Broken Rules: (Broken Duet #1)

EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER

The hotel bellboy leaves my suitcase by the bed and proceeds to unload my ski gear off the trolley. I take my thick winter coat off, heading straight to the bathroom to take a hot shower. Frank offered to spend a few days alone with me for the first time since I turned six. If there was anything else I wanted more than his attention, I wouldn’t have agreed to a weekend in Aspen.

Just the thought of all the snow and freezing temperatures is enough to scare me away, but I agreed because spending time with Frank compensates for the inconveniences. Skiing and talking took up most of our time. Each time he asks a question, I feel happier. He wants to know my plans, how my Italian is coming along, and whether I’ve made friends with Allie.

He’s cheerful for the first time in years. He even smiles, watching my clumsiness stop me from mastering the art of not falling down every ten seconds.

After dinner, we sit in the corner of the room, Frank with a glass of bourbon and me with a glass of mulled wine. It has been a while since I’ve felt so blissfully happy.

“It was a pleasant day, don’t you think?” Frank stretches out in his chair.

“Yes. We should do it more often. I’m willing to endure the cold and a sore butt.”

“Yes, it’d be nice if we could do it more often and build our relations without anything standing in our way.” His tone changes. He’s still friendly but nervous, too.

“What stands in the way?”

“Me… my business.” He waits for a moment as if deciding whether to keep talking. “I need your help.”

An unexpected shot of adrenaline jolts my body. I’ve never heard Frank Harston ask for help before. He’s too proud, too self-sufficient to seek help. I know that him asking and asking me of all people is significant.

I jitter in my seat, growing impatient. Maybe if I help him, I’ll earn his acceptance. For five years now, he’s been treating me like a stranger. He was never a loving, caring father, we were never close, but five years ago, an invisible, impenetrable wall grew between us.

“Of course. What do you want me to do?”

Frank smiles, pleased with my eagerness. “I want you to help me regain South.”

My eyebrows form one line. That’s the last thing I expected to hear. “I don’t understand… how?”

“Five years ago, Dante Carrow took South of Chicago away from me.” His expression turns serious. “He was like my brother, Layla. I taught him everything. I showed him this way of life and introduced him to the right people.” He scoffs, anger tainting his features. “There was a time when I’d give my right hand for him. I trusted him, and he put a knife in my back. He betrayed me.” He lowers his voice. “The time has come for revenge. I want to destroy him. I want to take away everything he holds dear, but I can’t do it alone, and there’s no one I trust more than you.”

A wonderful warmth washes over me. “But how am I supposed to help you? What do you want me to do?”

Frank strokes his beard, staring at me. “Make him fall in love with you.”

I choke on the wine and start coughing, glaring at him wide-eyed. This has to be some sort of cruel, sick joke. It makes no sense. It sounds absurd, but Frank is very serious. “Make him fall in love with me?” I drink more wine to moisten my dry, sore throat. “You’re joking, right? I don’t understand. How will it help you?”

“Two birds with one stone,” he says, not explaining anything. “I want him to feel what I felt when he betrayed me. I want him to know what it’s like to lose something that means the world.”

I consider laughing. This is… absurd. Incomprehensible, but I know better than to question or—God forbid—disregard my father, so I tread lightly. “Why don’t you just kill him?”

Frank chuckles as if I’m the one to say something funny. Did he hear himself? “I will. Of course, I’ll kill him, but that’s not enough. I want him to trust someone as much as I trusted him back in the day. I want him to love and not be able to function without love, and then I want him to lose it all. I want him to suffer the same way I suffered.”

He’s serious. Until now, I thought, I hoped he was making fun of me. I try to understand his reasoning despite it making no sense, but I don’t know why he thinks I’m the person for the job. I know next to nothing about Dante Carrow. The fact he’s nine years older than me makes the task ahead even harder.

“Daddy, I’d love to help you. I really would, but I don’t know how. You know I’m the worst actress. I have no experience with men.”

“Exactly!” He claps once. “And that’s your biggest advantage.” He waves the waiter over to order more drinks.

I didn’t notice when my glass emptied. “My lack of acting skills is my biggest advantage?”

“No, your lack of experience is. I introduced Michael and Sam to you. You think I didn’t realize they weren’t straight? I’ve been thinking about all this for a long time, Layla. I know Dante better than anyone. I know what he’s looking for in a woman. I know what he’s attracted to, so I know he won’t be able to resist your innocence.”

I fold my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at him. “You knew about Sam and Michael? I wasted a year of my life with those two!”

“Calm down.” He takes my hand, squeezing lightly. “I had to. I trusted that when the time came, you’d help me, but before I could talk to you, I had to make sure you were growing up to be a woman Dante couldn’t resist.”

I can’t decide if I’m ashamed, sickened, or angry. My own father turned me into a freak show. He raised me like a pig for slaughter; controlled every aspect of my life to take revenge on a man who took half of the city from him.

Half.

Dante didn’t hurt him; he didn’t kill his family. He just works the territory that used to be under Frank’s command for a short while. A few square miles of land are enough for my father to sacrifice my best years for an abstract plan.

“I know you’re mad, baby girl, but I need your help.” He strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, staring into my eyes, sincerity shining in his. “I’m tired of this. I want to get rid of Dante and get to know you, but with Carrow in the picture, I can’t think about anything other than revenge.”

I glance at his hand resting on mine, trying to remember the last time he touched me. It’s been years. I miss the father he once was—never perfect, never acting like a regular dad, but present in my life. When Chicago split in half, he disappeared without a trace. He became distant.

Now he’s offering me a chance to get back what I had and maybe earn more. Maybe without Dante in the picture, with the whole of Chicago under Frank’s belt, he’ll be able to muster a little love for me.

I sigh but nod in agreement. If he believes this will work, he must have a reason. I don’t need to understand to follow his orders.

“I don’t know how to do it. He’ll see right through me.”

Frank rests against his chair with a fond smile. “Be yourself, Layla. You’re perfect. Sassy, intelligent, feisty. Don’t change. Don’t pretend to be someone you’re not.”

“How can you be sure he’ll like me? that he’ll look at me?”

“I’ve known him since he was fifteen. I know everything about him.”

I’m not convinced, but I’m ready to trust him. Fear mixes with excitement inside my head, filling me with stomach-churning anticipation. I want to do well. The prize is too tempting to pass on the opportunity. A few months with Frank’s enemy, a few months of pretending to love him isn’t a high price to pay if Frank is to be my father again for the rest of my life.