26. Becca

26

BECCA

W hat do you want? I wanted to scream it. I was tempted to pick up this phone and bellow that question to Steven until he just answered me.

This was how it always happened with him.

He’d call. Make demands. And hang up.

It was infuriating and unhelpful, and with the regret about the thought that I might have overreacted at the studio, lashing out at Ivan for asking about Dom again, all I cared to do was have a conversation with him where I could apologize and explain where I was coming from.

He’d started this path. Ivan was the one to initiate something more than my being a “hostage” here and feeling like a roommate.

So it was up to me to do my part and try to make it work too.

A conversation with Ivan would’ve been easier if he had been here, but it sounded like something was going wrong with work. With the clubs. Something. I didn’t ask for details, but before he made himself scarce, he told me which clubs he’d be at or where to contact him in the city.

Another nugget of guilt came with that thought. That he was so busy because he kept driving to and from the city. I wanted to view that as a commitment, as a good thing. He wanted to be here with me. He wasn’t shoving me out of the way and locking me in this house. Every night, he came here and showed up.

It left me little energy to deal with Steven calling.

“Tell me where the fuck you are.”

I gritted my teeth, glancing up at Ivan striding in.

“Why?” I shot back. “Why the hell should I tell you anything?” I challenged.

“Because I’m your father, you ungrateful bitch. Because I’m your fucking father. You’ve never shown me any respect. You’ve never shown me any gratitude. Nothing.”

I shook my head, smirking and bottling in my rage. The audacity. This asshole thought he had any grounds to deserve any respect from me? Not only that, but he also felt that I owed him thanks? For what? Neglecting me my whole life? Taking my money? Expecting me to get involved in mostly illegal shenanigans so he could profit money to keep for himself?

“Newsflash, Steven. You’ve got to earn respect. And you never have.”

“No?” He chuckled darkly. “I haven’t? Who the fuck raised you?”

“Not you.”

“Who put a roof over your head?”

I fisted my hands. “Whose income went to pay for that damn roof?”

I tensed, knowing my blood pressure was sky high with another round of dealing with him. Each time he called to demand to know where I was, I worried that Ivan would suspect I was loyal to him. That by taking each call, I wanted to speak with him.

I didn’t. Never again. Since he admitted to arranging to have a thug take Emily in order to get me to comply with his need for “favors”, he was a dead man walking as far as I was concerned.

Ivan stood next to me, silent and watching me carefully with concern.

A glance at the phone’s attachment showed that the call was still tracing. Every time Steven called, this happened. He’d rigged it to avoid being detected.

The only reason I still answered the phone was to allow Ivan and his brothers a chance to track the asshole. Otherwise, I’d never answer. I’d never speak to him again and be perfectly fine with that.

“What do you want, Steven?” I asked hotly. “What the hell do you want from me? What’s going on?”

He growled. “I don’t answer to you. I never will. You owe me some fucking answers.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“I just need to know where you are so I can talk to you.”

I raised my brows. “If I gave you a location to meet up, you’d go there just to talk to me.”

Ivan watched me closely. This was the first time Steven had given me anything like a plan. Maybe this was how they could finally catch him.

“No, you stupid bitch. You’re fucking that sicko. He’d just wait there to ambush me. I want to know where you are so I can make arrangements of my own to take control.”

I shook my head. “I don’t owe you that answer.”

“You do!” he shouted. “You owe me because I am your fucking father and you should answer to me, not some stupid criminal?—”

I hung up. My finger shook with the force of how badly I wanted to smash my phone or hurl it at a wall. To break it into hundreds of pieces and never have to deal with the sound of his voice ever again.

“What’d you do that for?” Ivan asked, peeved.

I growled, dropping the phone to the table. “I can’t take him anymore. I’m sick to my stomach every time I hear him trying to order me around.”

He frowned. “But the call wasn’t traced yet.”

I huffed a laugh. “They never are. Each time he calls, it’s the same untraceable code on that device.”

“You should have tried to keep him on the line for longer.”

I shot him an angry look. “Just to subject myself to more of his verbal abuse? To listen to him rant and repeat the demands for the same thing? I haven’t told him shit, and I won’t.”

“But he might have slipped. He could’ve lost his temper or patience and mentioned something that could be a clue.”

I shook my head. “I doubt it. He’s been at this conning game for a long time now. He won’t reveal anything unless it’d help himself.”

“I beg to differ. Everyone fucks up sometime, sooner or later.”

I eyed him, wondering if he was referring to me, too. That I’d fucked up in accusing him of sleeping with me for bad reasons.

“Whatever.” I shrugged, raw and worn out from dealing with Steven to want to bicker with Ivan. Butting heads and quarreling was fine with him. It made our interactions that much more interesting and challenging. A push-and-pull balance.

But not now. I’d been so excited to see him to own up and apologize for what I said the other night, but all I wanted was to relax instead.

Live to fight another day.

“I’ve asked Margie to handle Emily tonight.”

Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the last thing I expected.

“What?”

He nodded. “You heard me.”

He wasn’t the sort of man to repeat himself. I should’ve felt pissed that he was trying to call the shots where Emily was concerned. He’d admitted that he wanted to see himself as a father figure for her, but it wasn’t cool for him to override my choices about her as her only current and actual parent.

“Why?”

“Because you and I are going out.”

I gawked at him, sure that I was hearing things. He wanted to take me out? Tonight? I didn’t know why. “Like… on a date?” I was excited, but also iffy about it. I’d been feeling more tired than usual lately. A quiet night in with just him would be sweet, but I doubted that would interest him.

He nodded. “We’re going out.”

“What’s the occasion?” I licked my lips, letting the idea of spending quality alone time with him fill my hopelessly romantic heart. “Is there an occasion?”

He shook his head. “No. I want you with me.”

Okay…

“And I don’t like how Steven seems to be aware of the best times to reach you.”

I furrowed my brow. “Huh?” I didn’t pay too much attention to the timing of his calls. Any and every time he called, it was a bad one.

“You haven’t noticed that he always calls when I’m not here?”

Well, that shut me up. I hadn’t noticed that. Maybe because I’d fallen into the habit of recording the calls, I knew Ivan wouldn’t miss out on the messages.

“He calls when I’m not here with you. It’s making me wonder if he knows when we’re apart. And how.”

I pointed at myself. “Are you accusing me of sharing the information of your whereabouts with him?”

He growled and rolled his eyes. “No. Stop taking everything I say as an attack.”

I do that. Dammit. I hadn’t realized I was doing that.

I couldn’t help but be on guard and suspicious. I always was. How could I not be with the life I’ve had? But I didn’t need to use it against Ivan all the time. He was trusting me, and I could show him the same.

“He calls when I’m not here, and that makes me uncomfortable.” He stepped closer, cupping my face and gazing down at me calmly. “I know you’re not telling him anything. I got the impression you wouldn’t from the first time he called and you were open with me to want to hurry and record it as evidence for me to share with my brothers.”

I nodded, sighing and letting some of the stress leak from me. Any time he touched me at all, his contact soothed the anxiety deep in my soul.

“I don’t want to know why he contacts you like that. I’d prefer it if he didn’t at all.” He stroked his thumb over my cheek. “I wish he’d man up and just fucking come out of hiding once and for all so I could remove one pain in the ass from the face of the earth.”

“I know.”

“But it makes me uneasy to know he’s trying to butt in between us, calling you when I’m not here.”

“And that’s why you want to take me out tonight?”

“Not the only reason.” He almost smiled.

“What are the other reasons?”

He lifted one shoulder and let it fall as he stepped back, releasing me from his touch. “You’ll see.”

Excitement and nervousness melded into one chaotic sensation.

I’d never really gone on a proper date before. The two boyfriends I’d had in the past were workaholics like me, never having money or time to take me out and show me a night of fun and affection.

Dom wined and dined me, but that had all been a long-lasting manipulation.

Leave it to the Mafia man to know how to treat a woman. To plan to treat me.

A smile threatened to break across my face, but I kept it in. I didn’t want to seem too eager and easy. I still needed to apologize for how I’d spoken to him the other night. Until I had that off my chest, I would feel uneasy. If any kind of a future was in store for us, I wanted to enter it with a clear conscience and being able to admit my flaws.

And if our future would consist of actually spending time together alone—on real dates—I wanted the rest of our lives to start now.

Me and him. For good. No matter how complicated everything seemed to be before we could get together like this and be on the same page.

“Like I said, I’ve arranged things with Margie. Emily is in good hands.” He arched one brow at me. “Now go on. Get ready to leave with me.”

I bit my lip and nodded, curious what he had in mind.