247

247
Alaric’s POV
The moment Emilia walked my office with that innocent look she always had whenever she was about to request for something I wouldn’t like, I instantly knew what she wanted to talk about.
Alonso.
“We’ve been through this before Emilia. And my answer remains the same.” I said flatly, cutting her off before she could say anything at all. “No.”
Her brows knit together, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You didn’t even hear me out.”
“I don’t need to,” I said, pushing back from the table and standing. “Anything involving Alonso is a bad idea. The man’s a snake. End of discussion.”
“Alaric, please,” Emilia said, following me as I paced toward the window. “He wants to meet for dinner. To talk. That’s all.”
I turned sharply, facing her. “And you believe him? After everything he’s done?”
Her gaze didn’t waver, her stubbornness shining through like it always did when she thought she was right. “I think it’s worth a try. If there’s even a chance we can stop all this fighting, isn’t it worth hearing him out?”
I laughed bitterly, running a hand through my hair. “You don’t know Alonso like I do, Emilia. He doesn’t ‘talk.’ He manipulates. He sets traps. This isn’t a peace offering-it’s bait.”
“Maybe it is,” she admitted, her voice soft but firm. “But we won’t know unless we go.”
“And walk right into whatever scheme he’s cooked up? No thanks,” I shot back, crossing my arms.
She sighed, stepping closer. “Alaric, I know you don’t trust him. I don’t trust him either. But what if this is a genuine attempt to make peace? Don’t you think we owe it to ourselves-to everyone-to find out?”
I stared at her, torn between frustration and admiration. She was too good for this world. Too hopeful, too willing to see the best in people. It was one of the things I loved about her, but right now, it felt like a fucking liability.
“You don’t owe him shit,” I said, my voice softening despite myself.
“This isn’t about owing him,” she said, her eyes searching mine. “It’s about trying to find a way forward. For us. For everyone caught in the middle of this feud. Please, Alaric. Let me mediate. I’ll keep things civil, I promise.”
I considered hr words in annoyance. I hated the idea of sitting across from Alonso, of pretending civility with a man I wanted to destroy. But the look in Emilia’s eyes-the hope-I couldn’t say no to that.
“You really think this will accomplish anything?” I asked, my tone skeptical but less harsh.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But we won’t know unless we try.”
I let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Fine. But the moment he steps out of line-”
“I’ll handle it,” she said quickly, cutting me off before I could finish.
I shook my head, already regretting my decision. “This is a bad idea.”
The dinner was tonight, and my unease had only grown. I tried to shake it off, to tell myself it was just paranoia, but deep down, I knew better. Alonso Cruz wasn’t the kind of man you trusted, not even for a second.
Emilia was quiet during the drive, her hands folded neatly in her lap. I could tell she was nervous, though she hid it well.
“You sure about this?” I asked, glancing at her as I steered the car onto the highway.
She met my gaze, her expression calm but it was obvious she wasn’t goi g to change her mind. “I am. Are you?”
“No,” I said bluntly.
Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “At least you’re honest.”
I grunted in response, turning my attention back to the road.
When we arrived at the restaurant, my unease had risen up another notch. It was a nice enough place, neutral territory like Alonso had promised, but that didn’t put me at ease. Neutrality meant nothing when you were dealing with a man like him.
We were shown to a private table in the back, where Alonso was already seated. He stood as we approached, his smile warm and practiced.
“Alaric. Emilia. Thank you for coming,” he said, his tone as smooth as ever.
I didn’t bother with pleasantries, taking my seat with a glare that I didn’t bother to hide. Emilia, ever the diplomat, offered a polite nod as she sat beside me.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I said before Alonso could start his usual song and dance. “I’m only here because Emilia insisted. Don’t think for a second that I trust you.”
Alonso chuckled, unbothered by my hostility. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Alaric. But I’m glad you’re here nonetheless.”
“Let’s skip the niceties,” I said sharply. “What do you want?”
“Peace,” Alonso said simply, spreading his hands as if to emphasize his sincerity.
I snorted. “Peace? From you? That’s rich.”
“Believe it or not, it’s the truth,” Alonso said, his tone calm but firm. “This feud between our families-it’s gone on long enough. I think we can both agree that it’s been costly for everyone involved.”
“You think you can just wave a white flag and we’ll forget everything you’ve done?” I asked, my voice laced with contempt.
“I’m not asking you to forget,” Alonso said. “I’m asking you to consider a different path. One that doesn’t lead to more bloodshed.”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “And what’s in it for you?”
Alonso smiled faintly. “A chance to rebuild. To move forward. Isn’t that what we all want?”
I narrowed my eyes, searching his face for any hint of deception. But Alonso was a master manipulator; his mask of sincerity was flawless.
Emilia cleared her throat, breaking the tense silence. “What exactly are you proposing, Alonso?”
“A truce,” he said simply. “An end to hostilities. No more attacks, no more sabotage. We focus on rebuilding our respective businesses and lives without interference from one another.”
“And you expect us to just take your word for it?” I asked, my tone dripping with skepticism.
“No,” Alonso admitted, his gaze meeting mine. “But I’m willing to negotiate terms. Something mutually beneficial.”
I glanced at Emilia, who was watching Alonso with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
“What kind of terms?” she asked, her voice measured.
“That’s something we can discuss,” Alonso said. “But I’m willing to make concessions to prove my sincerity.”
I laughed, the sound bitter and humorless. “Sincerity? From you? That’s a joke.”
“Alaric,” Emilia said softly, placing a hand on my arm.
I glanced at her, her touch calming me for a moment. But it didn’t erase the anger simmering just beneath the surface.
“I don’t trust you, Alonso,” I said, turning back to him. “And I never will.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Alonso said, his tone unbothered. “But trust isn’t necessary for this to work. Only cooperation.”
“Cooperation,” I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.
Emilia’s hand tightened slightly on my arm. “Alaric, maybe we should hear him out.”
I stared at her, frustration bubbling up inside me. But the look in her eyes-the quiet plea for me to try-made it impossible to argue.
“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “We’ll hear him out. But don’t think for a second that I’m letting my guard down.”
“That’s all I ask,” Alonso said, his smile widening slightly. I reached for my gun instantly. A smile like that only meant mischief.