Silence thins the space between us, and the ever-so-subtle raise of his brow is all I get in response. Then I get nervous. I pray he doesn’t ask. It’d be a shame to explain my family dynamics to a man like him.
“With who?”
Of course. “My father.” I do my best to mask my emotions.
“Where?”
“Caffè Milano.”
He stares at me for a couple more seconds as if reading me. And I think he’ll decline when he dials the telephone and mutters some Italian words into it.
“A driver, along with some guards, will escort you.”
Nodding, I turn on my heels and feel his stare on my back till I get out of sight.
Only when I’m out, do I release a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. God, his presence is so commanding.
***
I force a smile at the waitress who serves us two cups of coffee.
“Are you settling in well at your new place?” Dad’s voice catches my attention, pulling me back to the present. It is almost impossible not to get lost in thought, not with the sudden change in his behavior.
Yesterday, he slapped me and then hurled me to the ground with disdain all over his face. But today he’s welcoming me with such warmth?
It doesn’t make any sense to me at all.
My tongue feels tied as I look at him, waiting for him to switch back to his old self.
“I am sorry, Isabella.” He sighs deeply, reaching across the table to place his hand on mine. I stiffen. On my way here, I thought of a lot of things to say to him, prepared my mind for a response to his fickleness .
But now…here…it feels like my head is blank. I stare at him, emotions clashing into a tide in my chest.
Sorry? For treating me like I was a mistake he couldn’t correct? Or for forcing me to marry a stranger in Elena’s place?
“I know I’ve done a lot of things, but please, just find it in your heart to forgive me.”
I hold my breath, taking in his broken expression.
Dull brown eyes, tan skin, wrinkled face, and an overgrown mustache stare back at me. Then I realize it. He’s grieving. With his special daughter gone, I’m all he has left to see the alliance through.
Something cool touches my palm, and I lower my gaze to see it. A gift—a shiny, silver bracelet—that he’s curled into my palm.
“You don’t have to forgive me right this moment.” He cups my palm and tears sting my vision. “I know it could take years and, as painful as it is, I’ll live with it. But for what it’s worth, please…as my daughter…accept this gift.”
My daughter. That title isn’t mine. It’s Elena’s.
Even though he hated both of us. Even though he hated that he didn’t have boys to take over his mafia, he still hated her a little less. And I had to red carpet his contempt.
I should hurl insults, throw the stupid piece of jewelry across the room, and make him feel all I felt for years. But tears seem to be the only thing I can let out.
His eyes are glossy with tears, too.
For the first time, I admit to myself the reason I stayed quiet and subservient was because a part of me was desperate for his love and approval.
And as I look at the bracelet in my hand, I admit to myself that maybe a part of me is still looking forward…to his love and approval.
Chapter four
