Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

“What did you come here for, Anderson? So far, you haven’t actually
said.”
“The video speaks for itself, no?”
“I see you fucking my oldest daughter in my house, even though she’s
been engaged to someone since her conception.”
My blood boils at the thought of another man’s hands on her soft, supple
flesh, his lips on hers, his DNA where mine first ventured. Curling my hand
around the glass, I squeeze until my fingers numb, tempering my reaction.
Knowing I can’t afford to lose control.
“Well, we all know fidelity isn’t exactly a Ricci strong suit.”
His jaw tics, but he doesn’t take the bait. Perhaps because he isn’t sure
whose affair I’m referring to—his or his wife’s. Or perhaps because it doesn’t
really matter, since rebutting my claim won’t make it any less true.
“Elena is not like the rest of us,” he says, glancing at the framed picture
of her on the corner of his desk. In it, she wears her high school cap and
gown and lays in a field of flowers, with the Fontbonne Academy in the
foreground.
The picture of scholastic success, although she likely knew even then that
her dreams of higher education and a career would be short lived.
Hard to pursue personal interests when your livelihood depends on
whether you adhere to certain duties.
Though that didn’t stop her from pursuing me.
Shrugging, I lean forward and set my tumbler on the wood surface,
reaching into my trench coat pocket for the letter tucked inside. Pulling it out,
I smooth it down over my pant leg, and hold it up for him to see.
“Doesn’t matter if she’s worse. This is a letter I received at the home I
rent across town,” I say. “Not mailed, or taped to the free clinic I used to
work at. It was slipped directly through the mail slot in the front door of the
home, meaning—”
“Whoever delivered it wanted to send a message.” Rafe rubs at his chin
with the heel of his hand, scanning the page. “You don’t have to fucking
explain to me how blackmail works, Kal.”
Slapping the letter down, I slide it in his direction. “Great. So, then I also
don’t need to explain that if they’re not afraid of approaching me, they
certainly won’t hesitate to accost Elena.”
“I like to think my name holds a lot more weight in Boston than yours,”
he says.