jasper’s lives a living hell, all because you’re a weak and pathetic man. So to answer your question, I will keep you in here however long I fucking want.” He lets out a low and sinister laugh. One that has occupied space in my nightmares for as long as I can remember, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t send chills down my spine. Wanting to gain a little separation from him, I nonchalantly lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. Tilting my head curiously, I ask, “So what exactly do you want with me, Dad?”
The corners of his lips curl, and I take a moment to examine his face. He looks the same as he did all those years ago, and yet… everything is different. In all regards, and much to my brother’s horror, he is Jasper’s twin. Except now, Dad’s jet-black hair is streaked with strands of gray and is sparse around his temples. His dark brown eyes, the same ones that used to have smile lines permanently plastered in the corner, now look sadand tired. The skin on his face and arms looks dry and leathery. And his body looks thin and frail.
Quite frankly, he looks like dog shit.
“If you or your brother had bothered to read any of the letters I sent you, none of this would have gotten this far.”
“Do you really think, for one single second, I wanted you to be sending me letters like we were fucking pen pals?”
He doesn’t respond.
“I ask again, what do you want?”
Again with that fucking smirk. “It’s all very serendipitous, really.”
Wow. Big word for an even bigger asshole.
