Page 17 of Big Bad Daddy

“Do you think he was there for you? Does he know you moved out of your mother’s place?” I ask, sensing the root of her outrage. “Have you and he ever—” I make a vulgar gesture with my hands to illustrate what I mean without saying it. She’s so touchy about these things.

Tasha slaps my hand to one side and hisses, “Absolutely not! I haven’t seen him in ages. We’ve never done more than talk.” She looks over her shoulder, as if anyone we know is present. “And he gave me my first kiss. But it was innocent, just a peck on the lips. No tongue included. I don’t know what he thinks he’ll accomplish by feeding my mother Russian food. She can easily find it on the Lower East Side. I still think Boris was sending a message to shut me up.” She squirms in her chair and takes a long sip from her cup.

“Well, I think Gaspar is hot. Not as hot as Boris, but in the vicinity. And he gets along with your mom. That’s a big deal. Myparents are going to lose their shit when they find out I’m seeing him. They barely toleratemeas it is,” I whisper, noticing the table next to us is intently listening to our conversation. I don’t know why they’d care about two women spilling tea.

They look like stockbrokers in formfitting suits with slicked-back hair. The only things that type of guys usually care about are stock tips and leads. I might be imagining it, but something about them unsettles me.

“His age will be the least of their worries and you know it.” Tasha smirks, narrowing her gaze when she spots one of the brokers write something down. She tips her head to draw my attention to their table and blurts, “Those dickheads are listening and giving me the creeps.” She grabs her purse and slings it on her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

We hurry toward the door, huddled side by side as we push open the door and dash outside. Those men might be harmless, but it's essential to be proactive when you’re a young woman living in New York. Tasha takes my hand, giggling as she shouts, “What in the world were they doing? Taking notes to use on other women? Is that what the men of Manhattan have become?”

I chuckle nervously and look over my shoulder, sensing someone is following us. There’s no one there, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. I pick up the pace and pull Tasha along, dragging her through the crosswalk like a ragdoll. “Hurry up. Those creeps could be following us.”

Tasha takes the lead and scans the sidewalk. “I don’t see them. I think they were just being stalkerish, taking notes to ask one of us out.” She fumbles through her purse as she turns the corner onto our street. “Make sure they don’t see where we live.”

The closer we get to our place, the more panic sets in. They didn’t look like men connected to Boris, but maybe theywere from a rival gang. Could they have spied on us? Are they targeting me to use me against him? I don’t want to find out.

“Sybil Sheridan, you need to come with me.” A man pops out from behind a tree, brandishing an FBI badge. It’s not real. My family have been lawyers since the Gilded Age, and I know what a genuine badge looks like.

“Get away from me!” I push him to one side and make a run for it, leaving Tasha behind on our stoop. They don’t want her. Someone is after me and I refuse to be bait or collateral. I run at top speed and dig through my bag for my phone. There’s no reason I should trust Boris with my life, but I do. I know he’ll save me. I know Daddy will protect me.

I tap his number and hear his voice come onto the receiver. But I don’t even get a chance to scream.

Chapter Fifteen

Iknow where I am the moment I open my eyes. It’s my old bedroom, the one I lived in before my parents sent me to boarding school when I was twelve. I haven’t slept here in years, and I haven’t spoken to my parents in the last six months. They made my life hell when I chose not to go into the family business, and after butting heads for years, I cut them off, choosing to live with Tasha instead of coming home. It saved my sanity, and my friendship with her and Scarlett rescued me from the pits of despair.

The final piece is Boris. I know it sounds naïve. We’ve only known each other for a short time. But I don’t need months or years to recognize the other half of my soul.

Why would they take me? Why would they use fake government agents to kidnap me off the streets and bring me home? I don’t rely on them for money, shelter, or emotional support. They’ve never had much to offer in the first place. It doesn’t make sense, but I will get to the bottom of this.

I fumble out of bed and hold on to the wall to search for the light. My legs feel like Jell-O from the chloroform they usedto knock me out, and there aren’t enough windows to allow for natural light. It always felt more like a cage than a bedroom—a place that always made me feel utterly alone.

I run my hand along the wall and flip a switch that offers no more than a dim light, but enough to see my father sitting in the far corner of the room.

The light startles him, but his blank expression gives nothing away. When his eyes adjust to the light, he sees me standing alone. The angry features and icy glare I’ve known all my life return immediately. He's disgusted with me. That’s nothing new. But for once, I might merit his wrath. I’ve brought shame to the family; nothing matters more than his name.

I refuse to let him scare me like he did when I was younger. He doesn’t have that power over me anymore. “Why the hell am I here? Kidnapping and false imprisonment is a Class E Felony in the state of New York. If you don’t let me leave this instant, I’ll ensure you’re disbarred.” I don’t stutter or jumble my words like I used to in his presence. After years of emotional neglect and abuse, I no longer cower in fear.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, little girl? I’m your father, and you’ll show me the respect I deserve. We brought you here to talk some sense into you,” my father shouts and rises from his chair, furious that I would have the audacity to threaten him. He storms toward me but stops inches away, close enough to intimidate me into silence. “I heard a peculiar story about you today, Sybil. A client of mine, Yarina Pavlova, told me she met you in the company of a man named Boris Volkov. She said you were very cozy, and she was certain he called you his girlfriend.” He sneers and bares his teeth with disgust.

I’m familiar with that face. He’s directed it toward me since I was in diapers.

I keep my gaze fixed on his, refraining from showing the fear that threatens to break me. I’ve come too far to let him see mecry. He won’t ever get that satisfaction again. “When did my love life become your business? I don’t live under your roof or take money from you. I’ve supported myself since I was seventeen.”

My father’s face turns crimson. No one defies him, least of all me, the child he never wanted. “You may not be much, but you’re still a Sheridan. Volkov is a known criminal. He’s on countless watchlists. He’s only avoided prison because he has the money to pay off the right people. How dare you shame your family by consorting with someone like him? Do you have any idea the scandal you may create?” His arrogance has always astounded me. My father lives in another world, one that died off long ago.

Before I can answer, my mother steps into the room. She’s just like my father. Everything is about image and upholding our family name. Both come from old New York families that clawed their way to the top by stepping on anyone who got in their way. They live in their own world and set their own rules. And they’re far too delusional to understand they’re no better than criminals.

“Sybil, where did we go wrong?” My mother wrings her hands and bows her head as she moves deeper into the room.

I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling, but this isn’t my mother. There’s too much ice in her veins to show any genuine remorse.

“Where do I begin?” I challenge her, unwilling to fall for their synchronized guilt trip. “You were a terrible mother. You were almost as bad as him.” I point to my father and match his energy by curling my lip with disdain. “Feel free to disown me, but let me out of here now.” I curl my fist and keep my voice steady, fearful I’m on the verge of a full-blown tantrum. Nothing is beneath me now.

“How dare you!” My mother returns to her true, natural state. “It’s bad enough you embarrassed us by becoming a model, but now you’re seeing a man old enough to be yourfather. Your father and I expect you to end this before your scandal affects the firm.”

I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest. “No.” Boris may be dangerous, but they don’t care about my safety. He may be too old for me, but that’s the least of their worries. They care about appearances and losing control over me.

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