Page 49 of Forbidden Eyes
“No. I’m asking what you’d say if I wanted to travel?”
“I don’t know why you’re asking these silly questions, Fia. You’ve been working so hard, and now you want to throw it away just because you feel, what, too protected by your family?” She crosses her arms over her chest as if I’ve caused her serious offence.
“Mom, you need to understand that I’m not a little girl, and I’m going to do what I please from now on. Travelling is just an example, but I’m glad to know how you feel about me making my own decisions.”
We’re silent for the remainder of the journey. I can tell Mom is thinking over all the words we’ve not spoken. She’s assessing everything, weighing up the situation. She’s always very good at reading what’s going on. I’m almost frightened to contemplate her involvement in the Vico world over the years because somehow that feels like a worse crime.
We turn into the drive, and as soon as the car is parked, I’m out the door and carrying my bag inside the house.
“Where do you think you’re going?” My father’s voice echoes in the dull light of the front room. It’s like he’s been waiting to ambush me.
“To my room. I thought that’s where you’d want me after my little trip.”
“Sofia, stand still. I’m way past sending you to your room. If I had my way, you’d never leave this fucking house again without an armed escort.”
“Funny, I thought that’s what my lifehadbeen up until this point?” I stare at him, waiting for his response, no longer afraid of what he might do to me. After all, any of the respect he’s ever earned vanished the moment I learned just what his involvement was in that drug deal. I’ve survived a fucking kidnapping for God’s sake. The kind that involves men just like him. What the hell can he do to me now?
I storm up to my bedroom and chuck my bag on the bed. No more than five seconds later he comes bursting into my room after me.
“We are not done, Sofia. Do you understand me? You will explain yourself and what the hell got into you. Now.” His eyes glare at me, and for a moment I see just how his rivals or peers might see him if they displease him—the full power of Benjamin Vico’s wrath.
Screw him.
“You know what, Dad? Wearedone. Completely done. Because right now, I can’t believe you’re my father. How dare you come into my room and talk to me like this? And for what? What heinous crime have I committed? What travesty have I laid at our door? Nothing. I’ve done nothing for you to act this way, yet here you are!” My voice blazes through the room, growing in strength.
“What has gotten into you? How dare you talk to me like this? You run away like the spoilt child we’ve made you, and—”
“How dare I?” I raise my arms and point to myself in mock humour. “That is rich, Dad. How about we try this again?” My voice belies the fury pumping through my veins. All I can see in front of me is a fraud. An imposter.
“What the hell has Quinn done to you? He’s going to fucking pay for this.”
“Uncle Quinn has done nothing. I went for answers that you’ve refused to give to me. Refused to shed light on anything you or the Vico business do.”
“And so, you run to Quinn?”
“You gave me no choice. You’ve shut me out my entire life. Out of everything. You wouldn’t even let me go to a party.”
“Everything,” he grates, as he stabs his finger at me, and for the first time, I worry where this argument is going. “Everything I have done is for your own good.”
“My own good? You've stifled and lied to me. Kept me at a distance.”
“You’re a child who wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, really? A child, am I? A child who’s been researching why synthetic opioids are more addictive than natural ones? A child who knows that if we can identify and replicate compound complexities of the neurons and their receptors in the brain, we’ll be a step closer to unlocking the nature of addiction. This is what I’ve been working on since I was sixteen. A child involved in cutting edge research that will hopefully mean an end to the addictive devastation of drugs.” I pause, needing the break, and wait for him to challenge me. “But of course, you know all about that, don’t you, Daddy?” My voice lowers, a sneer of disgust levelled at this man who used to be my father. “You have a vested interest in my research because it’s business for you, too, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” His eyes narrow at me, trying to follow my random logic.
“Drugs. Drugs is your business, isn’t it? The Vico empire you run has been built on years and years of crime.”
His expression pales, only for a split second, but that’s all I need. That moment of hesitation as he plans his next step. Well, it’s too late now.
“I think you’ve heard far too many stories while away on your travels. I suggest you stop this now, calm down and we can talk about your behaviour later.” His tone is ice cold and full of malice. I look at his hands, watching one of them gripping onto the doorframe, his knuckles whitening.
“It’s not a story. I won’t have you cast this off as some figment of my imagination. Carter was with me when it happened. You’ve been making money from drugs, shipping them, dealing them and God knows what else, all your life, haven't you? That is your side of the business, the one the Canes have pulled back from.”
His sudden cool demeanour is miles away from the rage he showed just a few moments ago, as he stares me down. My eyes don't budge from his. I refuse to cower any longer. Benjamin Vico or not, I will not be quietened. “I saw it with my own eyes, Dad. Heard your name, the same name I share with you.”
“What do you mean, with your own eyes? Because I’ve been under the impression that you’ve been in Chicago with the Canes. Where the hell have you been? And why were you with Carter?”