Page 32 of Secret (Chicago Underground 6)
I thought of running again. It was what I had done in that hotel suite. What I had done for so many years. Why not keep going? Leave Luke behind.
Stepping aside from the tree, I said with as much casualness as I could muster, “Hi, Daddy.”
“You went too far this time.”
“Have I been a bad girl?” I smirked, wrapping the cloak of whorishness more tightly around me. Let him see what I had become, what he had made me. “Am I going to get a spanking?”
He came closer. “Don’t make me come get you. It will only make this worse.”
My laugh had a maniacal tilt, breaking cover. “How exactly could it get worse? Please explain that to me.”
“I let you have your fun. But you always knew you’d come home.”
He walked closer. Even in the twilight, I could make out the lines of his face, the gray of his temples. It made him more dignified. Objectively, I could see that he was handsome, to someone who wasn’t his flesh and blood. I hated it, the way beauty could be a privilege and a curse. The way it turned me into a commodity. No, he did that.
“Why are you here?” I asked. “Why now?”
“I’ve never left. How do you think Henri found you? I had trained you. You were mine, and I wasn’t going to let you go, working for a C-note a night. I told him where to find you. I told him to hire you. I’ve been here since the beginning, getting a twenty-five percent cut.”
I felt sick but strangely unsurprised. “Henri isn’t family.”
He frowned. “No, but he was useful. For a time. He always had a weakness for that Chinese bitch. He should have killed her.” His laugh sent chills down my spine. “And then he found the girl. You should have seen him, the proud papa. I almost bought him some cigars.”
A gasp escaped me. Claire was his daughter? “Then why did he pimp her out?”
“Henri is unoriginal,” he said flatly. “He tried to do the same thing I did, but he didn’t understand. I had groomed you from the beginning. So very early. He wanted to take a shortcut, and now look at the mess he made.”
“Groomed me for what?” I spat. “For being a prostitute? Are you telling me you were that hard up for money that you needed a few extra grand a week?”
“It’s not about the money you earned. That was nothing. This is a family business. How else were you going to run it if you didn’t understand it? I couldn’t just put you at the helm. They would have eaten you alive. But now…now you’re strong enough.”
“You’re delusional if you think I’m going to run your business. This business. It disgusts me. The whole thing disgusts, the men and the women and—”Me, me, me. I disgusted me, though I couldn’t tell him that. “The only reason I did it was because—”
“Because you had to? Because you didn’t know how to do anything else? Other people may buy your excuses but not me. You’re smart and beautiful. You could have done anything, but that’s what you chose to do.”
“I needed the money.”
“Your friend needed the money, and you needed to be the one to give it to her, didn’t you? That’s your Achilles’ heel.”
“Friends?”
“Pride. You live for the gratitude, for praise. We all have a weakness. The only question is whether you let it rule you.”
“Do you?”
He paused before answering softly, “I’m afraid so. It’s you, actually, but you know that.”
Yes, I knew it. I remembered the way his footsteps would pause outside the door before he came in…much like they had earlier tonight in the cell. The hesitation wasn’t his conscience—it was his pride. He didn’t want to be dependent on a little girl. “And you’ve always hated me for it.”
His gaze flicked over me. “You look more like her.”
“Is that all? Would it have turned out differently if I had looked like you instead?”
“I hated her too.” He looked faraway. “That kind of power is unnatural.”
I remembered the story my mother had told me about the princess in disguise. This was the lesson my father would take from it, that a woman held unshakable power, over her father, over the men in her life. The tale looked different to each listener, the lessons it told a testament to our deepest desires.
The most important question came to me, one I had first thought when he came into my room with a bag of her melted-down jewelry. “Why did she leave you?”
