Page 34 of Mangled Memory
“I came out ofmybedroom, Dad, and?—”
He walks to me faster than I thought he was able and grabs both of my shoulders, shaking me. “Listen, Ayla. You need to be smart. If you can’t do that, you need to get out. I wouldn’t mind having intel, but you’ve got to know how dangerous this situation actually is.” He glances to the door before invading my space. Stale coffee breath hits me as I’m held captive by his hands and his eyes. “That man is using you and is certainly trying to get to me. This isn’t a situation you can cute your way out of or circumvent by pretending it doesn’t impact you. It does. And it impacts me. By association that means your mom and your brothers too.”
So he thinks I’m either too stupid to understand or I don’t care enough about my family to give a shit?
“And you think I fell for his play and married him because…?”
“He’s obviously very convincing or a very good actor to get you to believe him. He twisted your mind. I’m telling you. You need to watch and take notes. And you must avoid falling for any more of his bullshit.” He lets go of my shoulders and steps back. “It’s important.”
“Right. Well, thanks for telling me this.”Again. I don’t add that but I consider it.
“Ayla.” His anger snaps into place, before he poorly conceals it. “I’m worried about you. I know you’re smart. I know you’re independent. But, sweetie, he’s a master, and you’re not at your best. You can’t know what it’s like to be a father and agonize over your family’s safety. In this case, I’m worried about yourmental health and our physical safety. Cut me some slack here.”
I step into him and wrap him up in a hug, mostly because I want him to stop this conversation. He’s laid it out, like I’m an idiot or too dumb to understand. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
“You’re vulnerable, and he knows it. It’s terrifying to feel so helpless in this situation.”
He’s not wrong about that.
“Twice you’ve asked me to monitor him. What are you looking for?”
“Cian thinks he’s laundering money or collecting debts through some transactions. We can’t prove it, but there are some questionable deals that come his way. Assets that he acquires below market value, flips that are turned too quickly. Several anomalies—not every transaction—but enough that we’re watching and asking our partners to do the same. Obviously, those deals should be fairly bid, and if they were, we’d be winning as many as he is. When something smells this fishy, it’s usually not without cause.”
“I can do that, Dad, but you need to know I’m not in the industry. We haven’t talked about his company or business, and he’ll be suspicious if I bring it up, so give me some time and offer a little patience. If I’m undercover, I need that.”
“Play it smart. He can’t catch on. Your safety is too important to jeopardize.” He squeezes me back in our hug and lets me go. “I hear you’re going to Cian’s today.”
“Yeah. Shooting and then there for lunch. I want to meet Eleanor.”
“Meet? You’ve already met her.”
“She knows that, but I don’t. And I want some time with Ci, so…” I let the sentence dangle before releasing him. Over his shoulder, the moose stares at me, as if imparting some wisdom I’m not privy to.
I leave the room with my dad following wordlessly. It’s as if he was safe in my studio but doesn’t want to be overheard now that we’re out in the open. I walk him to the sitting room door. Iopen it, and he turns, brushing a fat thumb over my cheek and wincing at the scar above my temple. “Love you, Ayla.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
I close the door and am surprised to see Christian standing in the hall behind me.
“What was that about? He’s never been here before at this hour.”
Here’s going for broke. I don’t know if it’s the smartest thing I’ll do or the dumbest, but I’m good either way. “You’re a stranger to me. It’s scary… the not knowing. Dad wanted to remind me that I don’t know you and should be cautious.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, that’s the sanitized version. The more accurate one is I can’t trust you and that you’re dangerous.”
His face registers anger before it goes absolutely blank. I’m left in a negotiation of sorts. Only I have nothing to bargain with and I don’t know which game we’re playing.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” He opens his eyes, and his search mine.
“For saying something. For hurting you.”
“But not for believing the worst of me or even repeating it?”
I shake my head. “No.”
