Page 61 of Vicious Intentions

My father almost never talked about his work, but I knew he had wealthy clients all over the world who refused to accept his retirement.

“Anyway? I just wanted to see how everything was going there.”

“Fine, Mom. Just like it was the first day I got here. The resort is gorgeous, my suite bigger than my place in LA. I met the owner. He’s… fascinating.” I thought about Jillian’s comments from the night before and cringed. I had no intentions of telling her that I was going on a date with the man and his friends. I returned to the living room, walking towards the beautiful roses.

Then my eyes settled on a single petal that had fallen. When I picked it up, a jarring memory rushed into the forefront of my mind.

“I think someone has been inside our suite.”

It was my voice even though it echoed. But who had I been talking to? What suite?

“Mmm… well, it sounds like you’re being treated very well. Just like you should be. I still worry though. I wish you hadn’t gone there.”

“Why? You’ve never once told me why.” I brought the petal to my nose, closing my eyes as I inhaled the lovely scent. Why were goosebumps popping down both arms?

“The city is dangerous. You know that.”

Danger. Danger. Danger.

“Mama. I’ve toured in New York,” I told her then walked toward the window, studying the gorgeous scenery below. The atrium was gorgeous, the greenery adding a special touch to the hotel.

“I know, but Chicago is different.”

“Okay. Whatever you say. I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, I have a date tonight.” Why did I tell her that?

“With the owner?” Now her voice sounded hopeful.

“Yes.” A little white lie never hurt anyone.

“What’s his name?”

My mother had likely never paid any attention to mafioso families. She’d lived a sheltered life with my father. I doubted they even understood the true meaning of the word crime. “Cain Cross. He’s very handsome.”

When I heard a knock on the door, my heart pitter-pattered. I took long strides, returning to the bathroom to grab my things.

“What did you say?” she asked. It almost sounded like her voice was shaking.

“Mom. I gotta go. He’s here.”

“Baby girl. Wait. You can’t.”

“I can’t what?” I could tell she was flustered. I headed for the door, uncertain why she was acting this way. “Mama. What? Date the boss?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s it.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I heard the demanding tone in my voice and admonished myself for trying with my mother. She and my father had been strange for the past few years, never talking much about the past. I’d stopped asking after I’d moved out. “What secrets are you keeping from me, Mother?”

The tension was strange. Suddenly, my heart was beating erratically.

“We should talk. Your father and I think it’s time. Maybe we should have told you before.”

“Time? What are you talking about?” The second knock on the door was more insistent. “I need to go.”

“Please. Don’t go out with him. I beg you.”

“Mama, you don’t need to worry because he wasn’t the one who hired me. Love and kisses. I need to go.” I ended the call before things got stupid. Even for her, trying to dictate who I dated was unusual.

The fear in her voice had been palpable.

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