Page 4 of Forbidden Eyes

“I know. You never let me forget.” I try my best not to pout. She always does this, makes me feel guilty for growing up.

“Torino will be with you all night. I swear if you pull anything…”

“Relax. I have no intention of pulling anything. I know he’ll be there. I’m just glad I’m going. Thank you.” I rush over and give her a squeeze. She’s always been the reasonable one—the adjudicator between Dad and me.

“Go on. You need to get going before I change my mind.”

“Don’t you dare.” We giggle, and I skip out and downstairs to where Torino is waiting.

“Ready, Fia?” he asks.

“Oh, I forgot my bag. I’ll just be a sec.” I race back upstairs and pick up the satin wrapped black bag Mom leant me. My kitten heels clack against the wooden floor as I rush to head back downstairs, and then I skid to a halt as I see Dad enter the front door.Shit.

I stare, frozen in place as he also stops, guarding my exit.

“Evening, Fia. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” I say, forcing calmness through me.

“You all dressed up for some reason?”

His question doesn’t hide his disapproval, and I know my perfectly planned evening is set to end in an argument. Even Torino backs off from his position, slipping into the kitchen, and no doubt out of the firing line. I’ve waited too long for tonight to back down, though. He might win and rule over my life with an iron fist worthy of the greatest of dictators, but not tonight. I stand up tall, square my shoulders, and prepare to battle.

“Yes, I have a friend’s birthday to attend. I’m going to be late if I’m not careful. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I start to walk past him, but his hand shoots palm up in front of me.

“What party? Whose? Where is it? And why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Andi’s. It’s her birthday.” I make a point of answering each of his points, counting on my fingers for emphasis. “In the city. And because you never let me do anything if I do tell you.” My hands land on my hips to emphasise the point.

“Where in the city? New York is a big fu- city. Where are you going?”

“A bar. Her parents hired it out.” I scramble for an answer he won’t object to but can’t bring the name to mind.

“You’re not going to some random bar for a party. Not a hope.” He crosses his arms, signalling that the conversation is over.It’s so not over.

“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” I mirror his stance. He’s not going to do this to me. Again.

“I’m your father. Of course I get to decide what you do and don’t do.” And there they are, the same words I've heard all my life.

“Oh, come on, Dad. I’m nineteen. How old do you think I am?”

“Exactly. Not old enough to drink. No bars.” His eyes narrow at me and the tone holds none of the fatherly warmth he started with. This is his arguing tone.

“It’s Andi’s twenty-first. It’s important for me to go. We’ve been planning this forever.”

“And you should have known I’d never allow it. We’ve been over this time and time again.”

“You are so unreasonable. Everything is a no. You never let me do anything.” My voice rises to meet his, and my heart starts to race.

“I let you do plenty, but you’re still a child. When you’ve grown up, things will be different.”

I scoff. “Really? I don’t believe that for a fucking second.”

“Language!” he booms.

“Like you don’t swear every other word.”

He takes a few steps towards me, his arms at his side. “Don’t test me, young lady. You’re not going out. End of story. Go and change.”

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