Page 81 of LA King

“You can’t force me to marry someone, Papá, and then berate me if I start to care about her.” I’m not prepared to admit to him that I’m in love. I’m not even prepared to admit that to myself.

“But you chose her because you did not want to fall in love. Because you are a smart boy. At least you were. You were supposed to be above all of this feelings nonsense. Love is messy. It complicates things. Makes you weak.”

“Weak? You really think that your love for Mamá makes you weak?”

His voice goes deadly quiet. “We are not talking about me and your mamá.”

All my life he has told me that my mother and I are his greatest weaknesses, and I understand why now. Every time he looks at us, he’s reminded that he’s only a man, and men can be hurt. Men can have the things they love taken away from them.

“You chose her for me, Papá. Perhaps you should have chosen better.”

“You agreed to this, Alejandro. You could have said no and I would have found another.”

It’s laughable that he thinks that’s true. He’s the man I respect most in this world, and I have never told him no in my life. “I’m not in love with her.”

Cursing under his breath, he stands and grabs my cheeks. “You are lying to yourself, mi hijo. And while love will be your greatest weakness, it will also bring your greatest blessings.” He kisses my forehead. “Maybe you will understand when you have a child of your own.”

I think I already do understand.

“Now, how about you properly introduce me to this woman who has stolen my son’s heart?” He slaps me on the back and jerks his head toward the door.

I won’t refuse any excuse to spend time with her. “Sure. She’s around here somewhere.”

I show him out of my study, and as we head to find my wife, I can’t stop my father’s words from running through my head. Love will be your greatest weakness, but it will also bring your greatest blessings.

Alana is most definitely both.

Chapter

Forty-Two

Alana

Iwipe my streaming eyes after I finish chopping the onions and pop them into the pan.

Alejandro’s voice comes from behind me. “Here she is.”

I turn to see him walk into the kitchen beside his father. I saw Mateo briefly at our wedding, but we weren’t formally introduced. His reputation is well-known though, and it’s even more formidable than his son’s. He’s an imposing figure, dressed smartly in a suit and possibly the shiniest shoes I’ve ever seen.

Alejandro looks a lot like him. I wipe my hands on the dish towel and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. If I’d known Alejandro’s father was stopping by, I would have worn something a lot nicer than a tank top and skirt. Not to mention the fact that I am following the no-panty rule to the letter these days. I blush at the realization and thank the Lord that my skirt is long and flowy.

Alejandro gives me a brief kiss on the cheek. “Alana, meet my father.”

“Mr. Montoya, it’s so lovely to finally meet you properly,” I say, extending my hand, my voice barely a whisper.

He ignores my outstretched hand and grabs me by the shoulders before planting a kiss on both my cheeks. “Please, call me Mateo. You are family. Family does not call me Mr. Montoya.”

He’s much warmer than his outward appearance would suggest, and I find myself smiling. “Mateo.”

“Papá just stopped by to see us on his way back to San Diego,” Alejandro explains. He goes to the refrigerator and takes out a jug of lemonade that Magda made this morning.

So he wasn’t expecting his father either then, which explains the lack of a heads up from him. “Will you be staying for dinner, Mateo?” I wince when I remember that I’m making cheeseburgers for dinner. Like my outfit, I would have chosen something more special if I’d known he’d be joining us.

Mateo takes a glass of lemonade from his son. “Of course. I would love to. What are we having?”

“I’m making cheeseburgers, but I could make up something different for you if you’d prefer.”

He frowns at me and then at Alejandro. “Doesn’t Magda cook for you?”