Page 107 of LA King

I blink back tears. How the hell am I going to do this? “Where’s Mom?”

“In bed.” He rolls his eyes. “She’s having one of her migraines.”

My mother always has some ailment or another. I consider asking him to go get her or marching up the stairs and waking her myself, but I think better of it. I wonder if she has any idea what her darling husband has done. Was she complicit or simply not bothered enough to care? As far back as I can recall, she’s only ever shown an interest in his needs, at least back when she showed any consideration for anyone. He’s always been the most important person in our family. Everything has only ever been about him and his career, and I never thought to question it until last night, when I was reading through the files Alejandro gave me.

I look sideways at Cassandra, and she reads the situation like a professional. “I’ll leave you two to it. You must have lots to catch up on, and I need to prep for our interview later. I’ll see you for lunch?” she says to my father.

“Yes. I’ll see you there, Cassie,” he says warmly, and I notice the way their eyes lock for a fraction of a second longer than they should.

For the first time, I’m seeing my father without the filter of being his adoring daughter. Maybe my mother’s constant illnesses are due to something more than her being a hypochondriac, and like her, I was too focused on him to consider anyone else. Perhaps he has always had us both right where he wanted us.

Cassandra snaps me from my thoughts. “It was nice to see you, Alana.”

“Yes, you too.” I nod politely and turn to my father once she’s gone. “Is anyone else here?”

“Only Paolo,” he answers, frowning. “Why?”

Paolo has worked for him for two years, and I doubt much goes on in my father’s world that his personal bodyguard isn’t privy to. “I have something delicate to discuss, that’s all.”

“Well, Paolo is right outside the door, and he won’t bother us,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “What is it, sweetheart?”

I sit down at the table, and he returns to his seat.

For the first time in a long time, I really look at him. His hair is grayer than I remember, and he doesn’t seem as tall now. I used to find him formidable, but now he just looks like an old man. Still, he is my father and I love him, and what I’m about to ask isn’t easy.

“I want to know the real reason why you asked me to marry Alejandro,” I say, my voice trembling.

He frowns. “You know why. I would have gone to jail for the rest of my life, sweetheart. He threatened to expose me.”

I shake my head. “But with what, Dad? The information he has on you could damage his business too. Why would he ever expose it?”

His frown turns to a scowl. “For lots of reasons, Alana.”

“Such as?”

He snorts and shakes his head. “You wouldn’t understand. I’ve always protected you too much, and in doing that, I’ve failed you. I can see that now. You don’t have a clue how the real world works, sweetheart.”

Wow. Patronizing much? Does he actually believe any of that bull crap? “But that’s just it, Dad. I do. And what you told me doesn’t add up. Not to mention that on the day of our wedding, you received a three-million-dollar payout from the Montoya Corporation. So, I’ll ask you again. Why did you force me to marry Alejandro Montoya? Because it sure as hell wasn’t to stop him from ratting you out to the Feds like you told me.”

“He’s been filling your head full of lies about me. And like a stupid little girl, you believe him,” he spits.

“I’ve seen the papers myself. And I am not a stupid little girl.”

His cheeks turn red, and spittle flies from the corners of his mouth. “I can’t believe you would believe that animal over your own father.”

“You think he’s an animal?”

“I know he is!” he snarls.

I’m not sure if he understands the ramifications of what he’s admitting. “So you truly think he’s an animal, yet you sold your only daughter to him?”

“How dare you come into this house and accuse me.” He jumps out of his seat and shakes his fist in the air. “You ungrateful little bitch. I tried to give you a better life. And it was no easy feat either, convincing him to take you.”

“W-what do you mean?” I remain in my chair, trembling and blinking up at him.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you that, did he?” he scoffs. “How I had to do a real sales job on him to even consider looking at you. I convinced him you were a Manhattan socialite who would be able to hold her own in his world, instead of a boring bookworm who’d rather spend her Saturday nights working than going out with friends. But of course, you don’t have any friends, do you, Alana? You never did.”

I stand and stare him in the face. “I did have friends back in Brooklyn. But after I had to move in with you, I never had many because you insisted on making me work for you every spare hour I had.”