Something flickers in his expression. Disbelief. Maybe curiosity.
“You expect me to believe that you’re doing this out ofcare?”
“No,” I say quietly. “Out of necessity.”
He narrows his eyes. “Whose necessity? Yours or hers?”
I don’t answer. Because we both know the truth: it’s mine.
Emiliano moves around the desk, pacing slow. “You’ve spent years trying to get away from everything that’s tied to my family. And now you want to become a part of it?”
“I’m done running,” I say simply. “It’s cost me enough.”
He laughs again, but there’s no humor in it. “You really think marrying my sister will buy you redemption?”
“No.” My voice drops lower. “But maybe it’ll stop her from getting killed because of your enemies.”
That makes him stop pacing.
He turns, eyes sharp. “This life comes with its risks.”
“It does, but you take precautions to lower those risks,” I tell him. “You can’t protect everyone at once, Folonari. Not your wife, not your daughter, not your unborn child—and now your sister. Something slips. It always does.”
His head snaps up in my direction, eyes sharp. “How did you?—”
“I have my ways.”
The silence stretches, thick and heavy. The rain outside starts to hit harder against the windows.
Finally, he exhales. “She won’t agree to it.”
“She doesn’t have to.”
He gives me a look—cold, calculating. “What do you get out of this deal?”
I meet his eyes. “A wife. I have more traditional investors I want to make deals with. Appearing to be a family man will help me expand my empire.”
I don’t need to make a confession of my feelings in front of her brother. It’s none of his business.
“Is that all?”
I don’t answer right away. Because saying it would make it real. Because I’ve built my entire life on never needing anyone, never asking, never letting anyone close enough to be a weakness. But the words come anyway, low and unsteady.
“That’s all.”
Emiliano studies me for what feels like forever. “She’s not built for your world.”
“Neither was I. But here we are.”
He looks away, jaw tight. The silence between us is different now. Not combative, just heavy with something that almost feels like pity.
Finally, he sighs. “You know what happens if you hurt her.”
“I won’t.”
“You always say that,” he mutters, half to himself. “Men like you…you mean it until you don’t.”
“I’m not one of those men.”
