Love is a Game

Chapter 1 Lily

CHAPTER 1

LILY

Lily put on a classic rock song while she waited in the car for her best friend Mia. Her bestie had just barged into a mansion in San Francisco’s snootiest neighborhood. It was her in-laws house, and the place where Mia lived with her husband of only three months and his parents.

Less than a minute later, shouts arose from the house and flood lights went on, shining across the lawn. Mia raced out of the house, holding a suitcase and duffel bag. Her husband, Brady, ran after her, looking crazed.

Lily spotted two figures standing in the shadowy doorway. Those must be Brady’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Lucifer.

She cranked up the volume on “Highway to Hell,” which felt like an appropriate song for the occasion. After all, she was parked on the driveway that, according to Mia, led to a hellish home.

To be fair, Lily didn’t think her friend truly understood the meaning of the word hellish. Mia had led an easy life so far, doing what she wanted whenever she wanted. Mia lived her life to the fullest, never thinking about tomorrow, only living for the rush of the day. She both pitied and envied her friend for that trait. Lily could never be like that. She wasn’t wired or trained that way. Her mother had always taught her to look after herself, be independent, and never, ever, depend on someone else to give you what you want. It was a very Destiny’s Child, independent woman kind of thinking and so far it had served her well. She was majoring in business, had a small but diverse stock portfolio and was working her butt off as a barista to save up for her own place one day.

Mia yanked open the trunk and threw in her suitcase. By then, Brady had caught up to her. His hands were pressed deep into the pockets of his khaki chinos.

Once again Lily was reminded that they weren’t at the dorm they had shared anymore. Or at her mother’s house. Her stomach tightened as she thought of her mother. Lily had promised her she wouldn’t mourn her more than a day. Funny how her mother had even made that into a challenge, a negotiation between them. Even while lying on her death bed she had been looking out for her, trying to prevent Lily from being sucked into a pitch-black hole of grief and despair.

I promise, Mom. When I think of you, I will smile.

She forced her face into a soft smile and looked into the rearview mirror. Well, that looked more like a grimace than a smile, but she’d take it. It had only been three months; not nearly enough time for the pain of loss to settle in. Not that she believed it ever would.

Peeking again at the mirror, Lily could see Brady and Mia were really going at it.

Marriage is misery. The mother of all suffering.

Her parents' marriage had lasted even less than Mia's. She'd figured there was a reason her mom never mentioned her dad, or ‘the sperm donor,’ as Lily referred to the man in her head. She had only seen him three times in her life. Victor Grimaldi spent his time with his real family, not with his former side piece. The last time had been at her mother’s funeral, where his attendance had been a complete surprise. His presence was like a dark cloud looming over the beautiful, private service which had only a handful of mourners; colleagues of her mother’s from the coffee shop.

Every fiber of her being had wanted to kick him out, but Victor Grimaldi wasn’t someone to trifle with. He was connected, and definitely bad news. The bald man attached to his hip seemed equally bad news, the way he was sizing her up, staring at her breasts while she was literally burying the most important person in her life. It had been a disgusting experience, and she hoped she would never see either of them again.

She looked out the car window now, watching Brady slumping back to his house, his shoulders drooping.

The car door opened, and Mia dropped in next to her while wiping away her tears. “You were right. Men suck.”

Lily didn’t remind her that she’d never said those words, instead just letting her friend vent. Hating all men was basically step one after a breakup. Right before getting a haircut to celebrate the new you, going on a drink fest, and bingeing bad romantic comedies while eating too much ice cream.

“From now on I’m going to be a feminist nun, like you.”

“I’m not sure if the words ‘feminist’ and ‘nun’ go together,” Lily said as she pulled away from the curb. Then again, Mother Theresa had totally rocked because she’d forged her own path in a man’s world.

“And you know what the worst part is?”

Yeah, she did, since she’d already heard the story three times, but that wasn’t the right girl code response. “No. What?”

“It was that he cheated on me with that skank, Heather. The girl his parents would have chosen for him. The daughter of a banker.” She extended the last word into two extra-long syllables.

When you marry a spineless d**k like Brady who has lived off his trust fund his entire life, you really shouldn’t be surprised by the outcome.

“That sucks,” Lily said.

Brady’s parents had frozen out Mia from the get-go. Marrying a ‘half-blood,’ as Brady’s mother had once called Mia, who was half Indian, had been an act of rebellion. He had told Mia so, though she had been too much on cloud nine to understand the implications of it.

“I should’ve listened to you. I shouldn't have married that quickly.”

Lily kept her lips firmly zipped. Apparently, they had just entered the second phase of a bad break-up: the ‘should’ve, could’ve, would’ve’ stage. As with everything, Mia went through these stages fast.

“I…I don’t know where to go,” Mia confessed.

That didn’t surprise Lily since her friend was an ‘act first, think later’ kind of person.

“I’m taking you to my mom’s house.”

Mia gave her a glance from beneath her big, beautiful lashes. “Are you sure? I mean, I know you haven’t been there again after the funeral and…”

“It’s okay. You need somewhere to stay and Mom’s place has always been like a sanctuary. She would’ve offered it herself, if she were here.”

It wasn’t like she could simply take Mia to her dorm room to crash with her for a while. Dorm rooms never stayed empty for long. Also, there was the small matter of Lily feeling like she was being watched. It had been happening for weeks now. Creepy, spying eyes, who were watching her, though she could never spot them.

Once again she checked her rear-view mirror, but there was nothing there. Just the regular, slow evening traffic.

Mia gave her a look. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Lily said in as chipper a voice as she could muster.

“You seem a bit jumpy.” Mia narrowed her eyes, and Lily could almost feel how her friend was searching for a new drama to latch onto. Anything that would get her mind off her cheating husband would be welcome. It was simply how some people dealt with the shitty curve balls life threw at them.

Lily wasn’t one of those people. She had goals, dreams, and a promise to her mother to fulfill. There was no time for distractions or to indulge paranoid fears.

Mia put her feet onto the dashboard. “So, you hear from your dad yet?” Her eyes were closed and her tone was matter of fact.

Lily knew her friend was just making conversation, but a trickle of unease went down her spine nonetheless. It was as if Mia had smelled her anxiety and like a bloodhound, had located her pain point.

“Not really.”

Almond shaped eyes snapped open. “What does that mean? He didn’t contact you at all after your mother died? I mean, he did show up at the funeral, so I thought…” She continued her monologue on how worthless men were, how her father should have the decency to console her and ended with the fact that she was going to divorce Brady’s ass.

How she came back full circle to Brady again, Lily couldn’t follow, and she wasn’t going to try, either. Mia came from a big, loving family. To her, it was incomprehensible that a father would turn his back on his child. Mia didn’t understand the world her father belonged to, and Lily hoped she would never find out. It was a world filled with violence Lily’s mother had kept her away from, a world where a man could not choose his own wife without the blessing of the Family. The Family had made him annul his first marriage and deny his first daughter. A daughter he had only seen three times in his life, lastly at her mother’s funeral. And even then, he hadn’t come alone. He had a looming, sinister looking figure accompany him, just to show people he wasn’t a lone wolf.

She got off the freeway and took the road to her mom's house. All she wanted to do was take a hot shower and curl up on the couch. Her gaze went to the gold bracelet on her wrist. It had been her mother’s gift to her on her eighteenth birthday, and bore the inscription, Don’t collect things, collect people. It had been her mother’s mantra and Lily was doing her best to abide by it.

The sun had disappeared by the time Lily pulled into the driveway. The two-story building that housed the best memories of her life was painted in a beautiful mint green, and with a neat garden along one side. The picket fence was dotted with wildflowers in every color. An exotic smell, like a Caribbean summer in a bottle, wafted toward her when she opened the car door. It broke her heart to see this place, and yet it lifted her spirit at the same time. A part of her wished she hadn't moved out so she would have had more time with her mom, but her mother had insisted Lily would experience college life. That she would learn to stand on her own feet.

Mia got out and pulled her bags from the trunk. A chill went up her spine when Lily noticed the shadows beneath her feet were all wrong. Next to Mia’s shadow, there were two more. They were taller and made blotchy shapes that reminded her of crows.

She pivoted and came face-to-face with her father, and him, the bald creep from the funeral. Enzo—he’d introduced himself to her—was his right-hand man.

“What’s…Oh.” Mia finally caught on. Her bags dropped to the ground and she gave Lily a questioning look.

Lily had to hand it to her, Mia didn’t have a speck of fear in her eyes.

Her gaze went to the street, and she could kick herself for not noticing the black Mercedes with tinted windows parked in front of the house. Then she saw another one behind it. Of course, he would have a small army trailing after him. How could she have missed this? But would it have mattered? Her father had made it perfectly clear to her he would appear and disappear in her life whenever it pleased him. He hadn’t respected her wish to stay away from her during the sanctity of the funeral, and he wouldn’t do so now in front of her house.

Lily gave Mia a sharp look. “Why don’t you go inside?”

“I’m not going anywhere while—”

Her father’s eyes flashed. “I’m not going to hurt my own daughter, Miss Sharma.”

Lily’s chest tightened. He knew Mia’s name, her maiden name. How long had he been keeping an eye on them? For what purpose?

You know what for. You’re just in denial.

Mia gave her another questioning look. For all her drama, she was the kind of friend who had your back when the going went tough. And judging by the nasty smirk Enzo flashed at her, Lily knew this conversation was going to be tough. She knew what her father wanted, and no way in hell was she going along with it.

“I’ll be okay, Mia. Please go inside.” She gave her father a hard look. “This won’t take long.”

To her shock, Mia pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of her father and his henchman. “Just in case,” she said sweetly. After a final glare, she walked to the front door and went inside.

Enzo stepped forward. Her father held up his hand and Enzo stopped, though he pulled up his lip.

She was starting to get a stomachache. The anger in Enzo’s eyes promised retribution if he ever got his hands on Mia and her phone. Lily needed to get his attention off her, and fast.

“What can I do for you?” she asked in a voice as politely as she could manage.

Her father looked her up and down, from her worn sneakers to her jeans, and black, leather jacket. Judging by his tight lips, he didn’t like what he saw.

Her chin went up in defiance. This was who she was, and she’d be damned if she’d allow him to make her feel like less. She had never been to his house, never even been alone with him during those two times he had visited them, but she could imagine what his world looked like. It was filled with opulent mansions, expensive cars, handmade suits, and Italian shoes that cost what she made in a month. From what she had gathered, her father liked to collect both things and people. Though she doubted the people he collected were the kind her mother had meant.

“I need you to come home,” her father said.

Home. His words startled her. It was an exact replica of what he’d said to her at the funeral, and again it felt rehearsed. Little bolts of electricity, hot and sizzling, went up her spine at the audacity of his ridiculous statement. The man was a complete stranger to her. She didn’t understand his sudden interest in her life, nor did she want anything to do with him. The only thing they had in common was his last name, and surely this was because he couldn’t take it back once he’d filled in her birth certificate.

She pointed at her house. “That’s my home. My only home.”

“Not for long,” Enzo chimed in.

Her father snapped something in Italian at him.

For the first time in her life, she felt regret at not learning the language. Her mother had suggested it once, but she had refused. She didn’t want anything to do with it.

The way Enzo scanned her up and down made her fists clench. His proprietary gaze couldn’t be missed. Not even her father could overlook it. Something wasn’t right. She went over a list of possibilities in her head why her father suddenly showed an interest in her life but came up blank. Her mother had left behind a house, which was paid for, but that was all. It was nothing compared to what her father owned. So, it wasn’t that.

She took a step back. Her eyes studied the empty street. Suddenly she realized how vulnerable she was standing there alone with them. It would be so easy for them to force her into a car and take her with them.

Her father’s eyes narrowed. For a second a hint of regret seemed to cross his face, but it was so fleeting, she thought she must have imagined it.

“I won’t ask again,” he said.

She didn’t miss the warning in his tone. She also didn’t remind him that he had never asked her anything in the first place. No, Victor Grimaldi was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted, and he had a small army to back him up.

“Good,” she said as she walked toward the house. Mia had let the door stand open. “Because my answer won’t change. You are not my father. Your house will never be my home.”

Then she slammed the door in his face.