Dad's smile is tight. "There are always choices."
And consequences. But I keep that to myself.
He already knows how much Lyndall loves me, and he is not above using her against me. I'm not in the mood to hear anything like veiled threats tonight.
I bite back a smile as I cross to his computer and listen as he explains what he wants done.
"Are you going to use mine?"
"I don't have one with me. Don't worry, I can make it very anonymous and seamless, like it was always there, or I can make it obvious and point at someone else as the culprit, if you like."
"Keep it simple." Dad wants it to be seamless. He clearly knows his friend will guess who did it but won't be able to prove it.
I nod and get to work.
It is not hard, and I set up Dad's entire computer network to be protected. It is way too advanced for him, but it means no one can do what I'm doing.
I cast him a dark look. "Don't make a habit of this."
Dad laughs. "I will use you when it suits me."
"No, you won't."
"It goes both ways. You using me when it suits you, and then refusing to repay the favor is pretty poor form."
"What do you think I'm doing?"
"What I ask. Because we both know I won't put up with poor form regularly, Enzo."
I finish the job, and because the words "fuck you" press at me and I really don't want an argument, I rise, ready to leave.
Dad frowns. "What's the big hurry? You're here now, why not stay for dinner?"
"It's late." I straighten my tie.
Christ, it is just past ten p.m.
"So is dinner tonight. Stay."
"I have got work, Dad."
He laughs and gets to his feet, going to stand behind me to look at the work on the computer. It probably looks like nonsense to him. "Work? I don't call what you do work. I call it pissing your life away."
"One press of this button..." I hold my finger over the option key. "One press, and everything's undone."
"One phone call, and you won't get to see your sister."
He doesn't explain it.
I grind my teeth. "I'm not staying for fucking dinner."
"The housekeeper left, I was going to heat up her lasagna."
My stomach rumbles a little.
Damn it. I love Maria's lasagna. She is from Long Island but goes with him from place to place, and her food is phenomenal.
But I wasn't lying about work.
