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66
Emilia’s POV
I watched Francesca dart ahead of us, her curls bouncing as she ran toward the playground. She was all energy and excitement, a bundle of joy that seemed to radiate life in a way that made it impossible not to smile.
Alaric walked beside me, his hands in his pockets, looking out of place in his casual clothes. He was dressed in dark jeans and a simple black t-shirt that somehow made him look even more intimidating than his usual suits. He hadn’t said much since we left the house, but that was typical of him.
“Francesca,” he called, his voice softer than usual. “Don’t go too far.”
She turned and gave him a thumbs-up before resuming her sprint toward the swings. I smiled at her enthusiasm, feeling a rush of warmth. This was a side of her I didn’t get to see often-a carefree child, just enjoying a day out with her dad.
“She’s going to run herself out in the first ten minutes,” I said lightly, glancing over at Alaric.
He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Probably,” he muttered, his eyes following her every move. His gaze was a mixture of love and worry that made my heart clench. I knew how hard it was for him to let go, even for a moment, even here in the safety of the park.
“She’ll be fine,” I said, trying to reassure him.
He looked at me, his expression softening for just a second. “I know,” he said, almost to himself.
We reached the swings, and Francesca was already clambering onto one, kicking her legs impatiently. “Push me, Emilia!” she called, her voice full of laughter.
I stepped forward and gave her a gentle push and watching as she soared high. Alaric stood back, his hands still in his pockets, watching us with a distant look in his eyes.
“You could push her, you know,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at him.
He shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “She prefers it when you do it.”
I felt a flutter in my chest at his words. It was rare for Alaric to acknowledge that he wasn’t everything to Francesca, that there were parts of her life he couldn’t touch. It made me see him in a new light, made me realize how much he was trying, even if he didn’t always know how.
“She loves you,” I said softly, giving Francesca another push. “You’re her hero, Alaric.”
He didn’t respond right away. When he did, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “I’m not sure I deserve that.”
I turned to face him, frowning. “Why would you say that?”
He met my gaze, and for a moment, I saw something raw and vulnerable in his eyes, something he usually kept hidden away. “Because I’m not the kind of man a little girl should look up to,” he said simply.
“You’re her father,” I said firmly. “That’s all that matters. You’re doing the best you can.”
He looked away, his jaw tightening. I could tell he wanted to argue, to push back against my words, but he stayed silent. Instead, he stepped forward and crouched down next to Francesca as she swung back toward us, catching the chains in his hands to slow her down.
“Let’s take a break, little one,” he said, his voice gentle. “You’re going to wear yourself out.”
Francesca pouted but hopped off the swing, taking Alaric’s hand and pulling him toward the jungle gym. “Come on, Daddy! I want to show you the slide!”
I watched them go, my heart clenching really really hard. There was something almost surreal about seeing Alaric here, so out of his element, yet trying so so hard. It made me wonder yet again what kind of man he might have been if he hadn’t been born into the mafia, if he’d had a different life, a different path. Would he still carry the same weight on his shoulders? Would he still be so guarded, so hard to read?
I followed them to the jungle gym, leaning against one of the nearby benches as I watched Francesca lead Alaric up the steps. Her tiny hand gripped his, and she tugged him along like she had complete confidence he’d catch her if she slipped. It was a sweet image, the kind of moment I wished I could freeze in time. Alaric looked almost boyish for a second, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips as Francesca chattered on, pointing out every feature of the play structure like it was her personal kingdom.
“Look, Daddy! This is the slide! It’s really fast!” she declared.
Alaric glanced at the slide, then back at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice teasing.
She nodded enthusiastically, already climbing up to the top. “Watch me!”
He stepped back, giving her room as she threw herself down the slide with wild abandon. She landed in a heap of giggles at the bottom, her curls a tangled mess. Alaric chuckled, the sound catching me by surprise.
“Again!” Francesca shouted, running back up the steps.
I couldn’t hold back a smile as I watched them. There was something about seeing Alaric here, in the park, with a smile on his face that felt… normal. It was a glimpse into a life that could have been, one where he wasn’t burdened by the expectations of leading and making decisions for his family or the weight of being a mafia don. For a moment, I could imagine him as just a father spending time with his daughter, without the constant shadow of danger hanging over them.
But I knew better than to get lost in that fantasy. It was just a moment, and moments like these were fleeting. The reality was that Alaric was who he was-cunning, calculating, always three steps ahead of everyone else. He wasn’t a man who lived in the light. He thrived in the shadows, and expecting anything else was a dangerous game. And I wouldn’t be surprised if this was just another one of his games.
“Emilia!” Francesca called out to me, pulling me from my thoughts. “You have to go down the slide too!”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh no, I’m much too old for that.”
Francesca frowned, crossing her arms in a dramatic display of disappointment. “No, you’re not! Please?”
I hesitated, glancing at Alaric. He looked amused, watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow. There was a challenge in his gaze, like he was daring me to join in. I rolled my eyes playfully and gave in, walking over to the ladder.
“Fine,” I said, climbing up. “But only once.”
Francesca cheered as I slid down, and when I landed at the bottom, she clapped her hands like I’d just performed a grand trick. Alaric smirked, offering me his hand to help me up. I took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine, and for a brief second, our eyes met. And I could have sworn I felt a spark deep inside my chest.
“Not bad,” he said, his voice low and teasing.
I smirked back. “I’ve still got it.”
Francesca jumped up, wrapping her arms around both of our legs in a makeshift group hug. “You guys are so fun!” she declared, looking up at us with pure adoration.
The words hit me harder than they should have. I glanced at Alaric, and he seemed equally taken aback, his expression faltering for a split second before he masked it again. He looked away, clearing his throat.