EMILEE
I sit onthe end of the bed, and my heart is heavy. My father and I returned to Las Vegas a week ago. I thought coming back with him that things would be like old times. They’re not.
He’s on edge. He hasn’t said it, but I can tell. He’s always on his phone trying to get ahold of George, but there’s no answer. I overheard him a couple of days ago speaking to someone, I think it was Luca. He has him doing some kind of search for a phone number, but I don’t think any information has been found yet.
Titan is always on my mind. I feel bad for what I said to him. I was mad, and in the heat of the moment, but I never thought of him to be anything remotely like George. I was attracted to Titan and had wanted him for a long time. I’m not sure if it would have happened any other way. But even so, I shouldn’t have slapped him or walked out on him.
He had a point. My father had lied to me. The question is why? Even now, he won’t tell me that. I don’t know the specifics of why he faked his death, or how long he was going to pretend to be dead. Would he have ever come clean to me?
Every time I try to talk to him, he pushes me away. He says he has it taken care of and not to worry. He’s treating me like a child. Like I can’t handle the truth.
It’s making me nervous. He has something planned, but I just don’t know what it is. And I have a feeling I won’t like it.
My cell beeps on my bed, and I pick it up to check it. I figure it’s Haven or Jasmine. We haven’t seen each other since we returned. I miss them so much.
Opening up the email, it’s from my Queens app. It’s a date for tonight with the same guy I had last time.
I bite my bottom lip, looking it over. He wants to take me to dinner again. Same place. Same time. And wants to pay me five thousand dollars. He’s requesting I wear a red dress and my hair down. No limit on drinks this time. Maybe he realized I can handle my liquor.
I shouldn’t …
“What are you doing, sweetie?” My father enters my room.
I look up at him and sigh. “I just got a request for a date tonight.”
He frowns, confused.
“I’m a Queen,” I remind him. He knows what I’ve done ever since he decided to fake his death. Even though he won’t talk to me, I laid everything out to him on our flight back to Vegas from New York.
“How much?” he surprises me by asking.
“Five thousand,” I answer. “But I’m not going to do it.” I exit out of the app.
He runs a hand through his hair nervously.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Well …” He comes to sit down beside me. “I … just … It’s …”
“Just spit it out, Dad.” I say, tired of his rambling. We’re both adults here.
“I got myself into trouble, Emilee. And I need help getting out.”
“How much do you owe?” I ask, ducking my head. It can’t be easy for him to admit this.
“A million dollars.”
“What?” I gasp like I’m surprised. I just wanted to see if he would lie to me again.
“It wasn’t all my fault.” He gets defensive. “George made a deal. But my name was on that contract too. Now he’s skipped town, and I’m stuck with nothing.”
“Why didn’t they go after him? Why didn’t he fake his death?” I ask.
“Because he didn’t have the life insurance policies that I did. And it would look suspicious for him to get them, and he turn up dead. We needed to avoid any investigation.”
I nod in understanding.
“I had money hidden in the houses,” he says softly.
