Page 88 of A Favor Owed

I don’t say anything.

“What is this all about?” he finally asks. “I’m getting the feeling you don’t want my daughter’s money or to get in on The Business. I also get the distinct impression you’re not really seeking my approval or permission.”

“That’s correct, Mr. Pini,” I say. “We don’t want any favors from you. We want to be left alone. That’s all.”

His eyes narrow. “Did you meet in Professor Evangeline Camacho’s Civil Procedure class? Or was it Barney Baker’s Property class? Maybe Cliff Hovarian introduced you at Finnegan’s.”

I swallow.

“Angelina always thought I wasn’t paying attention,” he continues. “I was always paying attention. You being dumb enough to come here and ask to marry my daughter, though? I gotta say, kid, I hadn’t expected that.Almostearns you a little respect.”

“Please don’t come after her.”

I see his hand grip the phone tighter. “She’s my daughter. I would never hurt her.”

“Those girls you trafficked as sex slaves are people’s daughters,” I say. “So forgive me if I’m a little skeptical here.”

For a moment, I think he might find a way to reach through the glass and kill me on the spot. After skewering me with a look that could restore the polar ice caps, he leans forward.

“Despite what you or Angelina may think, I love her. It was a mistake to trust her with business. I knew she was never cut out for it. She wasn’t cut out for any of it.” His eyes briefly soften before hardening again. “But I don’t want to lay eyes on her for a very long time if she’s done what I strongly suspect she’s done. Get her out of New York. Do you understand me?”

I nod, wondering how I’m managing to sit upright and not throw up. “Yes, sir.”

He leans back again and crosses his arms over his chest. “Although you don’t want it,” he snarls it like he’s offended, “you have my permission to marry my daughter.”

He’s right, I didn’t want it, but I’ll take it.

“Thank you, sir.” I sit forward, prepared to hang up the phone, but Angelo doesn’t move. I settle back in my chair.

“I strongly suspect I’ll be out in time for the wedding,” he says with a bone-chilling smile. “I assume you’ll be busy with all of that and have to discontinue your assistance with my case, correct?”

Hint taken. We stay out of his way, and he’ll stay out of ours. I nod once. My days as an FBI pseudo-informant are 100 percent over, even if my future father-in-law wasn’t the scariest dude I’ve ever met.

“Does she know you’re here?”

I shake my head. “No. She doesn’t.”

That makes him smile, then throw his head back and laugh. “She’s gonna be pissed.” He shakes his head, still smiling at me like I’m the funniest thing he’s ever seen. “Good luck, kid. Make my little girl happy.”

“That’s all I’ll live for, sir.” We hang up the phones, and I leave.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Angela

I ratted out my dad. I’m officially a snitch. I should be constantly looking over my shoulder. I’m waiting for a locked doorknob to turn or a stranger to show up, someone watching me who doesn’t belong. But Agent Rivera was right—somewhere deep inside, I know my father wouldn’t hurt me.

The news updates on my phone tell me very little, only that my father was arrested and managed to get himself out on bail after just a few weeks, thanks to his high-priced lawyers and some technicality in the arrest warrant. Occasionally I get a frantic email from my mom ordering me to come home, to which I respond that the roads are impassable in the mountains of Tibet. Eventually I have to tell her what I did and where I’ve been, but I’m not ready for that yet. At the end of the day, I’ve given up my family to save another family. It was the right thing to do, but it doesn’t ease the pain of being alone in the world.

School is the only place I feel grounded. I can lose myself in my classes and forget what I’ve done and what it means for me. I can pretend that one day I’m going to have a normal life, one with a husband and kids and a mortgage and trips to the beach and hectic mornings trying to get everyone to work and school on time. I tell myself it’s more than a cute little daydream—it’s a goal, and I’m going to achieve it.

Of course, the one person I want to achieve it with got me into this terrifying situation in the first place. I’m so angry with him and so miserable without him and so in love with him that I don’t know where my anger ends and my love begins. Yes, he betrayed me and spied on me. But he also encouraged me and challenged me. He saw through me, not just because he knew who I was on a surface level, but because he took the time to scale the emotional walls I built around my heart. His optimism and honesty were flares of light, pulling me out of my cave of cynicism and giving me a glimpse of a brighter future, a future with a man who loves me so much that he’d put my needs and feelings above all else. It’s just a giant swamp of messy feelings that surface at unexpected and inconvenient times, like if I see a guy in a Yankees cap at the coffee shop, or if someone orders a Guinness at work. I have to close my eyes and take a breath and remember that his family always meant more to him than I did.

I direct my thoughts away from loneliness and betrayal as I sit in my Civil Procedure II class and listen to someone completely bungle a question about summary judgment. I scroll through my notes, ready to answer in case I get called on. Professor Camacho is on a tear today, intent on getting us to understand the difference between summary judgment and failure to state a claim. Unfortunately, she forgot to brighten the lights after her PowerPoint presentation, and the dimness is making me drowsy.

To wake myself up, I pull up Brady’s old screen name and instant message him. I know I’ll get nothing more than a blinking cursor in reply, but it’s entertaining in a sick sort of way. It’s one of the little ways I torture myself.

Seemskind of obvious to me, right? Failure to state a claim rests on the sufficiency of the complaint. Summary judgment rests on evidence produced during discovery.

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