I’m in Emilio’s space in seconds, the jiggling of the dog collars prompting my arrival as Kona and Koda sit their excited asses on Emilio’s hardwood floors.
Then I’m slamming the door in Torin’s face.
Emilio’s head shoots up from the loud and abrupt entrance, and I force a smile. “Hey.”
My sperm donor’s expression lifts at my extra-as-fuck entrance, down at my furry company, then back at me. “Are you—” The door to the room opens, and we—well, I—know who just walked in. And Emilio doesnotbother to appear happy about it. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Bugging the shit out of me,” I fill in, ambling deeper into the room and putting some well-needed space between myself and Pretty Boy. “You called me here?”
“Yes,” Emilio says slowly, still eyeing Torin in the room. “Obviously, with the turn of events that have taken place, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“Fine is a stretch. Killing a girl from South Shore wouldn’t pose such an idea.”
Lovely.
He knows. It’s my fault, though. If I hadn’t taken the photo, no one would know, and it would be my little secret.
“She betrayed me,” I deadpan, receiving Emilio’s leveled gaze.
“How?”
None of your fucking businessis the first thing that pops into my head.
Nonetheless, I’m here to play the crazy daughter who lost her apparent shit while dealing with the abrupt loss of her best friend. Which isn’t far off the mark. I was that less than forty-eight hours ago.
“She was working with Matteo,” I divulge. “And that’s a big no for me. It also led to Levi’s murder. Tack on the simple fact that I’ve been personally attacked by Matteo…and let’s just say, I snapped.”
Emilio stares at me for longer than I’d like, and I’m fully aware he’s trying to size me up to get inside my head. “I’m sorry for your loss, Haven.”
This shit again.
I don’t bother to correct him on my name. I stand here and wait for his faux concern so I can move my ass out of here.
Unfortunately for me, Emilio wants confirmation I heard him and with it not being needed at this point, I struggle with the right words to say.
“There’s nothing you can do,” I emit easily, with zero attachment. “I just want to go home.”
“Of course.” He drops the pen in his hand and folds his fingers together. “We’ll postpone things until you’re feeling up to it. However, I’m assuming things in South Shore will be shifting.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“You should. I’m going to assume, with Wallace’s death, you’d be the next one in line for the throne.”
It shouldn’t be surprising, but him mentioning it straight out of the gate is. I’ve never had someone in my life who is so hellbent on power all the time. Someone who eats, breathes, and shits it on a daily basis. It sounds exhausting, but it’s a personal choice on his end. I have other issues in my house that need resolving and one of them is standing behind me.
“Not the first thing on my mind.”
Emilio gives me a small smile that illuminates how pitiful he thinks I am for not thinking of such matters. As if the loss of my best friend would be overshadowed by an imaginary seat I might get to sit in. If this wasGame of Thrones,and I could see the damn thing, I could get the appeal, but we’re not in a fantasy world.
“We’ll talk when you’re ready.” His blue eyes flick over to Torin. “When we’re in better company.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Torin drawls out, bored. “I figured since you were handing out conversations, we should have one, too.”
“I’ll pass,” Emilio dismisses before his spine hits the back of his leather chair. “You and I don’t have much to talk about these days.”
“You’re right,” his son agrees. “Us Wildes never really bullshit and talk. We just act and handle the business our way.”
