at Dante, and Dante staring right back at him.
“All families have their secrets,” Dante says, his harsh voice in direct opposition to my father’s cultured tones. “You, for instance, growing up in Accra . . . I doubt you’d have to look far to find a relative who had cut someone’s throat for a few Cedi.”
My father doesn’t flinch, but I see the outrage in his eyes. I don’t know if Dante is aware how accurate that statement was. My father had two uncles who worked for a local gangster. One day they offered his sisters positions as housemaids in the wealthy part of the city. The girls packed their bags, planning to come home on the weekends. But they never came back—my father never saw them again.
Tata’s hand twitches on the tabletop. I think he’s about to respond, but Dante isn’t finished yet.
“That’s normal in Africa, I guess,” Dante growls. “What about after you came to London? That’s where the real money is. Hedge funds, mergers and acquisitions, large-scale real estate transactions . . . the Outfit is good with money. Very good. But we’ve got nothing on international financiers . . . that’s crime on a whole other scale.”
My father makes a tsking sound, his top lip drawn up in a sneer.
“I’m sure you’d like that to be true,” he says. “My hands may be black, but yours are bloody. Those hands will never touch my daughter. Not after tonight.”
Dante’s eyes get so dark that they’re darker even than my father’s—no iris at all, only black pupil.
I’m afraid that’s he’s going to tell Tata that he’s already touched me. In every way possible. I’m not Daddy’s pure little princess anymore. Not even close.
But Dante would never betray me like that.
Instead, he says, “That’s not your decision.”
“Yes, it is,” Tata says. “I am Simone’s father. She will obey me.”
Dante looks over at me. It’s the first time our eyes have met since this awful dinner began. And it’s the first time I see a crack in Dante’s armor. He walked in here like a dark knight, stern and unyielding. And now in his eyes, I see the first hint of vulnerability. A question: is my father speaking the truth?
My mouth is too dry to speak. My tongue darts out to moisten my cracked lips, but it’s not enough. I can’t form any words.
That muscle jumps in Dante’s jaw again. His brows lower in disappointment. He turns to my mother.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” he says.
And with that, he stands up and walks out of the room.
I should jump up.
I should chase after him.
Instead, I vomit directly into my soup bowl. All over the untouched gazpacho.
14
Dante
I shouldn’t have stormed out of Simone’s house.
I knew her father was going to challenge me. I just thought Simone would be on my side. I thought we’d face her parents together.
There isn’t a person in this world who could rip me away from her. I thought she felt the same.
So when I turned and looked at her and saw that doubt in her eyes . . . it put a tear in my heart. I could feel the flesh ripping inside my chest.
I would go through anything for her. As long as we’re in it together.
She was embarrassed of me. I could tell. I dressed so carefully. But it wasn’t enough. I can’t change what I look like, who I am.
I felt like a bear lumbering around in an art gallery. Everything I did was clumsy and wrong.
And then I left in a rage—proving I was exactly as uncivilized as they thought.
I try to call Simone after. Twenty or thirty times. She never answers. I can’t tell if she’s ignoring me, or if her father took her phone.
I lurk around their house for days. I don’t see Simone leaving in the chauffeured car. Only her father, and once her mother.
It’s driving me insane.
The more time passes, the more I think that the dinner was my fault. It was too much to expect Simone to back me up when I was acting like an animal. I antagonized her father right from the start—what did I expect her to do?
I have to see her.
I wait until night, and I sneak onto the grounds again.
But this time, the security team isn’t just fucking around. They’re on high alert. They’ve put up sensors and they’ve got a fucking Doberman prowling around. The thing starts barking before I’m ten feet onto the grounds.
I haven’t planned for any of that.