“Thank you, I appreciate it. No loan, I understand and appreciate it. We could make it work.”
“Come back in a few weeks, make the plans to find out how much you’ll need. We’ll sit down and agree on terms.”
“Mr. Sabatini, sir, thank you.” He looks to me. “Ms. Conti, you’re getting a good man.”
I don’t even have my mouth open before he’s gone.
Dominic is on the phone. “I need you to find out who is doing this. Once you have him, sit on him. Do not move unless you need to protect someone. I want to be the one to take care of him.”
I’m looking anywhere but at Dominic, trying desperately to ignore what he means by wanting to be the one to take care of the man. Not sure if I’m a part of the problem for not being more upset at the idea of him killing someone who was raping women. What if it was a lesser crime? Would it be okay too, or...I don’t even know myself anymore. Then I spot it almost tucked behind a filing cabinet.
“You went to Columbia University?” The framed degree isn’t on a wall, it’s on the floor, leaning against the wall as if he didn’t care about it.
His eyebrows go up, he’s still in a mocking mood. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“You said you didn’t finish high school, that you got a GED.”
“Yes, and once Pop was out he was insistent I go back to school. Pop had the money, connections, and my SAT scores and recommendations were more than enough to get into any school I wanted. He wanted me out of Chicago while he put things back to rights.”
I’m in awe. I don’t know what to say without being any more offensive than I realize I already am.
“What books did you think I was reading in Latin when I was five and six years old? It was Plato, Seneca, Marcus A
urelius. Once I learned English, Twain was too boring to keep my attention. It was the reason why the social worker was willing to help me take the GED and get out. She knew I was further ahead than others. I had skipped two grades, once when I was nine and again when I was twelve.”
His phone goes off with a text, he reads it. Without responding he tucks his phone back into his pocket. “You needed air?”
God I hate his stupid smug face, the way one eyebrow goes up.
“I was sitting there being shown pictures and videos of their adorable children and...”
He goes stiff.
I hate him so fucking much in this moment. Hate him because he made me fall in love with him. Hate him because he lied to me. Hate him because even though he’s a lying piece of shit, I still love him and he doesn’t deserve it. “You don’t want children.”
His jaw clenches once, twice. Ice-blue eyes meet mine. “No.”
I hate my tears, hate them as much as I hate him. “Why?” I need to know.
“Because it doesn’t matter if my son has a degree from Columbia or the best fucking school in the entire world. He will never be anything more than a killer and criminal in this fucked-up world of ours.” The words are bitter. He might have said he didn’t regret anything he’s done, yet I can’t help but wonder if he really meant it.
“I don’t want that for my child. I want him to be whatever the fuck he wants to be on his terms. That won’t happen for him. It doesn’t matter if I call in every fucking favor I’m owed, give up everything I have for him, it will still haunt him in this city. Everywhere he goes, everything he does will be touched by it until it chases him away from me, so then what does it matter?”
Cold, he’s so cold. Goddamn him, how can he be so right when it hurts so badly? How can he so cruelly turn my every wish to ash, and I can’t fight him? Because he’s right. “If we had a daughter...
A shake of his head. “There is no guarantee of a girl. I would welcome a dozen girls if it were possible, but not when there is no way of knowing for sure.”
The sob rips through me without permission, Dominic’s hand is on my arm. No, I don’t want him to touch me. I pull away. “You lied to me. And you were going to keep lying to me.” I have no idea how the words get past the lump in my throat.
This time he doesn’t meet my eyes. All he does is nod.
“And that’s why I needed some air.” Before I break down, I flee into my room, slamming the door behind me.
17
Regina
I wake up to Mary bringing in a tray for breakfast. All I want to do is pull the covers over me and pretend that this day is over already.