My father chuckled. “Thought I’d let you win just like that?”
I cocked my head. “Win?” I chuckled. As if he wasn’t the one who put a fucking contract on my head. “It was never about winning. It’s about what’s best for the family, for the organization, for the business. And you’re not it.”
He narrowed his eyes, his mask temporarily slipping. “And you are?”
I leaned back in the chair and met my father’s gaze steadily. “I am what the family needs right now. Times are changing, and we need to adapt.”
Alfredo’s lip curled in a sneer. “Adapt? You mean go soft. I’ve seen how that woman has changed you, Vincenzo. Love has made you even weaker.”
For real? Did he do all of this; did my involvement with Jemma vault him over the edge? How absolutely ridiculous.
As if Jemma would’ve ever been a threat to him.
Memories of Jemma flashed through my mind—her fierce determination, the fire in her eyes when she stood up to me, the softness in her smile when we were alone, and her demands to be a team.
Whatever we’d gone through, Jemma made me stronger, not weaker. Her love and unwavering trust in me made me stronger. So maybe he was right, and Jemma was a valid threat to him because loving her made me stronger, not weaker.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t lying to my face right now.
I remained perfectly still, my voice steady and calm. “So your reason for trying to off your entire family is because I fell in love? Because you think my wife makes me weak?”
My father scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Listen to yourself. You sound like a lovesick fool, not the leader of a proud Italian family.”
I could see it in his eyes—he truly believed what he was saying. Was this his newest delusion? Had he repeated that shit often enough to believe it? But it proved one thing.
My father had no concept of who I was, who I’d always been. He also didn’t know how far I’d be willing to go to protectthe ones I loved. For him, it had always been about power and control; for me, it was always about the family and making sure everyone was safe and thriving.
“You’re wrong,” I said simply. “But I’m not here to argue about love or talk philosophy. I have a proposition for you.”
He raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing his interest despite himself. He was so transparent.
I leaned forward, my voice low and intense. “I’ll step down. Give you full control again, leave the family, the organization, the business completely. In exchange, you make sure they return safely, right now.”
Hero tensed next to me, but I didn’t have time to deal with my brother right now.
Didn’t have time to explain what I’d just said. I didn’t think those words would come out of my mouth. But somewhere deep inside of me, I knew it was true. I was ready to give it all up, to turn my back on my entire life, for my sisters, my friends, and the woman I loved.
For a long moment, my father and I locked eyes across the desk. He was stunned, speechless. It probably never even crossed his mind I was ready to leave it all, to let go of the power. Because that was the only thing driving him, the one thing he had to feed his ego, the one thing defining him.
The tension in the room was palpable; years of resentment and unspoken grievances threatened to bubble to the surface, but I let it all go.
Nothing would change the past; nothing would change him. But if I let the past define my future, would I ever be happy? Would I be the man I needed, I wanted to be, for Jemma?
I searched his face for any sign of self-reflection, but all I saw was cold calculation, greed, and a hunger for power. The same look I’d witnessed thousands of times.
“Where are they?” I growled, my voice low and dangerous. I was really losing my patience. And I was done playing games. Either he took my offer or not.
He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Where is who, son?”
The casual dismissal in his tone pushed Hero to the edge. He jumped up and slammed his hands down on his desk, scattering papers and sending a pen holder crashing to the floor. “Don’t play games with us, old man. Where. Are. They?”
He looked at Hero the same way he’d looked at me all through my life whenever I’d failed to meet his impossible standards. But his eyes showed a flicker of confusion, followed by real curiosity.
And something clicked in my mind. My father had no idea. He wasn’t the one who’d taken the women. He didn’t even know who we were talking about.
I leaned back. It would be interesting to see if my father would try to bluff his way back to power. Or if the fact that his daughters were missing would have any impact. “Jemma, Isabella, Mira. Where are they?” I asked, matter-of-factly.
For a split second, his eyebrows arched up, his mouth opened slightly, and his eyes widened for a nanosecond. All signs of genuine surprise.