65

65
Alaric’s POV
The sun was just beginning to set and I could hear the murmur of voices from the kitchen, where Allesio was going over the latest shipment logs with our suppliers. I stood by the window in my office, watching the sky darken each passing second as I took a slow sip of whiskey, savoring the burn. The house felt strangely calm tonight, despite everything that had happened over the past few weeks.
I needed that calm, even if it was just an illusion. Too much had gone down the drain recently, and I could feel the tension coiling beneath the surface. It was only a matter of time before something snapped.
A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Only one person knocks with that specific kind of confidence, like he owns the place.
“Come in, Guiseppe,” I called out, nearly rolling my eyes as I set my glass down on the table.
The door swung open, and Guiseppe walked in, his sharp gaze sweeping the room before it settled on me.
“Alaric,” he greeted, his voice smooth, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He stepped inside and glanced around, like he was taking stock of the changes since the last time he was here. “It’s been a while.”
“Not that long,” I replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. “What brings you by tonight?”
He didn’t sit, though. Instead, he stepped closer to the window, glancing out into the backyard where Francesca and Emilia were. I couldn’t see them from where I stood, but I could hear Francesca’s laughter.
“You have a nice home,” Guiseppe said, his tone casual. “It’s good for the girl, I think. Francesca looks happier every time I see her.”
I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. I wasn’t liking where the conversation was going. “She’s adjusting well.”
His eyes flicked toward me, sharp and calculating. “And Emilia is a big part of that, isn’t she?”
I stiffened, sensing where this conversation was headed. I knew Guiseppe was a straight forward man. He got to the point quickly, like a snake striking. And I wasn’t sure what point he was trying to make this time.
“Emilia’s been good for Francesca,” I admitted. It wasn’t a lie. Francesca adored her.
“She’s been calling her mommy,” Guiseppe said, and there it was. The trap.
I kept my expression neutral, trying to contain the irritation I was feeling. “Kids say a lot of things.”
“She does,” he agreed, turning to face me fully now. “But it’s not just once or twice. It’s every time I’ve been here lately. Your daughter calls her mommy, Alaric.”
I clenched my jaw, leaning back against the desk. “What’s your point, Guiseppe?”
“My point,” he said, stepping closer, his smile fading into something more serious, “is that it makes you look weak. You know how this looks to everyone else, don’t you?”
“I don’t care how it looks,” I shot back, my voice colder now. “It’s none of their business who Francesca decides to call mommy.”
He tilted his head, studying me with that knowing look of his. “You’re smarter than that. You know it matters. It matters to the men who follow you, the ones who look to you as their leader. It matters to the allies who need to know you’re in control of your own household. A child calling someone ‘mommy’ who isn’t related to you or her in any way-it’s a sign of instability.”
“Instability,” I repeated, the word tasting bitter in my mouth. “And what do you suggest I do about it, then?”
He spread his hands, like it was the most obvious solution in the world. “Either you get rid of Emilia, or you marry her.”
I laughed, the sound harsh and humorless. Fucking bastard. I should have known this was where he was driving at. “You think it’s that simple?”
“I think it’s necessary,” Guiseppe said, his tone unwavering. “You’ve avoided marriage for years, Alaric. Everyone knows it. They’ve all talked about it behind your back-about why you refuse to settle down. But now, with this woman living in your house, acting like a mother to your daughter, it’s sending a message. It’s saying you’re not in control, that you’ve let an outsider into your family.”
I felt a spike of anger flare up, but I forced myself to breathe through it. The bastard was trying to manipulate me. He was pushing this narrative because it served his interests-because he’d been one of the loudest voices urging me to marry for years. This was just another angle, another way to back me into a corner till I agree to that.
“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?” I asked quietly, stepping closer to him. “You think I don’t know why you’re pushing this?”
He didn’t flinch, meeting my gaze head-on. “I’m pushing it because it’s the truth, Alaric. You need stability. Your organization needs stability. And this… situation with Emilia? It’s making you look weak.”
I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to punch something-or him-to release the frustration boiling inside me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I do,” he insisted. “You either get rid of her, or you make her part of the family. There’s no in-between. If you keep her around like this, it’s only going to get worse.”
I turned away, raking a hand through my hair. It was easier than looking at him, easier than acknowledging the uncomfortable truth in his words. I didn’t want to marry Emilia. I couldn’t marry a woman I had no real feelings for. Sure, I respected her. Hell, I even liked her most of the time. But marriage? That was different. That was permanent. And it wasn’t something I’d ever intended to do out of convenience or pressure.
But I also couldn’t deny the fact that Francesca had grown attached to her, that she looked to Emilia like a mother now. And the thought of taking that away from her-of removing the one woman who’d brought light back into her life-made my stomach twist.
“I’m not marrying her,” I said finally, my voice low but firm. “And I’m not getting rid of her.”
Guiseppe’s expression shifted, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. “You’re making a mistake, Alaric.”
“Maybe,” I snapped, turning back to face him. “But it’s my mistake to make. Not yours.” I flashed him a cold smile.
He held my gaze for a long moment, the silence stretching out between us like a taut wire. Finally, he sighed and took a step back, like he was conceding the argument for now. But I knew Guiseppe well enough to know this wasn’t over. He’d keep bringing it up until I was finally married.
“You’ve always been stubborn,” he said quietly, almost like an afterthought. “But remember this, Alaric-you can’t have it both ways. You can’t let her play the role of mother and not make her part of the family. It’ll only end in chaos.”
I didn’t respond, just watched as he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating.
I poured another glass of whiskey and stared out the window, watching as the sun finally disappeared from the sky. I knew Guiseppe was right about one thing-this situation with Emilia was complicated. More complicated than I wanted to admit. But I’d be damned if I let anyone, even someone as close as Guiseppe, dictate my decisions.
I downed the whiskey in one gulp, the liquid burning a path down my throat. Whatever happened next, it would be on my terms. And if that meant going against everyone’s expectations, then so be it. I wasn’t about to let anyone back me into a corner. Not Guiseppe, not the council, and not even Emilia herself.
I poured another glass of whiskey for myself, taking a sip of it before I threw the glass cup. It hit the wall and then shattered into a million pieces dropping on the floor. I needed a break from everyone trying to dictate what I do and don’t.