What the hell am I doing?
I lifted myself off his still-laughing form and grabbed my head with both hands. I was losing my mind. I had to get out of there.
“You truly are just like your father.”
My face twisted in disgust.
“Fuck you, Donicko, I’m nothing like John.”
He laughed again and shook his head as he straightened his button-up shirt, brushing out the wrinkles my fists had left.
“I told that bastard to tell you a long time ago.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “John’s not your father. I am.”
I shook my head, not believing a word coming out of his mouth.
“What the fuck is this? You’re lying. Don’t you think I’d know if you were my father?”
“Not if you didn’t know the whole story.”
“I don’t need to hear a goddamn story. As far as I’m concerned, John never was my father, and you sure the fuck aren’t, either.” I threw my hands up in defeat. “This whole conversation is bullshit. I’m out of here.”
I took a few steps toward the door when Donicko spoke again.
“You leave when I say you can leave, boy. Sit the fuck down. Now,” he stated calmly but firmly.
I stopped where I was and took a deep breath. I knew I could walk out that door. It wasn’t that far, but deep down I wanted to know. I needed to know the truth, even just for some fucked-up way to torture myself.
I turned slowly and walked back to my seat as Donicko poured himself another drink then made his way back to the couch.
“Let me tell you a story,” he started then threw back the liquid. “Once upon a time, there was a brunette goddess named Amelia. She was perfect in every way. Her skin porcelain and flawless, her eyes were bluer than the sky above. Gentlemen from all over wanted her, but I was the boss and I wouldn’t let her go, even though the bidding went way beyond what I could have ever imagined. She was precious, a gem to possess and cherish. But then, that gem became with child. If the circumstances were different, she might have been more excited about having a baby, but you see, there isn’t much of a life for the child of a sex slave.”
I balled my fists together, digging my short nails into my palms as I tried to contain my anger.
“I still remember when you were born, though. You were a feisty son of a bitch, crying nonstop. You looked just like her, you know. You still do.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “But alas, you weren’t welcome to stay. My home was no place for a child, so that’s when I contacted John.” He chuckled. “That bitch had been trying for years to have a baby, but she never got pregnant. And when John approached her, she was all too willing to take you. She didn’t look sorry for one moment as she took you from Amelia’s arms.”
I stared at him blankly, trying to absorb the story, something that could quite possibly be real. The words John spoke the day my mother died rang in my ears.
“She wasn’t your mother anyway. She wasn’t your mother anyway. She wasn’t your mother anyway.”
The words kept playing over and over in my mind, and my body went numb. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to react. What do you say when someone is turning your world upside-down? Telling you the demon you’d been trying so hard to get rid of would be a permanent fixture in your life? There would be no getting rid of that kind of evil.
I’m the devil’s son? Donicko is my father? I stared at the wall with the painting I’d noticed earlier.
No.
I stood from my seat and tried to tamp down all the feelings flowing through me.
“No,” I mumbled under my breath as I shook my head. Marcella wasn’t like that. She was a kind-hearted, loving woman. She was my mother. I wasn’t going to listen to anything this fucker had to say. “I’m not your fucking son.” I didn’t care if everything coming out of his mouth was the truth. It took more than sperm to make a father.
He smirked. “Oh, but you are, Mason. I think deep down, you know it’s true.”
“Even if it’s true, why would you tell me after all this time? There’s no benefit for you with me knowing. You could have left me thinking John was my father.”
I didn’t understand. A part of me figured he had an agenda, the other part thought he was just fucking with my head. He likes to play mind games, and he’s good at them.
“You’re right,” he stated as he reached down, sliding his hand into his pants pocket to retrieve his phone. He pressed a few numbers then held it up to his ear. “Come to the parlor,” he demanded then ended the call. “There is no benefit for me Mason. This is your empire. The empire you helped build. One day, it shall be passed down to you just as it was to me.”
I ignored his declaration entirely. There was no fucking way I’d have anything to do with his empire. And then I realized the question I should have asked to begin with.