Page 92 of Dirty Pool

Talking.

Begging.

Nothing worked.

So, if he didn’t want to hear her, then she had little to no desire to hear him, either. Besides, if he wanted to treat her like a child by taking away her freedom, hiding her phone, and deciding who she could and could not be with, then she might as well prove him right and act like the child he thought she was.

He wouldn’t hear her when she tried to explain that Michel wasn’t the bad guy Charles thought he was—to her father, he was just that feckin’ Italian gobshite. Just another Italian for her father to see as a problem to his business, and life.

Certainly not the man she loved.

It was killing Gabbie. It killed her that she didn’t know what was happening outside of her father’s house. Not with his business, his men, or the people on the other side. Including Michel. Charles was so careful now about what he said around Gabbie, and he no longer allowed his men to freely come in and out to discuss the current happenings in the city.

She didn’t know anything.

Was Michel even okay?

Charles wouldn’t entertain Gabbie’s questions, either. Not when they came to what was happening between the Italians and the Irish, and certainly not about Michel. If she did dare to ask him a question about one of those two topics, he quickly shut her down and made it clear that it wasn’t for her to be concerned about.

She was a woman.

Not one of his men.

She was to remember that.

Oh, it had never been clearer.

Apparently, her father’s patience was running particularly thin with her at the moment. Maybe the lack of conversation, and awkward dinners was finally starting to get to him.

Who knew?

Grand.

Maybe he’d finally get the feckin’ point.

“Lass.”

“You know, the more annoyed you get … it’s not going to change the fact I don’t want to speak to you,” she told her father, finishing the last bit of her chapter. Setting the book aside, she finally did look at her father then. Not because he wanted her to, but rather, because she was done with the pretenses. “You can’t actually hold me here forever, Da.”

Charles arched a brow. “On the contrary, Gabbie, I can do exactly that if I want to. I have managed just fine for these last weeks. Please, go ahead and tell me how you think if you throw enough fits and say more horrible things to me that it will get you what you want when so far, that hasn’t worked out for you. Go on, I will wait.”

She scowled.

Her father remained cold.

That was the whole problem.

Since this conversation was clearly going to get her nowhere, Gabbie picked up the book she’d discarded earlier, and flipped to the page where she left off. Her father let out another heavy sigh at her choice, but she didn’t give a damn.

It was hard to care about him.

After all, he didn’t care about her.

Not really.

Charles proved that again and again by doing things that hurt her. Before, Gabbie was more than willing to overlook the things about her overbearing father that bothered her because he was literally all she had. Sure, she had uncles and aunts … cousins, too. Friends from school, and things like that.

But those closest to her?