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“I know you love your father, Ade,” he said softly. “But Silvio is a powerful man and I have a feeling that, just like my father, there’s probably a lot more to him than you know.”
“What does that mean?” I asked him, my temper suddenly flaring. “I understand you’re upset because you don’t want to see my father because you don’t want to tell him you backed out of marrying me, you know, again—“
“That’s not fair—“
I held up a hand to stop him from talking.
“No, let me finish,” I said, pulling away from him and sitting up, crossing my arms over my chest. “I understand your daddy issues. Believe me, I live with the same kind of problems too. But we don’t have a choice. The person from our family who is stealing from us could be working with your family. And there’s a war about to start.”
“That’s why you have to stay out of it,” Tristan said, reaching for my hand.
“Too late for that.” I shook my head, my hand on my belly. “There is no ‘staying out of it’ option left anymore.”
The room descended into silence, the weight of my words a tangible, tense thing that hung heavy between us. Tristan’s hand tightened around mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over my knuckles in a futile attempt to lessen the impact.
He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah, I know.”
Silence fell between us again, heavier this time, as we both grappled with the implications of what we’d discovered. A traitor in the midst, a looming war – none of it boded well. And somewhere near the heart of it all was my father.
Tristan was right; Sil Orsini may have been more than he seemed. But even after all these years, even after everything that had happened, he was still my father. The man who’d held me when I cried, who’d taught me how to ride a bike, who’d always been there for me. I wasn’t ready to believe he could have any part in the betrayal.
Plus, embezzling his own money? Absolutely not.
“And you’re going to have to tell him the wedding is off,” I said. “Sooner or later.”
“The wedding isn’t off,” Tristan replied defensively. “The wedding is postponed until I can guarantee your safety.”
I laughed, a little more bitterly than I wanted to. “So the wedding is off.”
He didn’t reply. His jaw clenched, and I saw the flicker of frustration in his blue eyes. I knew he was trying to protect me—to shield me from the violent world we were born into—but it hurt all the same.
“Can we...can we not fight about this right now?” Tristan said after a moment of silence, his voice weary. “There’s so much going on, and I need you on my side.”
“I am on your side,” I countered. “Always have been, always will be. But you can’t expect me not to fight for us—for our future.”
His eyes softened at my words, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I know,” he murmured. “It’s just complicated.”
“I know it’s complicated. Hence the talking to my father.”
He sighed, a worn-out huff of air that ruffled my hair. His arms encircled me again, pulling me closer toward him. The warmth of his body was comforting and for a moment it felt like everything else could wait. Yet the conversation loomed over us like an ominous cloud.
“I know we have to. Let me, uh, let me do it first.”
He said it so softly, almost as if he were afraid I’d argue. I considered it for a moment, but I knew he was right.
“So what are you going to tell him?”
“That we have some concerns about your safety and that’s why we haven’t scheduled the wedding yet. I don’t think the excuse of my dad dying and me not being ready yet is going to fly for much longer.”
I sighed, leaning my forehead against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my cheek. “And what about the embezzlement? The possible traitor in our ranks?”
“I’ll tell him we have some suspicions...that we’re still gathering evidence, but we thought he should know.”
“We’re going to cause an uproar, Tristan. Not just within my family, but yours as well. Are you ready for that?”
He was silent for a moment and then said, “I don’t think there’s ever really being ‘ready’ for something like this. But if it means protecting you, protecting us, it’s a storm I’m willing to face.”
His words should have comforted me but instead, they only stoked the fire of my anxiety. This wasn’t just about protecting me; this was about protecting all of us — our families, our heritage, and our way of life. We were on the precipice of a war that could threaten it all.
