Rapture & Ruin by Julia Sykes

Chapter 8

Allie

“Are you feeling okay, sweetheart? You look tired.” My father’s warm hazel eyes were soft with concern, but his mouth pressed in a thin, disapproving line.

“I’m fine!” I said, too quickly. I didn’t want him to think I was hungover, but telling him the real reason for the dark circles under my eyes was out of the question. No way could I risk revealing that Max Ferrara had been stalking me, and I’d spent a sleepless night haunted by the terrible, itching sensation that I was still being watched.

Nervously, I plucked at the cloth napkin in my lap to divert my anxious energy. If I shifted in my seat beneath the weight of his scrutiny, I wouldn’t have a hope of resisting his command for me to return to the safety of my childhood home.

Just as I feared, his brow wrinkled, and his chin took on the tilt of paternal seriousness that meant he was about to try to strongarm me into something I didn’t want to do. “Did you go out again last night, Allie?”

I didn’t dare lie. I was a terrible liar, and he’d know immediately if I completely fabricated something. Hedging the truth was my best shot at getting out of this. If he continued this line of questioning, he would demand that I come home where he could keep a protective eye on me.

I’d almost suffocated under the weight of his concern for my entire life. My dad loved me, but I couldn’t go back to that house. He would smother me, and I loved him too much to allow that old resentment to continue festering between us.

“Yes,” I admitted, my cheeks flaming despite my best efforts not to appear guilty. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but Daddy already thought I’d gone into work hungover yesterday. My only option now was to dig myself deeper into that hole and hope for the best. “I went out with Isabel, Davis, and Charlie. But it’s the weekend,” I said quickly. “I worked really hard at the office, and I was stressed by the end of the day. I needed to see my friends and relax a little. I’m twenty-one, Daddy,” I reminded him, barely managing to straighten my spine. “I can go out on a Friday night if I want to.”

His heavy sigh weighed on my shoulders like a ton of lead, and I shrank into my seat despite my best efforts. “I keep forgetting that you’re a young woman now,” he admitted. “It’s hard for me to see you struggling like this.”

My heart squeezed. It would almost be easier if he railed at me for being a failure. This fatherly concern made something crumble in my chest.

He rested an elbow on the table and propped his chin on his hand as he leaned toward me, our beautiful pancake brunch forgotten. In that moment, it was just my dad and me; the buzz of other late morning diners faded into the background, and my full focus centered on him as I waited for more of his censure. I barely breathed as the awful anticipation crushed my lungs, iron bands winding tighter around my chest with each passing second.

“I wish your mother were here.” His eyes began to shine, and a lump instantly formed in my throat. “She would know what to say. I know I’ve never been good at some of this parenting stuff. But I want to be here for you, Allie.”

“You are,” I said quickly, forcing the vehement words through my constricted airway. “You’ve always been here for me.”

He swallowed hard and managed a tight nod.

Oh, god. Daddy rarely talked about Mom, and when he did, it shredded both of us. Even though a decade had passed since the awful night when we’d lost her, he still loved her as keenly as ever. Our love for her and our loss cut like a knife, inflicting a permanent wound that would never fully heal.

The fire had claimed everything that night: our home, my mother, my childhood. Nothing had been right since the day she’d died. We’d both failed to save her as our house burned, the consuming flames taking her life along with everything else.

My screams still seemed to burn my throat, and the iron bands around my chest were the phantom weight of my father’s arms, restraining me from running back into the fire to save her.

“I miss her too,” I managed hoarsely, reaching out to clasp my dad’s hand. His fingers closed around mine, and he briefly squeezed his eyes shut. “I love you, Daddy.”

His grip tightened in a pulse of warm comfort. “I love you too.” He scrubbed at his red-rimmed eyes with his free hand and drew in a shuddering breath. “Sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to get emotional. Eat your pancakes.” He released my hand and tilted his head at my untouched meal.

Dutifully, I took a bite. The syrupy sweetness was cloying on my ashen tongue, but I managed to force myself to swallow. If I just acted normal, Daddy wouldn’t be so sad. I couldn’t stand to see him hurting. For so many years, he’d done everything he could to protect me, and in turn, I’d protected him by concealing the worst of my suffering. I couldn’t bear to add to his constant pain over the loss of my mother. So, I’d endured the bullying in silence. If he knew about it—if he knew that Gavin was still messing with me—he would definitely drag me back home and keep me close to ensure my safety and happiness.

He’d never been able to understand that I couldn’t be happy when I didn’t have any freedom. Going to college and meeting my friends had been the best thing that’d ever happened to me, and it was a minor miracle that he’d allowed me to move out on my own this summer.

I forced down another bite of my pancakes, proving that I was okay. Even if it was almost painful to choke down the food.

I managed a small smile and changed the subject, my voice an octave too high as I attempted a breezy tone. “Mr. Callahan and I had a good talk yesterday. You gave me great advice.” The muscles around my mouth stretched into a strained grin. “I took responsibility for being late, and he was totally understanding. He actually praised me for my work ethic. It went way better than I ever could’ve hoped.”

Dad returned my smile, the corners of his lips twitching with the effort. “Mike’s a great guy. I’m glad that you’re on good terms. I know how hard you work, sweetheart. I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you.”

The lump in my throat swelled, and my eyes burned. Daddy never told me he was proud of me. Well, I could count the times he’d said it on one hand. I modeled my life choices in pursuit of making him proud; my father was a great man, and his pride meant everything to me.

“Thanks, Daddy.” My voice hitched on his name, and I quickly swiped at my eyes.

He let out a watery laugh and raked a hand through his silver-tinged copper hair, leaving the neat style uncharacteristically mussed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for this brunch to be so emotional. Why don’t you tell me about your internship. Are you working on any good cases?”

I leapt on the change of subject, eager to talk about something normal and safe. “Well, you know I’m mostly copying files and carrying coffee, but it’s amazing being in the office, surrounded by all those brilliant legal minds. I’m so happy that I got my placement. I really hope I can work there after law school.”

His smile broadened with genuine delight. “I’m sure you will, sweetheart.”

“But I don’t want you to pull any strings,” I hastened to add. “I’m going to get there on my own merit.”

“I know that too.” His grin turned a bit wry. “You’ve always been so stubborn about being independent.”

I nodded, letting that stinging comment roll off my back. He didn’t realize it stung. I might’ve been advocating for my independence for my entire life, but he’d barely allowed me any personal freedoms. Before college, leaving the house to socialize without a chaperone of his choosing had been out of the question. Not that I had many invitations to socialize. But sometimes I wondered if I would’ve been less of a freak if I’d been allowed to integrate with my peers a bit more.

“You okay, princess?”

Damn it, I hadn’t managed to keep my expression pleasantly neutral. All this stuff with Max and the sleepless nights were chipping away at my usual composure.

Max. He thought Daddy was involved in some sort of conspiracy with the Bratva. If I could only prove to him that it wasn’t true, then he’d leave my dad alone. His family was guilty, and the Bratva had nothing to do with that fact. Neither did my father.

Who better to ask for details about the Ferrara case than the man who’d brought them down?

“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m okay. I, um, part of why I’ve been so exhausted is because I’m trying to learn more about the Five Families case.”

His brows rose. “You’ve been studying my Mafia case? Why?”

“Well, Mr. Callahan was involved, wasn’t he? You know I cited his work on the Kassel case in my law school admissions essay. I was thinking about expanding my study of his career.”

Daddy gave me an affected frown, but his eyes danced with a teasing light. “You’re more impressed with Mike Callahan than your old man?”

I ducked my head, my cheeks heating from the lies I was spinning while staying as close to the truth as possible. “I don’t want to go into politics. You know that. I’d rather stay in Law. Mr. Callahan has had a long and successful career at the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time,” he assured me with a soft smile. “I don’t want you to go into politics, either. It’s not a life I would want for you.”

I nodded again, not questioning the familiar statement. Daddy had never pressured me to follow in his footsteps. He was pleased with my choice to pursue Law, but he’d been candid that politics wasn’t always pleasant. Above all, he wanted to protect me from any potential pain or suffering.

What he wanted wasn’t reality, but in this aspect, he didn’t have to worry. I’d much rather work pro bono cases and barely scrape by than be a famous, beloved politician like my dad.

And I had plenty of time to work as a lawyer and save up before switching primarily to pro bono. Daddy might even help support me once I made the change. He remembered how passionate Mom had been about helping abused women find stability and empowerment. He would definitely approve of my choice to pursue prosecution to get justice for victimized women.

Max’s dark eyes flashed across my mind. I don’t hurt innocent women.

He’d told me he was a monster, but he’d been careful not to hurt me while he was interrogating me. Then, he’d saved my life last night.

I remembered the gentleness of his thick fingers on my legs as he’d checked me for injuries. My skin still tingled at the thought of those big hands wrapped around my calves, holding me with aching care.

Max wasn’t pure evil. Not like the men who abused the women I’d helped while volunteering at the shelter. He didn’t find sadistic pleasure in scaring me. Kidnapping me had been a desperate means to an end: seeing through his deranged vendetta against my dad.

I had to reason with him. If I just understood his family’s crimes better, I could prove to him that the Bratva had nothing to do with the case that had sent them to prison. Even if the Russians were tangentially involved, that didn’t absolve his family. All Daddy had done was bring them to justice. If I could make Max see that, I could protect my father from his misguided retribution.

“So, what about the Mafia case?” I prompted, keeping my dad focused on what I needed to know. “Who were the five crime families you took down, again? Gambino, Lucchese, and Ferrara, right?”

“That’s right. And the Colombo and Maranzano crime families. I’m not surprised if you don’t remember the details. You were only eleven when we won that case, and I tried to keep work life and home life separate.”

“Do you think I could access the old case files?” I pressed. Usually, I never wanted him to pull strings for me, but to protect him from Max’s vengeance, I would allow it. “Maybe Mr. Callahan could point me in the right direction.”

“You seem to have a good relationship with Mike already,” he approved. “I’m sure he’ll give you access to anything you want to look at. Especially if it’s to further your career aspirations. It sounds like he values your work, and if he’s smart, he’ll want to hire you as soon as your get your Law degree. If he throws up any roadblocks, let me know, and I’ll make a call.”

For once, I didn’t vehemently refuse his offer of assistance. “Thanks, Daddy.”

I would get evidence of the Ferrara family’s crimes, no matter what it took. Then, I could show Max the cold hard proof that his family deserved to be sent to jail and prove that my dad hadn’t been working with the Bratva.

I didn’t allow myself to worry about how my mercurial captor would react to the news, but anything was better than him hurting my dad. Max would see reason. I wouldn’t accept any other outcome.