Unspoken Obsession (Casino King #4)

15. Frankie

FRANKIE

I wake up frightened as someone pounds on my front door. I hear Damion's cries from his room.

What the hell is going on? Who would knock so loud?

Is it Clarissa - oh shit - is something wrong?

I push away the dazed confusion of sleep and run to the door. As I pass Damion's room, I call to him. "It's ok, baby boy. It's just someone at the door. I'm going to see who it is."

He gurgles something I don't understand, but at least he stopped crying. I think he was startled just as I was.

No one likes to be jolted awake like that.

Just before I open the door, I realize I am wearing a long t-shirt. No pants.

Shit.

Ok, but if it's Clarissa, and she needs my help…

I yank the door open and stand frozen, in shock, staring at my father.

He looks me up and down with an expression of distaste.

"Dad?" I say in disbelief.

"This apartment building really isn't the safest place for you to be, Francesca," He says, pushing into my apartment.

I don't try to stop him because I am so surprised to see him here. His two goons are standing just outside my apartment door.

I glare at them briefly, but they are just standing, doing nothing - so I close the front door.

My father walks into my living room. I glance to the right and see Damion wandering from his bedroom. For a second I am terrified. Is my father here to take him away from me?

I run towards my son and pick him up. He snuggles against me, oblivious to my tension.

"Dad, what are you doing here?"

"What - a father cannot visit his daughter?" He sneers.

I bite my lip. I don't know what he is up to - but I hate that he is in my home. This is my safe place - where my son can be at ease, and I don't need to worry about anything. His presence here is making me very tense.

"Can I - um - do you want a coffee?" I ask. This is ridiculous. I should tell him to leave. But I can't. I just don't want to cause unnecessary issues between us. Fear settles deep inside me, and I hold my son tighter.

"No, no coffee. I came to tell you it is time to move back home. All of this bullshit with you staying here is a waste of my time and resources."

Between the fear, anger surges in me. "How can it be a waste of your time for me to just be living my life with my son?" I snap.

"Because it isn't safe, and I am wasting resources trying to keep you safe. Just come home. Living in the main house I can keep a better eye on you and your boy. It will be better for everyone."

I shake my head. No, it won't be better for me or for Damion.

He is pretending he wants me to move back there because of safety issues - but it's not true.

For him it always is - it will always be about control.

"Dad, I am staying here. I'm happy here."

"No, you are coming back to the main house with me. My men will help you pack your things. Get dressed."

Frustration burns in me. I set Damion in his chair in the kitchen then turned to face my father. "Listen carefully when I tell you I am not leaving this apartment. You will have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming if you want that. You hate to cause a scene. My neighbors are really nosy. I am old enough to live my life and make my own choices. And if for any reason I am not safe - it is still my choice not to live with you." I say with heated determination.

My father stands with a steel expression on his face, staring down at me. His white hair and white beard make him look cold and emotionless. His eyes are dead.

He watches me for a long time. My breathing grows heavy as fight-or-flight kicks in.

Then he smirks. A cold, heartless smirk.

"Fine." He says, and I let out a breath.

"Fine," I repeat.

"Stay here. But this is not the end. I want you back at the mansion. I'm sure you'll see the error of your choice soon enough."

I clench my teeth together, not wanting to say anything to trigger him. I just want him to leave.

He looks me up and down one last time, looking disappointed - then he pulls my front door open and leaves, shutting it behind him.

I stagger, and let out a heavy breath, fighting tears of fear and adrenaline.

I can't believe he was in my house.

My home.

He was right here.

Uninvited.

It was his way of reminding me he was still in control of everything. He always gets what he wants.

But he will never get my son. I will not move back into that house.

Damion will not grow up in the same horrible narcissistic environment that I did. It drains a person - being around my father that much.

I want so many better things for my little boy.

I turn to the kitchen and lift him out of his chair, hugging him tightly. He seems confused. Not even making a sound.

"It's ok, little guy. Everything is ok." I keep repeating - more to myself than to him.

I can still feel the burning threat of tears when I put him back on the ground and ask him if he is ready for breakfast.

I flick on the kettle, just because I need something to do. I need to be normal and try to grasp my morning routine. Coffee. Breakfast. Cartoons for Damion.

I am sitting on the sofa in the living room, still worried about how easily my father just walked in here - when my phone buzzes and I practically jump at the sound.

"Oh, my word," I mutter to myself, as I reach inside my purse for it.

My hand touches an object I don't recognize. I lift a small round disc out of the bag and stare at it in confusion. I know exactly what it is. A tracker. Is this from my father? Why would he need to track me though? He has Dumb and Dumber following me everywhere? He's known where I've been since I arrived. Was this just to track my other movements? I'm sick to my stomach as I turn the metal disc in my fingers. I need to get rid of it -- somewhere far from my home. But now I am terrified about who else is watching me. What do they want?

I set the tracker aside and picked up my phone.

It's a message from Dan. Even though I've spent the last few days trying to convince myself to leave him in peace - seeing his name on my phone right now, I'm thrilled. It's like a bright warm light amongst the chaos of everything else happening. I need this relief—this happiness. I need him.

I open the message with a smile on my face.

Dan: Hi, beautiful. I see there is another high-stakes game at La Muse. I assume you will be playing tonight then? I thought perhaps we could get dinner beforehand.

I hadn't realized there was another game. I want to play. And I've really missed Dan. After the unwelcomed visit by my father's here, I am eager to relax - and Dan's presence is as much a comfort as it is a complication in my life.

I type my response.

Me: Of course, I will be playing. We can eat dinner at the casino at seven.

Dan: Perfect. I'll make a reservation and send you the confirmation.

I finish my coffee and start to relax.

I will have to tell Clarissa not to open the door for anyone, no matter what. The hard truth is though - that if my father wanted to take my son he wouldn't need to do anything other than walk up to me and pull him from my arms. He has enough power and enough strength to get away with something like that. I couldn't fight him and wouldn't stand a chance against his millions in court.

I scrunch my eyes closed. There is no point in dwelling on such negative thoughts.

My son is safe. No one is going to take him.

Stressing about things that have not happened will get me nowhere.

After a lovely day spent with Damion playing games and reading his favorite stories - I am heading out of the apartment.

Dressed in a long dark gray dress of glossed silk that looks like melted metal as it moves over my body - I head downstairs to meet my Uber.

I don't see my entourage anywhere. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum are missing today.

My luck -- they will show up at the casino later; there is a game on tonight and they know I will be there.

On the way to the casino, I dispose of the tracker inside the Uber. It will keep moving around and confuse whoever is following me.

At least Dan has booked us the VIP room in one of La Muse's restaurants. It is a private room where I won't worry about who is watching me. No one can get in without a reservation and my babysitters are not that smart.

I can take a break from all of my worries and just enjoy the dinner.

I've missed Dan. I'm looking forward to seeing him. At this point, he is more of a comfort to me than counting cards.

I walk into the restaurant and the hostess leads me to the private room.

Dan is already there. He stands up and walks over to me, pulling me into his arms he kisses me before I even say hello.

I melt against him, leaning into his broad, solid chest -- letting the familiar scent of his cologne wash over me. I close my eyes and let him steal me away from everything with his lips.

He leans back and smiles down at me. His blue eyes are warm and inviting.

"You look as incredible as ever." He says, his hand drifting down my back and sending shock waves through me.

"So do you." I grin, running my hand over his chest.

He leads me to the table and pulls the chair out for me, tucking it in behind me. Then he sits down next to me and with his leg against mine beneath the table. I wonder how I stayed away from him for so long.

His eyes are bringing back memories of the night from the gala.

I'm so sure it's him.

I'm certain.

We chat, sipping champagne and enjoying our appetizers. And just when I am relaxing, he says, "Where are your bodyguards?"

My back goes a little straighter.

"Bodyguards?" I say.

"Yes, the two men who follow you around. I guess that must make you a rather important young woman." He smiles, but behind it, there are a million questions he wants to ask, and I realize I will need to answer them with caution.

I can't deny the men who follow me because he is aware of them - but I can explain it.

Perhaps a little bit of truth is all I need right now.

"My father is very overprotective. He just likes to make sure I am safe. As annoying as it is for me." I giggle, trying to make light of the situation and ease the tension knotting in my stomach. "He has kidnapping issues."

"Your father? You haven't told me about your family. Nothing substantial anyway. What does your father do?"

Fuck.

Why is he asking these questions now? Does he know something?

I can't tell him that my father is Antonio Musetti. Even people who aren't involved in the mafia know who my father is, and his name carries weight -- heavy, dark, and threatening weight. And to normal people, it is something to be ashamed of.

If Dan does business in Las Vegas, chances are he has, at some point, had an encounter with my father - and whether it was good or bad - I don't want to be associated with that.

"My father - is not someone I really get along with. So, I prefer not to talk about him." I sigh, shrugging.

"Oh, that's not good. It's never nice when we lose touch with our parents."