Page 47

LIA

I was inside the elevator to my father’s office ninety minutes later on the dot, and got out to find Rio waiting for me and my father—still in a suit, but also wrapped in blankets—on his couch, watching the news.

Which was about me.

“Don’t you want to watch something national, instead?” I asked jokingly.

Rio gave me a nod, as I walked up, and my father pointed in the direction of his bar. “Pour yourself something—I’m sure you need it.”

While I could resist the siren song of Enzo’s Ativan…I didn’t want to raw dog the rest of this conversation with him, so a vodka tonic felt appropriate.

I mixed my drink and tossed my bag with a new dress in it across the back of the couch before sitting down.

“How’s it going?” I asked him.

He turned off the television and swiveled his head my direction. “Badly.”

I nodded, and took a measured sip. “I don’t suppose anyone called up to cancel my engagement?” I asked, with feigned optimism.

“No—but—Lia—if this was your idea,” he said, giving me a grave look. “It didn’t have to be.”

I blinked. “You…think that I did that?” I asked, pointing at the blank TV screen.

His silence spoke volumes.

“You’re kidding me,” I said, rearing back. “Why on earth would I trumpet my psych history to the entire world?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You were unhappy?—”

“Dad!” I snapped—and then realized that he wasn’t my actual father. Not really.

Did he know that?

“You’ve made some rash decisions in the past is all,” he went on, defending himself.

“Clearly,” I said, and chugged a good bit of my glass. “But it wasn’t me.”

I watched his jaw clench, as he snapped his fingers to call Rio over—and Rio gave me a stern look. “Then who else was it?”

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I never told.” I didn’t want Rio going over to Dr Enzo’s half-cocked.

“Well someone’s going to pay for this, Lia,” my father said, sounding more determined by the instant, and he stood up, shaking off the blankets he’d had on, starting to pace, like a slightly wobbly tiger in a cage.

He was coming back into himself, now that he was needed, and he had something concrete to do.

“I need you to call some people ,” he told Rio, with an emphasis on the word that clearly said they needed to have guns.

“Because no one should be gossiping about our family, much less my daughter—I won’t stand for it. ”

“I’m on it,” Rio said, stepping away and pulling out his phone, as my father turned back to me.

“And you’re sure you never told? Any of your boarding school chums?”

I made a face. “Yes, some of them knew.” I couldn’t hide my wrists 24/7, when I was roommates with someone. “But—what about you? Did you ever complain?” I asked, standing up to catch his hands and pull him safely back down to the couch with me. “I mean I know I gave you reason to, Dad.”

My father roughly shook his head. “No. No one.”

“No one at all?” I pressed.

“No one who wasn’t family.”

I felt part of my soul leave my body. “Like…who?”

“Freddie,” he said. “After your mother died—who else was I supposed to tell? Plus he was always calling me up to brag on Junior—it wasn’t all bad, Lia. You had some good stretches, you’re a smart girl, I got to brag back?—”

Which was how come my uncle—and calling him that left a bitter taste in my mouth, now that I knew the truth, but I would be damned if I called him anything else—always knew when I was succeeding. Making friends. Playing volleyball and getting along.

How he always knew when to strike.

“And family’s family,” my father went on. “Freddie wouldn’t have said anything—no. There were at least fifty people who knew, Lia—you had incidents in more than one country. Maybe they don’t have laws over there about hippos and stuff, like we do over here.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Maybe.”

My father had gotten played. He’d ratted me out to my uncle, and that whole time my uncle pulled my strings, making me seem crazy.

It was all too easy imagining him whispering into my father’s ear about what a liability I was bound to be, while he was lining Freddie Jr up to succeed at Corvo like an eight ball for a corner pocket.

And for a moment I felt a lick of the rage that’d consumed so much of my childhood, the kind that made me want to scream and kick and burn—it wasn’t fair that my father had betrayed me.

But it also wasn’t fair that, twenty-three-years-and-nine-months-or-so-ago he himself had been betrayed.

“We’ll figure out who it is Lia. And we’ll make sure they never say anything again,” he said, taking my hands in his—and his were so bony. “I love you. And nothing like this should’ve ever happened to you without your say so.”

His gaze burned at me with dark intent. He really did love me. And he was the only father I’d ever known.

“I love you too, Dad,” I said, squeezing his hands back, before leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Marcus texted me to do dinner tonight. I’ll do what I can—for the family.”

“Good—good—any man would be a fool to lose you. And I’m sure that he can see that.”

I swallowed and nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how it went—but only if you promise not to watch any more news today.”

My father gave me a toothsome grin. “Such a Ferreo—deal.”

I picked up my dress bag and took the elevator back down to the lobby—where I found Rhaim walking in, with a bag of his own beneath his arm. He stopped at seeing me, and I forced myself to give him an icy stare. “Miss Ferreo,” he said, slightly bowing his head.

“And how’s the IPO coming?” I asked him, slightly arch, like he had better account for his time inside my father’s building.

His eyes flashed. “Well. Although of course we would be doing better if you were here.”

“I’m not so sure about that—” I said—then realized I’d been spotted. There were people whispering and pointing at us, behind Rhaim.

“I am,” he said, definitively. “See you at your father’s birthday,” he went on, then turned to catch an elevator.

I watched him go, keeping my head held high, and managed not to make eye contact with anyone else on my way back outside.