Blood Ties (Dinero de Sangre #2) - Lana Sky Page 0,33

you—”

“So hate me, then,” Domino commands, sounding in control once more. Still, he applies even more pressure to my nose, forcing me further against his chest. “Hate me all you want, Ada… I can allow you that much.”

More tears spill down my cheeks, mingling with the blood. This is his idea of mercy—doling out hate as though it’s a cherished gift. The only thing he can and will ever offer me.

Hate and pain.

And lies.

Chapter Ten

He goes away. I’m so numbed by exhaustion that I don’t even recall when or why. I’m still lying on the bathroom floor, facing the tub, surrounded by a graveyard of crumbled, blood-stained tissue.

It took several tries before the bleeding stopped completely. My nose feels like a swollen, painful lump that hurts to breathe through. I try running my finger along its bridge to assess the damage and wind up moaning, seeing stars that speckle my vision.

“You didn’t break it.”

I stiffen with the realization that Domino is still here, just somewhere beyond my line of sight, his voice effortlessly resonating throughout the entire room.

“You’ll live.”

It’s a mean choice of words, and I can’t help but laugh at them. However, the sound comes out resembling a sob more.

“You are nothing like Pia,” I tell him. Considering everything Pia Inglecias put me through, that isn’t a compliment. A teenage girl who used lies and manipulation to get her way, still possessed more tact and humanity than he has.

I think of them in comparison to each other, and I can’t even discern a physical resemblance. Except for their eyes, maybe. Both have that same, murky hue of hazel, though the green in Pia’s was more prominent.

She was so very beautiful. That beauty aided in her confidence and ability to win anyone over to her side. She had a way of making someone feel special, like the most important person in the world, just as long as they had her attention. She could be so sweet when she wanted to and so damn charming.

On the other hand, when the mood struck her, she could be so very mean.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Domino replies, and his voice alone reinforces the divide between him and my childhood friend. Pia spoke musically, her emotions evident in her tone. When she was happy, she almost sounded as though she were singing. When she was angry, her words became honed like a whip, lashing out at whatever had sparked her ire.

“I don’t think my father killed her,” I admit, though I don’t know if I’m speaking to myself more than Domino.

Why would he kill her? She was everything I could never be, a perfect missing key to his arsenal of manipulation and influence. He could have molded Pia under his wing, using her to do whatever he desired. Not just sexually, but politically.

She would have served him far better than I ever could.

Killing her would be messy. It would mean utilizing his precious resources and covering his tracks. Doable, but requiring far more effort than I think a schoolgirl with a crush would demand. Even if she went public about her relationship with my father, it would be her word against his.

And his word was law.

“But if he did,” I add, my voice scratching at the silence. “He would need a reason...”

Something more egregious than her simply stealing money from him. She would have needed evidence of something far more damaging. So damaging, in fact, that nothing plausible comes to mind. This isn’t some scripted crime drama. My father was a violent, egotistical, misogynistic man, but he wasn’t pure evil.

Though, I guess I should use present tense, considering that he’s still alive…

“I have reason to believe that Pia had something that would put his entire future into question,” Domino admits. “More than money. Something that would cast a shadow on him not just politically, but make him a walking target of his most powerful enemies.”

I frown, triggering a wave of pain that spreads from my nose and into my eye sockets. I let my eyelids lower and contemplate such a possibility in the darkness. If his reputation was on the line…

Well, that was something that Don Roy would kill to protect. He’d do anything to shield his image, no matter the cost.

Anything.

“What was it?” I ask.

Only silence comes in response. I start to question if he’s still here, but I can sense his presence, as vibrant as the blood. He must be behind me, lurking by the door, blocking my potential exit should I