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“C’mon,” she said. “He doesn’t bite.”
"Is that supposed to be reassuring?" I asked, my eyes scanning the opulent facade of the Orsini mansion. The grandeur of the place had always managed to intimidate me, a reminder of the power that Silvio Orsini wielded. Not because I was afraid of mansions or anything, my dad’s place was bigger than this. It was just so…Italian. Adriana’s mother clearly had a huge hand in decorating everything.
"Tristan." Adriana's voice, soft yet firm, snapped me out of my thoughts. She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and took a step forward. I followed suit. Together, we climbed the stairs, the heavy wooden door looming larger with each step.
I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me. This was it–the point of no return. All my life, I had been taught to avoid attachments, to keep my guard up at all times. But here I was, about to ask for the hand of the woman I loved from one of the most powerful men in our world.
Silvio received us in his study, a cavernous room filled with mahogany furniture and walls lined with ancient texts. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, eyes as sharp as ever behind his spectacles. His lips curved into a smile as he met Adriana's gaze but hardened when they fell on me.
“You look well,” he said. “Again, let me extend my condolences. Malachy was far too young.”
"Thank you, sir," I replied stiffly. “He was a…I’ll miss him.”
“I’m sure you will.”
The room felt too small, the weight of Silvio's gaze suffocating me. There was a long pause before he gestured towards the leather chairs in front of his dark mahogany desk.
"Sit," he commanded, his voice authoritative and smooth as whiskey. We obliged, and the room fell into a tense silence once again.
Silvio interlaced his hands, appraising us over his steepled fingers. His eyes, sharp and calculating, were focused on me as if trying to decipher my every thought. Perhaps he was–after all, this was the man who ran half of the city’s underworld with nothing but his iron will and ruthless cunning.
“Tristan,” he began, his voice coated with a strange mix of menace and familiarity that made me feel like a hunted animal. “What brings you to my home today?”
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze almost physically pressing down on me. Adriana reached out under the table, her hand finding mine and giving it a reassuring squeeze. I took a moment, gathering my thoughts before I spoke.
"I want to marry your daughter," I blurted out, unable to construct a more eloquent sentence. The room fell silent, the only sound being the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
Silvio's eyes never left mine, their intensity never wavering. His smile was gone now, replaced with a stern, evaluating expression. He took his time replying, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers together.
"You want to marry Adriana," he repeated slowly, as though testing out the words for himself. His gaze flickered towards Adriana for a moment before coming back to me. "And why would you want to do that? For love? Or is this just a move to solidify your place as the new head of the Callahan family? A political alliance?"
I swallowed. “I’m aware of the practicalities of our union,” I said. “I care very much about your daughter, and I think making her my wife would protect her from any external factions.”
Silvio's gaze was piercing, but I held it without flinching. His scrutiny was necessary, an examination of my motives and intentions, and I welcomed it. The silence stretched between us, heavy and intimidating, as he considered my words.
The room felt too small suddenly, the air too thin for breathing. Outside, the wind was howling like a trapped animal. Inside, the grandfather clock ticked on relentlessly. It was as though time had frozen over and we were the only living beings in this self-created purgatory.
Silvio's gaze remained steady. "Protecting Adriana is my responsibility." His voice was a low growl, a lion defending his pride. "I will not leave that to someone who has already proven he cannot be trusted with it."
His words were like a punch to the gut. I winced, remembering the pain and terror in Adriana's eyes when she'd been kidnapped under my watch. The guilt that had constricted around my heart then returned now, wrapping around me like a snake.
"I know I've made mistakes," I admitted, my throat tightening around the words. "I don't expect your trust, Silvio. But I do expect you to believe me when I say that no one will ever harm Adriana again. And if they try…" My voice hardened at the thought. "…they'll regret it."
Silvio leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes bore into mine for a long moment before he nodded slowly. “The time for a political marriage is long past,” he said. “You were to take advantage of it when your father was still alive. Now, Tristan, I’m afraid you’re my de facto enemy. That makes you her enemy, too.”
“I made a huge mistake not marrying Adriana back then,” I said. “I understand you and my father were only trying to broker peace, and you knew how much of a threat Nick Rossi was as soon as Rico Rossi went down. I get that. I just…”
He waited for me, his brows raised.
“I didn't want her to be a pawn in our game," I confessed, forcing the words out. "I didn't want her life dictated by the whims of our fathers. I wanted–I want–her to choose me. To marry me not because it is beneficial for our families but…because she loves me."
Silvio took a sip of his drink, tilting his head as he looked at me. “You’re young, Tristan,” he said. “This world will be hard for you.”
“All due respect, Silvio, I’m already in this world. And I’m quite aware of how hard it is.”
Silence fell again, as heavy as before. The old man studied me silently, his gaze scrutinizing every line of my face. I could almost see the gears turning in his head, plotting and planning for every possible outcome. It was unnerving, but expected. He turned to his daughter, addressing her softly. “What changed, baby?”
“Daddy, I’m pregnant,” she said softly.
