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"Dad! No! You'll kill him." The man attacked me, but I don't want my dad to kill him or get arrested for shooting him.
"Bastard broke into my home, I can shoot the hell outta him. I'll shoot his goddamn brain to Yonkers and his ugly family too," he yells out the window.
I hear Rocco's footsteps running away on the pavement.
My dad lowers his gun and looks at me. "You all right?"
"Yes." My chest aches from the pain of my heart trying to escape. I'm gasping for air. "I'm okay."
"Come down to the study. I need a drink." He wipes his forehead with the wrist of the hand holding the gun like he's comfortable handling it.
"No. I'm really okay. Thank you. I'll stay here."
He touches my cheek and pauses to look at the jacket I'm wearing. "I love you, little girl. If I hear you scream, I'll comerunning. That's why I'm here. That's why you live here. No one hurts you. Got me?"
"Yes, Dad." No one hurts me but you.
He nods and stomps out the door. I didn't even know my dad owned a gun.
What just happened? How did that happen?
I know.
It's my destiny. There are men out there who want to hurt me, and I need my dad's protection.
I'll never be free of him.
Chapter 13 Sunday Dinner
"You're looking thin, Miss Bianchi. Too thin." Charlotte, our housekeeper and cook, says to me.
My simple muddy brown wrap dress hangs loosely on my shoulders and doesn't hug my hips like it used to. I've lost interest in food over the last six months. I've lost interest in life. What's the point? I will always be Vaughn's daughter. I can't run from him or who I am. This is my existence. Each minute sucks the marrow from my bones like a blown-out egg.
The only time I'd ever thought I'd had a chance of a happy ending was with Foster, but he was an illusion I conjured because I wanted so badly for it to be true.
"We have an elaborate birthday feast tonight. Eat a hefty portion for me or you'll have me worried I'm not doing a good job." Charlotte's voice draws me from my wistfulness.
"You're doing a phenomenal job. It's not your food that's bothering me I'm just… I'll make sure to eat with gusto. Okay?"
"Thank you, Miss Bianchi." She smiles at me with caring eyes. It's nice and makes me miss my mom.
She pats my back. "We're almost ready."
I nod and force my lips and eyes into the facade of Milana Bianchi. I don't dare to engage as my true self because no one cares who I really am. They all want Vaughn's dutiful daughter to show up and do her smiling act.
I've been dreading tonight. My father invited his two brothers—my uncle Vinny and Uncle Sal—and their wives. My dad saysfamily who eats together stays together, so we have these Sunday dinners that usually devolve into a drunken shouting match with everyone talking at the same time. They're always complaining about something. The traffic, the weather, prices, people talking smack.
My dad doesn't care if I'm bored out of my mind and it's nothing a twenty-five-year-old girl would want for her birthday. It meets his need to prove we're close.
"There she is. The birthday girl." My Aunt Sylvia, who is plump and over dressed for dinner at her brother-in-law's, hugs me. I embrace her but I'm blank inside. She doesn't care about me. She's putting on a show for her husband and my father.
Over her shoulder, two men in suits standing by the wall on the far side of the dining room. My gaze passes over Renzo quickly and lands on the other man.
My throat grows thick like I've swallowed an apple whole.
A thief has stolen the oxygen from my lungs.
Olive eyes take me in from head to toe without blinking or moving an inch. The man looks exactly like Foster.
