I narrow my eyes at that. "You have men watching me?"
"I have men watching everyone in this family. It's not personal." He picks up one of the papers. "But your reports have become... concerning."
He slides a photograph across the desk. It's me and Savannah, outside her dorm building. I’m standing too close to her. The photographer managed to capture the look on my face, and seeing it takes my breath away. It’s evident how I feel abouther from this picture alone. I’ve never seen that expression on my face before.
"Who is she?" Dante asks, though his tone suggests he already knows.
I swallow hard, knowing better than to try to lie. But I do try to skirt what I fear is coming, just a little. "Her name is Savannah."
"Savannah Beauregard. Daughter of Edgar Beauregard. First-year graduate student. Engaged to Thaddeus Whitmore." He slides another photograph across the desk. "You've been seeing her for weeks."
This photo is from the department gala. Savannah and I are dancing, my hand on the small of her back. I’m looking at her like she hung the fucking moon. The man without emotions, displaying them on every inch of his fucking face.
I shift in my chair. "It's not?—"
"Don't lie to me." His voice is sharp. "I have dozens of these. You at her apartment. The two of you at restaurants, at the library, at the park. My men have documented everything."
He slides more photographs across the desk. One of them is of Savannah on her desk, me between her legs, my hand braced against the wall. I see fucking red at that, knowing someone was watching while I fucked her.
No one sees her like that but me. I want to rip the photo into shreds, but that would give too much away. If my father understands the depths of what I feel for her, he’ll use it against me. I have to be very careful in how I proceed with this, or both Savannah and I will suffer.
"I know everything, Romeo. That's my job. To know everything." He leans back in his chair. "What I don't understand is why. Why would you risk everything—your position, your future, this family—for a girl?"
"She's not just a girl."
"No. She's Edgar Beauregard's daughter. She's connected to one of the most powerful families in the South. A family that ours has had a blood feud with for two generations. “ He stops, and I can see the anger in his eyes. "She's off-limits, Romeo. Our families have nothing to do with each other. And if she were to decide this relationship isn’t what she wants, if her father were to find out and decide to cause trouble for us, ifshewere to cause trouble for us, it would spiral out of control. Federal investigations, police, things you can’t imagine coming down on this family.”
"She won't?—"
"You don't know what she'll do. That's the problem. You've lost control. You've become sloppy. You've become emotional. You've become exactly the kind of liability I trained you never to be."
The words cut deeper than I expected. Because he's right. I have become sloppy. I have lost control. But it’s for a reason I refuse to believe isn’t worthwhile.
"Love is a weakness, Romeo. Love makes you vulnerable. Love makes you stupid. Love makes you—" He gestures at the photographs. "This. Reckless. Dangerous. Your desire for this girl is a threat to everything we've built."
"I'm not a threat?—"
"You are. You're a threat to yourself, to her, to this family. You’re a threat to everything I, your grandfather, and his father have built." He stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of me. "I trained you to be better than this. I trained you to be controlled, disciplined, focused. I trained you to put the family first. Always."
"I know?—"
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you've forgotten everything I taught you. You've forgotten who you are. What you are. You've let some girl?—"
"Don't call her that." The words come out before I can stop them, sharp and defiant, the first time I’ve ever talked back to my father.
Dante's eyes narrow. "What did you say?"
"Don't call her 'some girl.' She's?—"
"She's nothing." His voice is cold. "She's a distraction. A weakness. A liability. And you're going to end it."
My jaw tightens, and I push myself to my feet too, facing him. "No."
The word hangs in the air between us. I've never said no to my father. Not once in my entire life. I've been trained since childhood to obey, to follow orders, to never question his authority. But I can't do this. I can't walk away from Savannah.
"What did you say?" Dante's voice is dangerously quiet.
"I said no. I won't end it. I can't."
