64

64
Emilia’s POV
I’d been in my room all day, wrapped up in the thick comforter like it could shield me from everything going on outside. The walls felt like they’re closing in, the silence so heavy it was almost oppressive. I haven’t eaten, haven’t moved much except to roll over and stare at a different spot on the ceiling. It was the kind of day where time felt elastic-every minute stretches out endlessly, but somehow, hours have slipped by.
It was very hard to get my thoughts straight. They were a tangled mess spinning around my head, refusing to settle. Everything felt different now, like the floor has shifted beneath my feet and I’m trying to find my balance again. I should have left the mansion-gone for a walk, cleared my head-but instead, I’ve just stayed here, letting the memories wash over me like waves crashing against a rocky shore.
I closed my eyes and my mind drifted back to the look on Alaric’s face when he confronted Dominic. It was a mask of cold fury, the kind that would make anyone’s blood run cold. But underneath it, I saw something else. Pain. Betrayal. It was so brief, just a flicker before he pushed it down, but it was there. And it had been haunting me ever since.
What kind of man would he be if he hadn’t been born into this life? It was a question I haven’t been able to stop asking myself. In those rare, quiet moments we’ve shared-when he lets his guard down, even just a little-I’ve caught glimpses of someone else. Someone softer, kinder. He’s not always the ruthless crime boss, at least not with me sometimes. Not when we’re alone and the world feels miles away.
I’ve seen it in the way he talks about Francesca, the gentleness in his voice when he mentions her, like she was the only pure thing he ever knew. I’ve seen it in the way he looks at me sometimes, when he thinks I’m not paying attention. There’s something there, something raw and unguarded, that made me think he could have been different if he’d been given the chance.
If Alaric had been born into a normal life-a simple life-he could have been the perfect guy. The kind of man who would make me breakfast on a lazy Sunday morning, who’d hold my hand at the movies, who’d argue with me about which show to binge-watch next. It’s almost laughable to imagine him like that, this big, intimidating figure doing something as mundane as grocery shopping. But it’s not impossible. I could picture it, and that’s what scared me.
Because that man doesn’t exist. He can’t. Not in this world.
I rolled over onto my side, hugging the pillow to my chest. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. It’s pointless. I knew what I was getting into when I started working for him. I knew who he was, what he did. The mafia isn’t a place for daydreams and fairytales. It’s a place for power, money, and survival. And Alaric? He’s at the top of that food chain because he’s ruthless, because he makes the hard decisions without hesitation.
And I’m okay with that. I have to be.
I sighed and pushed myself up to sit against the headboard, rubbing my eyes. There’s no use in romanticizing him, no matter how tempting it is. Alaric is a product of his environment, shaped by forces I can’t even begin to understand. His line of work is bloody, dangerous, and complicated, but it’s also the reason I’m here. The reason I get paid. The reason I have a roof over my head and a bank account that’s looking healthier than it ever has.
So why does it bother me sometimes?
It’s not like I haven’t seen worse. I’ve dealt with shady people before, been around violence and crime. It’s part of the job. But watching Alaric dole out that punishment, seeing the unflinching way he made that call-it’s different when it’s him. It’s different because I know there’s another side to him, and it’s hard to reconcile the two.
But then I reminded myself why I’m here. I’m not here to save him, to change him, or to mold him into some version of a man he was never meant to be. I’m here to do my job, to get my paycheck, and to leave when it’s all said and done. If I start letting his world get to me, I’ll lose sight of that.
It was starting to get dark. I should get up, get dressed, maybe head downstairs and see if there’s any food left in the kitchen. But I couldn’t bring myself to move yet. I pulled the comforter tighter around myself instead, as if it could cocoon me away from the reality I’ve chosen to live in.
I thought back to the conversation we had last night, the one that felt like it meant something, even if neither of us said much. Alaric had thanked me, in his own way, for standing by him. He’d even admitted that he needed me, though not in so many words. It was a small crack in the armor he keeps so carefully in place, and I’m still trying to figure out what it means.
I don’t know why it made my chest feel tight, why it felt like something was shifting between us. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. But the look in his eyes when he said it-like he was laying down a weapon he didn’t want to carry anymore-it made me feel… something. Something I don’t want to name.
“Get a grip, Emilia,” I muttered to myself, scrubbing a hand over my face. “You’re thinking too much.”
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I forced myself to stand up. I needed to shake this off. I’d been brooding for hours, and it was not helping. I couldn’t afford to get caught up in feelings, not when I’ve worked so hard to keep them at bay. I was here for a reason, and that reason isn’t Alaric’s tragic backstory or the potential for a life he’ll never have.
I made my way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. It shocked me back to the present, clearing the fog of nostalgia and what-ifs from my mind. I stared at my reflection, the girl in the mirror looking back at me with a steely determination I almost didn’t recognize a few minutes ago.
This is the life I chose. I knew what it meant when I took the job, when I stepped into this mansion, when I decided to stay even after everything went sideways. I don’t get to be bothered by the blood on his hands, not when I’ve accepted the money that comes from it. Not when I’m benefiting from it.
I wasn’t some damsel who needed saving, and Alaric wasn’t some tragic hero waiting for redemption. We are who we are-flawed, complicated, and maybe a little bit broken. But as long as I get my cut, as long as I can keep doing my job, it shouldn’t bother me.
And maybe, deep down, it doesn’t.
I took a deep breath and straightened my spine, feeling a little more like myself. There was no point in dwelling on what could have been. There was only the present, and right now, I’ve got a job to do. I wasn’t going to lose sleep over the fact that I’m tangled up in a life that isn’t squeaky clean.
I walked back into the room and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. I sent a quick message to Allesio, letting him know I’ll be downstairs soon. It was time to stop hiding away in my room, time to get back to work. Time to be the woman who doesn’t flinch at the darker parts of this world.
Because as long as I played my cards right, I’d be just fine. And that’s all that matters.