Free Fall

Chapter 14

"How much would it take?"

Roberto's voice is rough and painful-sounding. Though his build is still powerful, his voice has noticeably aged and weakened.

"How much would it take for you to leave my son?" he repeats when I say nothing.

"I understood you the first time, Rob. And I have to say, I'm disappointed. You're so predictable."

He steps closer, as if his words will sink in better than the first time. "You could pay off your father's debt, move to a new city, finally have that career you always wanted."

I lean back against the thick wood railing of the balcony, feigning nonchalance as I people watch through the wall of glass that separates us from the bustling event.

"I know you're not really in love with my son. He has a job to do and instead of giving all his attention to his people, he's snuggled up with you, playing happy home. Name your price, I'll get it."

"Will you? Can you? Because I heard a rumour that you don't sign the cheques anymore."

His blow comes out of nowhere and it knocks me off balance. I stumble a few steps back and before I can right myself, he's all over me. His fingers wrap around my neck so stiffly, I know I'll have a bruise in the morning.

"How dare you speak to me like that? You mean nothing in this world, to these people. You're like gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe. You mean nothing."

I claw at his fingers, but he spins us and presses me against the railing so hard my back screams in pain. His other hand moves to the side of my dress with the slit up the leg and he brushes his fingers slowly from my knee, up my thigh.

"I could f*ck you out here, or kill you if I so wished, and not one person in that room would come to your rescue if you screamed. Look at them. Look at the party. None of them are watching. No one cares. You mean nothing."

As prompted, I do glance over his shoulder. He's right. No one is watching.

"You're right," I heave out with the little air his hand around my throat allows. "Then no one would see if I killed you."

An animalistic growl rips through his teeth and his hand moves from the bare skin of my thigh to his own belt buckle. He struggles to get it undone with one hand.

"You asked for this, you f*cking b*tch."

I take his momentary distraction as a chance to remove my sharp hairpin from beneath the elastic band at my hip and I free my arm just enough to press the sharp end of the pin into his neck.

He stills instantly and his hand on his zipper moves into the air instead. Despite the deadly position, he grins.

"Do you think you can kill me with that?"

"I'm a trained medical professional, you bastard. I can absolutely kill you with this. But I won't, because then they—" I nod my head toward the party, "—will try to kill me. It will however, be very painful, very bloody and very debilitating for just long enough for me to get away."

I pause for a moment to let my words sink in. With his hand still wrapped around my throat, I gasp for enough breath to say, "Instead, I'll ask you to remove your hand from my throat and let me join the party."

With another loud, old sound of frustration, he rips his hand and body away from me like I've burned him.

I massage my tender neck and pull in deep breaths, feeling as though I've just run a marathon.

"What. The f*ck. Is going on out here?"

I don't know that I've ever heard or seen Damian so angry. I move my weapon, laced with a bit of blood from puncturing Roberto's neck, behind me so he can't see it.

I don't think to check for any other incriminating evidence of our power-struggle until I watch Damian's demeanour change so completely that I hardly recognize him when he sees his own father's bloody neck, open belt, and unzipped trousers.

Seeming to be stuck in a state of shock for several moments, he looks between me and Roberto a few times, as if not sure whether to console or attack first.

Then he jumps into action. He snaps his fingers at a guard by the door, which is when I notice pretty well the entire population of the room witnessing he scene.

"Get her," he says.

I don't understand why one of the guards pins me against him until Damian turns to his father and growls, "I'm going to f*cking kill you."

"No!" I shriek and struggle helplessly against the cage of arms around me.

"Damian, you don't want to do this. Not for me. Don't do this!"

His father's face remains completely placid, as if he knew this was coming. As if he wants Damian to kill him.

Someone hands Damian a gun and I glare daggers at him, but he pays me no mind. He cocks the gun as his Roberto drops to his knees, prepared for the end.

This is just like all those years ago, when Roberto executed those two men at a gala just like this one. Roberto has no fear of death—he wants this. He wants Damian to follow in his footsteps, and this will solidify that path. As genuinely evil as Roberto is, Damian will never forgive himself.

"Day, please. Don't do this. I love you, don't do this," I beg. It's like I don't exist. No one pays me any mind.

I scream and squeeze my eyes shut when the gun goes off and nothing but silence and the slight ringing of my ears follows.

I'm released suddenly and I stumble forward, tumbling into Damian who remains still as a stone.

I can't look away from Roberto's limp body, which is when I notice the bullet hole on the side of his head.

"Wait. Damian, wait. That wasn't you," I breath, my voice still gravely and my throat burning with each word. It's probably already turning purple.

I shake Damian to get him to look at me.

"That wasn't you," I tell him before looking through the shattered glass pane next to us for the guilty gun.

The way the crowd parts way is practically biblical and behind two rows of people stands Orlando, pistol still raised.

He hands the gun to another suited man and steps through the now open pane in the glass wall, looking equally as shocked with himself as I am.

He stops just in front of me and lifts one of my hands.

"Give this to me. You're bleeding."

I hadn't realized how hard I'd been holding my weapon. I'd cut my hand open on it so badly I was dripping blood everywhere.

I look at Damian as Orlando wraps my hand tightly in one of the pristine white cloth napkins.

"Day?" I whisper and raise my good hand to his jaw. "Say something."

This breaks his from his trance and he looks down at me, immediately taking over for Orlando.

I try to focus on Damian, and not what's going to go down between the two good friends for what Orlando's done. Will he be relieved? Angry?

"You're bleeding," he repeats.

"I'm okay, it's not major. Are you okay?"

In response, Damian bends down and kisses me.

"Let's get out of here."