Page 135 of Fighting With Light
“Now!” he yells.
I don’t have any other argument to give him, so I reluctantly hand it over, and he drops it on the ground. The screen shatters, and he takes the heel of his shoe and slams his foot down on it multiple times until it’s in pieces all over the floor. I force the bile crawling up my throat back down and try not to burst into tears.That was my only connection to Liam.I blink a few times and push the emotions down.
“Now that your distraction has been removed, look at me when I am speaking to you.”
I lazily drag my eyes up from the floor to him, and his expression says everything I need to know. He’sbeyondpissed, and I get to be the punching bag. While he stews, I look around his office for where he keeps files. It’s not like he has a filing cabinet. He’s sneakier than that.
If he doesn’t have actual papers, he has photos, and anything that he does have that’s electronic can’t be accessed by the internet because it doesn’t have a power source. Floppy disks and USBs can’t be hacked unless given power, and those sit in the safe and I know I’ll never be able to crack that or have the time to figure it out, so I have to find another option.
There are expensive vases on the built-in bookshelves with books that I doubt he’s ever read. There’s a gun in a glass case proudly displayed and a gun sitting on his desk next to papers that I can’t read from here. I study the desk a little longer, wondering if there’s a false bottom on it like the movies.
“Look at me!” he yells. But before I can answer again, he sets his sights on Ben, who stands behind me. “Benjamin, do you have an answer? I requested a check in and I was ignored. Do you have an explanation for that?”
I open my mouth to answer for Ben because he legitimately doesn’t have the answer. When things got wild in Colombia, I forgot to do a check-in, and I know that’s where I messed up.
Then my father picks up his gun and fires. The bullet lands between Ben’s eyes, and he drops to the floor. It all happens so fast that it’s all I can do to keep my mask of total indifference. I didn’t like Ben, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him to die. His blood is on my hands now, and I have to carry that burden.
I take a deep, quiet breath and blink away the tears behind my eyes. I willnotshow weakness in front of this man. I step my Louboutins to the side from the growing pool of blood and lift my chin.
“You know what, Aelia, I don’t care where you were, but your days of gallivanting around the world, pissing me off, and wasting my money are over. The time has come for you to take a husband and solidify the strength of the Costa family.”
I look him in the eye and say, “No.” I’m surprised he’s not yelling at me for being with Liam. That just goes to prove that he never paid attention to me, except to make sure I wasn’t killing myself. However, that did cross my mind.
It would be the ultimate way to get back at my father, but then the longer I thought about it, the more I felt like that would mean he wins. I am a pawn in his eyes. But what he doesn’t understand is that I am a queen. I knock over every pawn in my path.
He scoffs and drops his gun with a thud. “An agreement has been made. This is your duty as my daughter. You knew this was coming, so prepare yourself because we are going to Italy next week for your wedding.”
Keeping my chin lifted and my hands loose at my side despite my heart thundering in my chest. “No,” I say again.
Spinning on my stiletto, I take a careful step around Ben and force myself not to look at his body, and leave my father’s office. At least I know where to start looking.
I walk down the hall to the east wing of the house to my mother and keep my steps confident. I can’t collapse yet. Not now. I know he’s either watching me or listening to my heels click on the wood floor.
Mom’s door is closed like it usually is, and I lightly knock and open it. The curtains are drawn, and I see her laying in bed, safe. A sob bursts from my lips, and I kick off my heels and slide into bed next to her.
Mia Costa is a beautiful woman, but her light has vanished. I wish that I could bring it back somehow. But I think the only way for that to happen is if my father is gone for good. Seeing the women and the violence she has over the many years as his wife has ripped her apart from the inside. He’s never laid hands on her, but he didn’t have to. These wounds cut just as deep as a slap.
“Mama,” I whisper.
Her bleary eyes open and barely focus on me. She probably took something to help her sleep. They droop again and I stare at her in the dark. There’s a nightlight next to her bed and the dim, yellow light highlights her sunken eyes and pale skin. Another needle goes into my heart, and I gasp at the pain. Those seem to hurt a little more than others. Silent tears fall down my face as I watch her sleep peacefully. One of the only places she doesn’t hurt.
I listen to every slow breath and make a plan to get into my father’s office. I can’t wait around, especially when I don’t know what to expect each day. Being a mobster is a twenty-four-hour, seven-day-a-week type of job. But he’s human, and he has to sleep. The question is when.
I end up falling asleep next to Mom, and I don’t think she even knows I’m here. I don’t know what time it is and look for a clock, but there isn’t one in her room. I bet she doesn’t even know what day it is. Carefully sliding myself out of bed, I tip toe to my room across the hall. It’s how I left it, with off-white walls, lavender purple comforter, warm wood furniture, and gold accents. My closet full of clothes is to my right and it connects to a large bathroom with tile that looks like mother of pearl tile in the shower and a freestanding stone tub.
The clock on my nightstand reads one in the morning. Hopefully, he’s asleep. I hurry into my closet and change into some pajamas. If I’m caught, I can justsay I couldn’t sleep from the jet lag, and being in PJs will help sell it. My stomach rumbles and I sigh. Or I can just say I’m hungry because it’s true.
After changing, I wash my makeup off and quietly leave my room with the mini iPad I found in my desk barely charged, but enough to take pictures. I take a few steps and stop to listen. The house is quiet, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t awake. My brothers are in the west wing and may likely still be up. I take a few more silent steps in my sock feet and listen. Still nothing.
Keeping my distance from my father’s office, I kneel down and check to see if the light is on between the floor and door. My heart feels like it’s beating so loud it’s going to give me away, but the light is off, and I think the coast is clear. Getting to my feet, I tiptoe as quickly and quietly as I can. Resting my ear against the wood, I listen for any signs of movement, just in case.
All is quiet so I hold my breath and open the door, wincing as it squeaks.
It’s dark, and he’s not in here.Phew.
Closing the door quietly behind me, I start looking for anything that could give us the evidence we need to put my father away forever. Before I reach for anything on the shelf, I study it to make sure I put it back exactly where I left it. My father is a very careful man, and I won’t take any chances.
After memorizing where everything goes and using the moon as my light source, I reach for the first book on the shelf and flip through it. It hilariously is the Bible. I don’t think my father has read this book a day in his life. Next is an old book in Italian. There are four more, also in Italian, and then the last few were on business, in other words, not helpful. I carefully drag my fingers over every shelf looking for a hidden button, false side or bottom, and nothing. I check the decorative vases and even around the gun on display. Nothing.
