“Your father, the boss of the Lucciano crime family.”
“Don’t be absurd! My family isn’t in the mafia—I would know.” I stepped forward, pointing my finger at him angrily.
He met my advance head-on, closing the small distance between us. “You think you would have had any idea what I did if I didn’t want you to? I told you I would never lie to you, and I haven’t. I didn’t lie then, and I’m not lying now. Your Uncle Sal is your father’s underboss and acts as the face of the outfit—to keep him and his family safe, your father’s identity has been kept confidential. His own soldiers don’t know who runs the outfit. Your mention of Sal is what confirmed my suspicions that your father was the boss.”
“So, you don’t even know for sure—you’re just guessing. You think just because my dad is friends with Sal and because we’re Italian, we’re in the mafia? That’s just crazy!”
“You think what I’ve done is bad, your father is ten times worse. If you don’t believe me,askhim. You think I’m full of shit, fine, but go talk to Daddy and see for yourself.”
His insistence was absolute.
He was wholly confident he was right, and his resolve shook me. What if he was telling the truth? I suddenly felt like I’d walked into the movieInceptionwhere the constructs of our reality no longer applied—as if at any moment, the walls of the room might turn, and I’d be walking on theceiling rather than the floor. Could my father be a mafia boss? Had my entire world been a thing of fiction?
The possibility was more than unsettling—it rocked me to my core.
“Get out,” I whispered, not meeting his eyes.
“Lessia—” he started, but I never let him finish.
“Get out. Get out.Get out!” Each of my commands grew in strength until I was nearly shouting. If someone heard me in the lobby, I didn’t care. I was done caring. My world was turned upside down, and the only thing I could focus on was survival.
Luca stood motionless and silent for a long moment as I stared at the dirty grout lines on the floor. “I’m going to give you time to cool down, then we’re going to talk this through like adults. Go talk to your father. I’ll be in touch.” He let himself out of the bathroom, and I dropped my head in relief that the moment was over.
Stepping toward the small vanity, I stared vacantly at my reflection. Who was the woman staring back at me? I never thought the answer to that question would be so elusive. Was I the daughter of a criminal? Had my entire life been a lie?
My father was imposing, but so are plenty of men. Could he have had a secret life hidden away from us all these years? If so, had my mother known? I felt sick with betrayal. I needed to know the truth, and there was only one way to do that.
I stepped out of the bathroom, scanning the active lobby as I’d done so many times before. The place I’d been so proud of only hours ago now looked tainted. If my father was in the mafia, it was doubtless my family wasn’t the only casualty of his activities. The company I loved so dearly likely bore the sticky fingerprints of his criminal ties.
I walked straight to the elevator, eyes directly ahead. Looking at the lively animation of the people who called this place their home away from home made me sick to my stomach. My lifelong dream had been dipped in tar and was now irrevocably spoiled—corrupted and dirty.
Avoiding eye contact with my coworkers, I walked numbly to my father’s office. I wasn’t sure how he would have managed a second life when he spent so many hours inside these walls. Everything about Triton had felt legitimate. How could something so real, so tangible, be a sham?
I didn’t knock when I walked into his inner sanctum. His was the only office with rich wood paneling on the walls. He said it made the space feel more inviting, but it would also help soundproof his office. It was amazing how, in a matter of minutes, one piece of information forced you to look at the world from a different perspective.
I approached his ornate wooden executive desk, standing awkwardly, feeling suddenly like a child again. “Is any of this real? Has it all been a lie?” My words had been cryptic, but it was the first thing that popped into my head.
My father looked up in surprise, unaware I had entered the room. His eyes narrowed as he took in my pallor and my bloodshot eyes. Without saying a word, he went to close the office door before slowly returning to his desk chair.
“I’m not sure I understand—can you explain what you’re asking?” His words were the epitome of caution and diplomacy. Just like Luca, everything I needed to know was there, written between the lines.
“You’re in the mafia, aren’t you? Our lives have been one giant lie.”
He inhaled a deep breath, then leaned back in his chair, lips pursed tightly. “Who gave you this information?”
It was unsettling how calm I felt when my world was crumbling around me, piece-by-piece. I slowly lowered myself into one of the guest chairs, perching on the edge of the cushion. Who was this man who sat across from me? I glanced up, searching in vain for a hint of familiarity. Only the contours of his face and his outer appearance bore any significance—the man beneath the surface was a mystery.
He stared at me expectantly, a dangerous glint in his eyes, still waiting for an answer to his question. Would Luca become a target for sharing the truth with me? Regardless of my torn feelings for him, I didn’t want him hurt because of me. “A friend.”
“A man,” he concluded.
I kept my lips sealed, not confirming or denying.
“I take it someone from one of the other families. No one in my outfit would have dared.”
“I guess I appreciate that you aren’t trying to deny it. I can’t imagine it’s been easy lying to everyone for so long.” My words were clipped, an undercurrent of anger infiltrating my numbness.
He lifted a brow in warning. Normally, I’d never be allowed to speak to my father with attitude, but he was giving me a small amount of leniency, considering the circumstances. “I did it to keep you and your sisters safe. After Marco was killed, I wasn’t going to put you all at risk.”
