90

90
Allesio’s POV
The realization had hit me like a punch to the gut. Emilia had a friend born into the mafia world-a world she claimed to despise, a world she pretended she wanted no part of. And she never said a damn thing about it.
“Did you know?” I asked Alaric as we walked back into the study, the tension still thick in the air.
He shook his head, his expression just as puzzled as mine. “No, but I should’ve. I don’t like surprises, Allesio, and this one doesn’t sit well.”
We didn’t talk for a moment. The weight of Rosa’s presence-her name, her bloodline-hung in the space between us. Romano Smith wasn’t just another name; he was a name that commanded respect and instilled fear in equal measure. That Emilia had someone like Rosa in her inner circle raised more questions than either of us were comfortable with.
“She’s dangerous,” I finally said, breaking the silence.
“And clever,” Alaric added, his voice low. “We need to keep her close.”
I frowned, already guessing where this was headed. “Close how?”
Alaric turned to me, his eyes sharp. “Invite her to dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes. I want to get a better read on her. If she’s teaching Emilia things-like how to shoot a gun, for example-then I need to know what else she’s been passing along.”
That stopped me short. “Teaching her to shoot?”
Alaric nodded. “Emilia mentioned it in passing. It was that day the Nightshade syndicate laid a trap for us and Emilia was so damned good at it. She didn’t want to say who taught her at first but she later told me it was her best friend who taught her. Apparently, Rosa is the one who gave her the basics. Don’t you think that’s something we should’ve known?”
It was. And the fact that we didn’t made my blood boil. How could Emilia have hidden something so significant?
“Fine,” I said, my jaw tightening. “We’ll have dinner. But this isn’t just about feeling her out, is it? You’re trying to send a message.”
He gave me a small, humorless smile. “Always.”
When dinner went on, the tension in the air was almost tangible. Rosa sat at the long dining table like she owned the room, her demeanor calm, collected, and far too poised for my liking. Francesca was there too, her cheerful chatter the only thing cutting through the awkward silence.
Emilia, for her part, looked like she was walking a tightrope. She kept glancing between Rosa, Alaric, and me, her eyes betraying her nervousness even as she tried to act normal.
Rosa ate without any care in the world, divulging and entertaining Francesca’s curiousity at all the questions she was asking. I could tell Emilia’s mind wasn’t here. And all I could even think of right now was that this woman was a far cry from the submissive woman I had been with that night.
And it surprised me. I couldn’t find any trace of that submissiveness in her at all. Only boldness and danger.
“So,” Alaric began, his voice smooth but loaded with intent, “Rosa, how long have you and Emilia known each other?”
Rosa set down her glass, her lips curling into a small smile. “Since we were kids. We met in school.”
“Before or after your father decided to expand his influence to this city?” Alaric asked casually, but the reason behind his question wasn’t lost on anyone.
“Before,” Rosa replied easily. “We were just two girls trying to survive math class.”
Emilia shot Alaric a look, clearly annoyed. “Is this necessary?”
“Yes,” Alaric said without missing a beat. “If Rosa is important to you, then she’s important to us.”
Rosa leaned back in her chair, looking entirely unbothered. “I didn’t realize I was under investigation. Should I start preparing answers for your next set of questions?”
I almost smiled at her boldness, but I caught myself. This wasn’t the time for amusement.
“No investigation,” Alaric said smoothly. “Just curiosity. You taught Emilia to shoot?”
At that, Francesca perked up. “Mommy can shoot?!”
Rosa laughed softly, ignoring the way Alaric’s gaze sharpened. “She can hold her own, yes. But don’t worry, Alaric. I didn’t teach her anything she didn’t want to learn.”
“That’s not comforting,” I muttered, earning a glare from Emilia.
“Enough,” Emilia snapped. “This dinner was supposed to be about catching up, not interrogating my friend.”
“Catching up, sure,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “But it’s a little hard to ignore the fact that your ‘friend’ comes from a family that could rival ours. You didn’t think to mention that?”
Emilia’s eyes narrowed. “Because it didn’t matter. Rosa is my friend, not her father. You of all people should understand that.”
The implication wasn’t lost on me, and for a moment, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence.
Francesca, oblivious to the tension, looked at Rosa with wide eyes. “Can you teach me to shoot too?”
“No!” Emilia and I said in unison, which made Rosa laugh.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Rosa said, ruffling Francesca’s hair. “That’s a lesson for when you’re much, much older.”
Alaric took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving Rosa. “You’re loyal to Emilia, then?”
“To a fault,” Rosa replied without hesitation.
“And what happens if loyalty to her conflicts with loyalty to your family?”
Rosa’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes darkened. “That depends on who’s causing the conflict.”
It was a dangerous answer, but one that Alaric seemed to respect. He nodded slightly, finally turning his attention back to his plate.
The rest of dinner was quieter, though the tension never fully dissipated. Francesca kept the mood light as best she could, asking Rosa all sorts of questions about her life and her travels. Rosa handled them with grace, her charm slowly disarming even me.
But as the night wore on, I realized something else that made me uneasy. Rosa wasn’t just another guest in this house.
She was a wildcard.
And wildcards were dangerous.