The Under Boss's Ballerina [18+]

48

"You weren't close with your mama, but you could've told me. You could've come to me for whatever was bothering you." He adds.

"You- you were angry?" I ask. "That was your reason, papa?"

"And then I felt guilty." He continues. "I felt guilty, I felt the anger toward myself that whatever it was, it was my fault that you couldn't come to me or talk to me. I felt ashamed of myself as a father."

"That's why you never called?" I ask, my voice small.

"Princess-"

"I, at least expected you would call." I add, chewing my lip. "I at least deserved a call, papa."

"I know princess."

"I hate you." I sniff. "I hate you."

My father discards the chair he was sitting on coming to sit beside me.

Close to tears, my papa pulls me close to him, resting my head on his shoulder as I feel a sense of comfort and protection wash over me.

"I know, mama." He sighs placing a kiss on the top of my head. "I know-"

I sniff.

"And if it were upto me, I would have never let you leave my straight." He sighs. "Not for a second."

It breaks me.

"But now you a big girl having a big girl's life, sí?" He asks.

I nod.

"Does he treat you right?"

I nod. "He does."

Fat, ugly drops of tears escape my eyes as I find my unable to stop them.

"Shh." Papa coos. The hand that was hugging me by the shoulder now patting my head, as I was small again. "Shh, duckling."

The door to the office room opens revealing mama and little Belle on her heels. A small bowl in her hand.

I wipe away my tears, sitting up straight as the woman and the small girl walks in.

Belle climbs up to the sofa beside me, placing the bowl of her chocolate munchies first and then placing them on her outstretched legs, loosing her small self into the chocky world.

"You want?" She asks holding out a log shaped chocolate cracker for me. "Its for the berry you shared."

"Grazie." I thank my little sister accepting the chocolate log cracker from her.

"But you only get one." She says. "Maybe two. I took one of yous toy."

I take the second chocolate log cracker that she offers me in exchange of whatever toy she took.

"Grazie." I thank.

"You are welcome." She nods absentmindedly, picking on her munchies, moving them around with her tiny little pointer finger.

"How old are you, Belle?" I ask pushing the dark curls escaping from behind her ears.

"I be five in three days." She replies. "Right, mama?" She asks.

My mother gives her an encouraging nod.

"How old is you?" She asks looking up at me.

I can't bring myself to fathom the similarities between the pair of us. Our hair, the eyes, her a shade darker, her nose-

"I'm twenty two." I reply.

She hums nodding. "This much?" She asks holding up two fingers on each hand.