201

201
Emilia’s POV
The house was unusually quiet when I stepped through the front door, the familiar scent of leather and polished wood greeting me like an old friend. My body ached from the stress of the day, and my mind was still reeling from everything Alonso had said. But as my gaze swept the empty entryway, I felt a pang of longing-for the comfort of this home, for Francesca’s sweet voice, and, yes, even for Alaric’s brooding presence.
I hadn’t even taken a step toward the living room when I heard the unmistakable sound of Francesca’s laughter floating down the hallway. It was light and unburdened, and it felt like a balm on my frayed nerves.
I followed it, my footsteps soft against the tiled floor, and found them in the sunroom. Francesca was perched on Alaric’s lap, her tiny hands clutching one of his much larger ones as she giggled at something he’d said. Alaric, for his part, looked almost relaxed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The sight made my heart twist. This was the side of Alaric that few people ever got to see-the protective, loving man who would do anything for the people he cared about.
“Again, Daddy!” Francesca demanded, bouncing slightly.
He chuckled, a rare sound that made me pause in the doorway. “You’re a little tyrant, you know that?”
Francesca tilted her head, her curls bouncing as she pouted. “What’s a tyrant?”
“Someone who bosses people around,” he explained, poking her nose gently.
Her pout deepened. “I don’t boss you around.”
“Really?” he said, arching a brow. “What about five minutes ago when you told me I wasn’t allowed to get up until you finished your drawing?”
“That’s not bossing,” she said, giggling again. “That’s… that’s making rules.”
“Ah, I see,” he said, his tone mock-serious. “Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind next time you’re in charge.”
Their exchange brought a smile to my lips despite the heaviness in my chest. For a moment, I just stood there, watching them. Francesca’s innocence was like a bright light, cutting through the shadows that seemed to follow us everywhere.
But eventually, she turned her head and spotted me. Her face lit up. “Mommy!”
She slid off Alaric’s lap and ran toward me, her arms outstretched. I knelt down to catch her, holding her tightly as she wrapped her arms around my neck.
“Hi, sweet girl,” I said softly, kissing the top of her head.
“You’re home!” she said, pulling back to look at me with wide, excited eyes. “Where did you go? Daddy said you had to do something important, but he wouldn’t tell me what.”
I glanced up at Alaric, who was now standing, his arms crossed as he watched us with an unreadable expression.
“It was important,” I said carefully, turning my attention back to Francesca. “But I’m back now, and I missed you so much.”
She beamed, her earlier question forgotten as she leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Daddy was worried about you.”
“Was he?” I asked, my eyes flicking to him again. His expression didn’t waver, but there was a tension in his posture that hadn’t been there before.
Francesca nodded. “He kept looking at the clock and muttering things. But he wouldn’t tell me what he was thinking.”
“I wasn’t muttering,” Alaric said, his voice low but amused as he stepped closer.
“Yes, you were!” Francesca insisted, turning to face him with her hands on her hips. “You said, ‘Where is she? This is taking too long.'”
I bit back a smile, though my heart softened at her words. “It’s okay, Francesca,” I said, gently redirecting her attention. “I’m here now, and everything’s fine.”
Alaric’s jaw tightened, and he took another step forward. “Francesca, why don’t you go wash your hands for dinner? Emilia and I need to talk.”
She hesitated, looking between us. “Are you going to fight?”
“No,” I said quickly, brushing a curl away from her face. “We just need to talk about boring grown-up things. Nothing for you to worry about.”
She seemed satisfied with that and gave me one last hug before skipping out of the room.
The moment she was gone, Alaric’s eyes locked on mine. His relief was obvious, but so was the simmering anger just beneath the surface.
“You’re late,” he said, his voice low and steady in a way that only made it more dangerous.
“I know,” I replied, standing my ground. “I had things to discuss with Alonso. Important things.”
“And you couldn’t have told me you were on your way back?” he demanded, his voice rising slightly.
“I didn’t want to risk anyone intercepting the call,” I said, my tone calm but firm. “I knew you’d worry, I’m sorry I told your men to not call you to. I couldn’t risk intercepting the call. Plus your men were with me. Nothing would have happened.”
His hands curled into fists at his sides. “That’s not the point, Emilia. You’re walking into a lion’s den every time you go there, and I’m supposed to just sit here and hope you come back in one piece?”
“I’m not asking you to sit and hope,” I said, my voice rising to match his. “I’m asking you to trust me. To trust that I know what I’m doing.”
He took a step closer, his eyes blazing. “And what happens when Alonso decides he doesn’t want to let you go next time? What happens when you’re not as lucky as you were today?”
I stared at him, my frustration bubbling over. “I can’t live my life in fear of what might happen. I’m trying to get answers, Alaric. For myself, for Francesca, for all of us. If you can’t understand that-”
“I understand just fine,” he interrupted, his voice cold now. “I understand that every time you walk out that door, I’m left wondering if I’ll ever see you again.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. The anger in his eyes softened, replaced by something raw and vulnerable.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” I said quietly, taking a step closer. “But I need to do this, Alaric. I need to find out the truth.”
He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a shaky breath. When he opened them again, the fire had dimmed, but the tension between us remained.
“I don’t like this,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I don’t like any of it. But I can’t stop you, can I?”
“No,” I said softly. “You can’t.”
His shoulders sagged slightly, and he reached up to run a hand through his hair. “Just promise me one thing, Emilia. Promise me you won’t shut me out. If you’re going to keep doing this, let me help you. Let me be there for you.”
I nodded, the weight of his words settling over me. “I promise.”
He studied me for a long moment, then sighed. “Francesca’s right. I was worried about you. And I hate that she noticed.”
A small smile tugged at my lips. “She’s observant. It’s one of the things I love about her.”
He shook his head, a faint smirk breaking through his frustration. “She’s too smart for her own good.”
As we stood there, the tension between us easing slightly, I realized what I’d been blind to all this while. Alaric wasn’t just angry about Alonso or the risks I was taking. It was also about his fear. His fear of losing me. Of losing us.
And as much as I hated the fights, as much as I hated the weight of all the secrets and danger hanging over us, I couldn’t deny one thing: I loved him for it. For caring enough to fight with me, to worry about me, to want to protect me even when I didn’t want to be protected.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” I said softly, reaching out to take his hand.
He looked down at our joined hands, his expression softening. “Just don’t do it again,” he muttered.
I smiled faintly. “No promises.”
He rolled his eyes but pulled me into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around me like a shield. And for the first time all day, I felt truly safe.