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Alaric’s POV
The moment Alonso let his smile fade, I knew the conversation was about to turn. His charm was thin, like the slick veneer on cheap furniture, cracking at the first sign of pressure. And I had no interest in giving him the satisfaction of thinking he could control the room.
I knew he knew Emilia and I were engaged. Word travels fast in the mafia world. I was just waiting for when he’d mention it. But Emilia beat him to it.
He swirled his glass of red wine, watching the liquid as though it held the secrets of the universe. “You know, Emilia,” he continued, his voice smooth as silk, “there are certain… expectations for someone in your position. Responsibilities.”
I felt Emilia stiffen beside me, her back straightening as her fingers hovered near her glass. I knew that tone of his. The carefully crafted words designed to put her on edge.
“Responsibilities?” she echoed, keeping her voice polite. Always the peacemaker. I wondered how she was able to keep up with the facade while I was barely able to keep myself from punching the bastard in the face.
Alonso leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table like we were having an intimate, friendly chat. “You’re a bright, intelligent woman. You’re my daughter. You could do so much good in this world-if you weren’t… distracted.”
I didn’t need to ask what he meant. My jaw clenched so tightly I thought I’d crack a tooth.
“Distracted?” Emilia asked, arching an eyebrow. Her tone was calm, but there was a sharpness beneath it.
Alonso smiled, like a teacher pleased his student had asked the right question. “By your… involvement with Alaric,” he said, waving his hand toward me as if I were an afterthought. “It’s not exactly conducive to the kind of influence you could have.”
It took everything I had not to lunge across the table. I forced a laugh instead, low and cold. “Ah, there it is. I was wondering when you’d get to the part where you try to undermine me.”
Alonso’s gaze flicked to me, his smile unshaken. “This isn’t about you, Alaric. It’s about what’s best for Emilia. My daughter. Sometimes, being close to certain… elements can limit a person’s potential.”
“Certain elements?” I repeated, my voice a quiet growl. “Careful, Alonso. You’re starting to sound like a jealous ex.”
“Alaric,” Emilia said softly, her hand brushing against my arm in warning.
But I wasn’t about to let this slide. Not when he was sitting here, pretending to be some benevolent, concerned party, after everything he’d done.
“Let me get this straight,” I said, leaning forward to meet his gaze. “You, of all people, think you have the right to comment on what’s best for Emilia?”
Alonso’s smile faltered, just for a second. “I’m speaking from experience,” he said, his tone still maddeningly calm. “And she’s my daughter. I have the right to be worried for her.”
“Experience?” I scoffed, my voice dripping with disdain. “You mean like the time you kidnapped her? Is that the kind of experience you’re referring to?”
Emilia flinched beside me, and I hated that I’d brought it up, but I wasn’t about to let him rewrite history.
Alonso’s expression hardened, the cracks in his facade finally showing. “That’s in the past,” he said coolly. “And I’ve made amends.”
“Amends?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You think a few empty words and a fake smile erase what you did? You put her life in danger, Alonso. You don’t get to sit there and act like you have her best interests at heart.”
“Alaric-” Emilia began, but I wasn’t done.
“You’ve proven, time and time again, that you’ll do whatever it takes to get what you want,” I continued, my eyes locked on Alonso. “So forgive me if I don’t believe for a second that you suddenly care about her well-being.”
Alonso set his glass down with deliberate precision, his smile now completely gone. “You’re awfully protective, Alaric,” he said, his voice sharper now. “Almost territorial. But have you considered that your involvement might be the very thing holding her back?”
I laughed, though there was no humor in it. “And you think you’re qualified to decide that? The man who plays games with people’s lives for sport?”
“That’s enough,” Emilia said sharply, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
We both turned to her. My fists were seriously itching to punch him in the face. Or shoot him between his eyes.
“This isn’t about who’s right or wrong,” she said, her tone firm. “It’s about moving forward. Alonso, I appreciate your concern, but my relationship with Alaric is not up for discussion.”
“Emilia,” Alonso began, but she held up a hand to stop him.
“No,” she said. “You don’t get to sit here and make veiled insults about Alaric while pretending to care about me. If you have something constructive to say, then say it. Otherwise, let’s move on.”
For a moment, Alonso said nothing, his gaze flicking between us. Then he leaned back in his chair, his smile returning, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Fair enough,” he said smoothly. “I suppose I’ve said my piece.”
“Good,” Emilia answered flatly.
“But it doesn’t mean I’ll stop warning you about him, Emili. Alaric is poison, you know t-”
I lunged for him before he could even complete the sentence, but Emilia caught me, pulling me back down while giving me an harsh look.
“See? He can’t even keep his cool. He can’t sit through a civil conversation without acting like a mad dog.” Alonso eyed me with disdain before shifting his eyes back to Emilia.
“With all due respect, Alonso,” Emilia began, clearing her throat. “You might be my father by birth. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do to change that. Honestly, that’s what’s holding me back. But you might not find y reaction favorable if you keep insulting the man I’m engaged to. Watch your tone, before I’m forced to put a bullet between your eyes myself,” she warned. Her eyes narrowed. And I’ve never felt so proud of anyone like this before.
“Threaten me all you want, daughter. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop telling you that this man isn’t right for you. He’s poison,” Alonso insisted.
“You mentioned. But sometimes, poison has its own uses,” she shot him a thin-lipped smile.