Ivy has been groomed to be the first female Don of the Greyson mafia since she was little. Her whole life revolves around preparing herself for the role. From all the combat training she had endured, to pursuing business in college. It was all in an...
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Ivy
What is he doing here?
Why would Luke bring him here?
This is bad. No, this is a disaster. This is Hiroshima and Chernobyl rolled into one.
"Dad?" I gulp. My throat suddenly felt dry at the sight of the man who raised me.
"Well, aren't you going to invite us in?" He asked me. The order was clearly insinuated in his tone.
I step aside quietly to let them in. My eyes for once, found the floor to be interesting.
My father looks around the house, taking in everything that it has to offer.
"Let me guess, this is where you end up all those months you went missing." He finally said.
I remain silent. Not knowing what to say or do to pacify the oncoming storm. My head hung low and my hands interlocked together nervously.
What can one say in this situation? He already knows who Luke is. He probably even did some digging after that fateful poker game to find out more about Luke. And now that he's here, he would have guessed that this is how I first met Luke.
Is he mad that I'm with the son of his enemy? Or is he grateful that Luke had saved me, his daughter, more than once, if I may say so. Oh, who am I kidding? No amount of gratitude would change his mind about the Lombardi.
Luke slips his hand into mine, as he tries to calm my nervousness. I felt grateful for the small gesture but the thought of my father seeing our hands together, openly displaying the true nature of our relationship brought back the fear of what is to become of us.
"I see you've been cooking." My father suddenly said as he headed towards the kitchen.
"What are you making?" He asked, lifting the lids of the pot on the stove. "It smells delicious."
"Pasta," I said quietly. Too scared to raise my voice higher.
"Well, I hope you made enough for three." He said, pulling a chair from the dining table. He sits and then looks at me expectantly like he's waiting to be served.
I quickly drag Luke to the kitchen, hoping that we might have some private conversation that might help me gauge where my father stands. I know, the dining table and the kitchen are only ten feet away but I need information desperately. I need to know what to do, moving forward.
I hand the colander to Luke and told him to strain the pasta.
"Did you go shopping?" He asks me quietly.
"Yes, I went shopping, I wasn't about to spend time here eating canned food again. Now, tell me, how is my father here?" My answer came out a bit harsher than planned with alarm and horror written all over it.
"I'm sorry. When you went missing I panic and call up Bianca. The next thing I knew your father is next door in your apartment."
"Is he mad? Has he threatened to kill you yet?" I plated three plates of pasta and then pour some sauce on all three.
