Page 87 of Corrupted Union

“What did I tell you on your wedding day?”

“What? He’s getting away, Marco. Let me go after hi—”

“On your wedding day,” he says, overriding me. “What did I tell you?”

My hands flap to my sides, frustration coursing through me. “What does that matter?”

“Leo, think.”

I sigh, scrambling my brain to remember … Then it hits me. “Don’t fuck up,” I say.

“Exactly. Don’t fuck up. And what do you do?”

“I fucked up,” I murmur, running my hand over my face. “I fucked up big time.”

Marco at least has the decency to give me a slightly sympathetic look, even though I don’t deserve it. “What were you thinking going after Francesca like that?”

“I wasn’t,” I admit. “I was …”

“Thinking with your penis.”

“Ok, I deserved that.”

Marco huffs, turning away from me. “You need to resolve this once Francesca returns. You’re married now. I don’t want your marriage drama interfering with your work, so get it together.” He storms off, leaving me in the foyer alone.

My first instinct is to hunt Henry down and beat the shit out of him for telling Fran the truth, but the reality is … I should have told her the truth. Well, I never should have made that bet in the first place. I just didn’t know I’d actually end up falling for her. I never fall for the women I fuck, but Francesca, she has my heart.

That’s probably why it hurt so fucking much to see her leave.

Even if I can’t go after Henry right now, there’s someone else I can take my anger out on.

I get in my car and drive, speeding through the streets of LA until I reach an old apartment complex hour away from the city. I haven’t been back here since I was seventeen.

After finding apartment nineteen and knocking on the door for a minute, someone finally answers.

It’s my father.

He looks haggard, with messy gray hair and huge bags under his eyes. His shirt is stained with something yellow, mustard presumably, and his pants are baggy. Wrinkles cover his face. He’s the same man, yet looks different.

His eyes widen when he sees me. “Leo?”

“This is your fault,” I say to him in a low voice. “You taught me to not respect women. So, I followed your lead, and look where that’s gotten me.”

He opens the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”

“Do I want to come in?” I laugh, though it’s not out of amusement. “Do I look like I want to fucking come in to the place where you killed my mom? Do I?”

“I …” He shakes his head, his eyes watering. “I miss her every day.”

“Stop with that bullshit. You killed her.” I poke him in the chest. “Youkilled her. All because she was too afraid to leave. It’s your fault I am the way I am.”

Now that his shock is wearing off, my dad stands up straighter. “Don’t blame me for anything you might have done. I haven’t seen you since you were seventeen. You haven’t been around. You don’t get to blame for how you’ve lived your life.”

“How I’ve lived my live?” I shout, slamming my palm against the door before he can close it. “You want to know how I’ve lived my life? I liked hurting women. Not physically, no. But emotionally? Oh, I fuckinglovedit. All because you taught me women weren’t worth my time. That’s on you.”

“You’re an adult now, Leo. You can’t blame for your actions.”

“Fuck you!”

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