But it still makes me sad because I would bet she would love this one just as much if Dad showed interest in her.
I close the case and set it back, and I stop by my room.
I poke around in my old room that I have barely stayed in.
He got this house in the past five years. There is nothing I need in here, and I have probably killed enough time to piss him off, so I make my way down to the study, where Dad is waiting, looking irritated as hell.
"Ready to tell me what you summoned me for?" I pour a drink as he sits in his leather chair. Scotch sits within reach of his hand.
Dad looks me up and down. "At least you're in a suit."
"I'm in the middle of something that calls for a suit." God, he fucking pisses me off.
He doesn't bite, even though he wants to.
We stare at each other. A spaghetti Western would be proud.
But I break the silent standoff. "My time is limited, Dad."
If he were Eastwood, he would be chewing the end of a cigarillo, not a cigar, have stubble, and a six-shooter at his hip.
Though, knowing my dad, he is probably armed.
"Careful of the line you're walking, Enzo."
I sigh and wait.
He knows how much I avoid coming here, and I'm counting down the gameplay he is starting to set up. By the time I finish my drink, I'm out of here. And I'm fucking sure he knows it, too.
"I need help with something," he finally says.
I look around exaggeratedly, earning a grunt of disapproval from him. "From me?"
"Enzo."
I heed the warning that sits like flint in his voice by thinking of Lyndall. "What do you need?"
"Help planting some incriminating evidence on a friend's hard drive."
I snort. "A good friend?"
My father shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, savoring it. "A friend who needs to be taught a lesson."
"Cuts down on people needing enemies, huh?"
Dad rises. "Are you going to do it?"
"Do I have a choice?" I pour another drink since I will be doing it for my sister's sake.
He doesn't hold her as a threat, not verbally, but the one argument where he was going to send her to Switzerland to a top boarding school there, one that she would be staying at, one that she would come out and into the arms of a husband of his choice, causes me to curb my ire.
That her school isn't far from the city is small comfort. She is still fifteen, still in his hands legally, and his to sell to the highest bidder.
Of course, I won't allow that.
But I can't stop it if he hides her.
I don't think he would do it, but I can't be sure one hundred percent. So...
