Page 165 of Be With Me
It was past nine p.m. when I heard the sound of footsteps—sharp, rhythmic clicks of dress shoes echoing on the hardwood floor. They grew louder, closer then they stopped outside my door.
“How is she?” I heard my father’s voice.
“We served her dinner at seven,” one of the guards replied.
My heart began to race. I had a plan now. It hinged on my ability to lie convincingly, but I had no choice. This was my best shot at getting the truth.
There was a long pause. Was he going to come in or leave me here like some discarded piece of luggage?
“I’d like to speak with her.”
I darted back to the bed, turned on the recorder, and wedged it between the mattress and the wall just as the lock clicked and the door creaked open.
My father stepped inside, briefcase in hand, his mouth set in a flat line. He looked older than he ever had before, and for a brief second, something like pity scraped at my chest, but just as quickly, it vanished.
My stepmother had tried to pit him against me. As far as I could tell, his resistance only stretched to the times when I could still be useful to him.
Maybe he loved me in his own sad way, but it wasn’t enough. I was done begging for his scraps.
He set the briefcase on the floor and eyed the untouched dinner on the floor. “You didn’t eat.”
I shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”
He nodded like he understood. “The doctor told me you’re fine. We were worried for a second. There was a lot of blood.”
I rolled my lips at the flicker of concern in his eyes. If I wanted him to confide in me, I had to pretend like I was starting to come around to seeing his side. So I stayed silent, waiting to see what he’d say next.
“I’m sorry we had to do this,cariño.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, some distance away from me. His cologne, usually a comforting scent, now turned my stomach. “But you’re not in the right state of mind. That man clearly managed to trick you. You were always too trusting, Mia.”
Yeah, and you know that well, don’t you? You used it to your advantage.
My gaze fell to my lap. “I know. I’m sorry.”Lie. I hoped I was selling it. “I’ve been thinking over the last few hours since I’d talked to Aris.” I picked at a nail. “I… She said some things that upset me. But now…I can see that she was right. I made a huge mistake, Dad. I don’t know how it happened.”
“How did you meet?”
Is Romolo alive?
I had to bite on my tongue to stay silent, to breathe through the urge to ask the one question consuming me.
“At a party. It was an accident.”
He scoffed. “It’s just as likely it was all planned from the beginning.”
“Maybe you’re right.” I lifted my gaze to his. “But I never told him anything about you. I swear, I didn’t.”
Some of the lines in his forehead softened. “Good. That’s good.” He sighed. “Romolo wanted to use you to hurt me. And he succeeded. Even if you told him nothing, he still managed to fool someone very important to me.”
Important? I guessed you could say I was important—the way an expensive painting is important, there to impress and be shown off at the right moments.
“Knowing he compromised you hurt me.” Dad’s voice hardened. “But what awaits him once I’m in power will be a thousand times worse.”
My eyes fell shut.
The wave of relief that swept through me rattled at my heart.
It took everything I had—everything—not to let my expression show it.
He was alive. Somewhere out there. Heart still beating.
