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There lies the threat lingering in the air.
“What spell has she cast on you?” asks Enzo.
“She hacked into your house, betrayed you. Tell me what she did.”
Before Enzo can respond, Emily is by the door. “Felix,” she calls out, warning me to stop.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Go back in, Emily,” I order.
“No,” she says. “I can prove myself just fine. I don’t need you to defend me.”
I walk over to her and whisper. “Not here, Emily. We’ll talk later.”
“Then come back in,” she says.
“No. He can’t speak with you this way.”
“I’m no damsel in distress, alright? You’re undermining my power.”
Her defiance is a turn-on, a spark that lights a fire within me.
Emily isn’t just any woman. She’s a force to be reckoned with.
“No, Emily,” I say.
“I’ve had it with you. This isn’t about you, contrary to what you believe. This is my family, and in my family, we don’t speak to others that way. I would have done the same if this had been anyone else.”
She nods. “So, it’s not in my defense?”
“No,” I say. “It’s in defense of the values I desire us to imbibe. Go back inside, and don’t come out.”
I can tell she wants to take this further and argue more, but time is of the essence, and for the first time since I’ve met her, I watch her bite her tongue.
She retreats back into the room and closes the door behind her.
Enzo is still on the ground, clutching his nose. I pick him up and close my face, staring him right in the eye. “She’s smarter than all of us combined. If we survive this hit, it will be because of her. If you ever speak to her like that
again, I swear you will regret it.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” says Enzo. Although his tone says differently.
“Let’s go back,” I say, handing him my handkerchief.
I never apologize. I can’t. The Don is never wrong, but in my own way, I let Enzo know that I acted on impulse.
The handkerchief - my olive branch. He wipes off the blood and nods, following me into the room.
I release him and walk back into the room, where Emily looks at me with fear and awe. I walk up to her, and she takes a step back.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I tell her.
“I’m used to it,” she says softly.
I wonder why she’s used to it? Did her bloody ex treat her this bad? I want to caress her cheek, but I don’t.
Not when everyone still distrusts her, and she has a reputation to protect.
