Page 4 of End It All

I was freezing. Before I even came to this place to meet the man that had abandoned me years before, I had tried to find my own place to live. But even the tiniest, dirtiest hovel was too far out of my price range. I needed that money I had stolen, but Ma was afraid they would know I robbed the bank by the numbers on the bills, even all the way out here in New York. I was fucked. If my father decided to turn his back on me for a second time, I had nowhere else to go.

Throwing my head back and stiffening my shoulders, I resigned right then and there that if he wouldn't help me out, I would tell him what a piece of shit he was. And then? Well, I'd probably smoke my body weight in weed and erase myself from such a shitty fucking world.

I pushed ahead and stepped into the pristine building. Even the air smelled expensive. Frowning, I stalked over to the front desk and waited until it was my turn to speak to the woman behind it. She was young, maybe a little older than me. I checked her out and quickly realized my bitch face wasn't going to do anything here. Instead, as I stepped up to the counter, hands in my pockets, I gave her an appraising gaze before I smiled at her a little.

"How can I help you?" she asked, her smile faltering as she took me in.

Yeah, I stuck out like a sore thumb in this damn lobby. My hair was too long and shaggy, my clothes too old, my sneakers outdated. I was the equivalent of a bum in these people's eyes. But I knew how to play that card too.

"Sorry to bother you," I said softly. "My dad is going to be pissed if he sees me down here like this. I snuck out in my friend's clothes so I could go party last night, you know? Stupid. I should have been back by now, but he's really going to kick my ass if he sees me dressed like this." I leaned over the desk and looked around. "He hasn't been home, right? Vitale?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh… t-that’s your father?"

I clocked the nervousness in her demeanor and quickly realized that my mother was right. Whoever my father really was, he invoked fear in people. I could see it written all over this woman's face. I licked my lips and nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Can I go up before I get in trouble?"

Her cheeks pinked, and I smiled at her even more. "Um, I've never seen you around before."

I quickly tried to scrounge up a lie that would work. "Yeah, I've been away. Boarding school, in Italy, you know?" I smiled. "I just got back the other night, but no one's supposed to know I'm here. Can't you let me up? Pretty please?"

She looked panicked as if she didn't know whether or not to believe me. I saw the way her eyes darted around. She wanted to help me, but she was scared too. I searched her face and then her blouse. Her name, Holly, was on display.

"Come on, Holly. Seriously, you know what my dad is like, right? He can be a seriously scary guy. I don't want to get in trouble and neither do you."

That seemed to turn the entire mood into something much more menacing. As she picked up the phone, she fumbled anddropped it on the counter. I watched as her hand fluttered toward it, her bottom lip trembling now.

Jesus. Is my father really that scary?

I'd had to ditch my phone before I got on the bus so I hadn't exactly had time to look up the name. But, apparently, it held more power than I realized. Part of me loved that, the other part was sickened. Who the hell was my father, really? I laid it on thick, flirting with her for the next ten minutes or so until I tried once more to get upstairs.

"I—I'm sure your father would prefer me to call first," she muttered, stumbling over her words.

"No need," a man said as he took the phone from her hand and hung it up. "I'll take care of it, Holly. Forget you saw this."

She blinked up at the man before a sigh of relief fell from her lips. "Okay. Thank you, Mr. Morelli."

He grinned. "Anytime doll." He glanced over his shoulder at me. "Come on."

A sinking feeling filled the pit of my stomach. I glanced back at the girl behind the desk, but she was now actively avoiding my gaze. I pushed off the counter and forced my feet to move in the direction that the man was going. After all, I wouldn't find anything out by standing around in the lobby. However, I was a little concerned I was about to get whacked. That's what they called it, right? Getting whacked?

We headed toward an elevator and stepped inside. I kept my hands firmly tucked into my jacket as I jostled the bag on my shoulder so that it wouldn't hit the ground. The silence was getting to me, it crept up and choked me before I finally glanced to the side and met the man's eyes who shared a ride with me. They were unbelievably dark. Dark and cold.

"You said you're Mr. Vitale's son?" he asked, finally breaking the nauseating quiet.

I nodded. "Yeah. My ma just told me not long ago. Why?"

He stiffened. "And you're sure that he lives here?"

"This is the address she gave me." We fell back into an uncomfortable silence before I couldn't take it anymore. "Look, if I should go, just let me know and I'll run my ass right back to fucking California. I'm not trying to get caught up in the middle of shit."

The man raised a brow. "Feisty, aren't you? Well, you seem to fit right in with the rest of them," he muttered.

I had no idea what that meant, but before I could question him, the elevator dinged and we stepped out onto the top floor. The sound of people talking and laughing, the smell of food, and the atmosphere of peace made me severely uncomfortable. It felt as if I was intruding on something personal.

"You know, on second thought, never mind," I said as I turned to get back into the elevator.

A hand gripped my shoulder and turned me around. There was no question in that grip. The stranger steered me to the door before he called down to the front desk and told them not to allow anyone to leave the penthouse floor. My stomach twisted all over again.