Chapter 52
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Aric
The following morning, a convoy of black cars rolls through my gates. I watch from the window of my office as the vehicles pull up to the front entrance. Four cars and at least a dozen men, from what I can see.
Father-in-law dearest decided to pay a visit.
“Boss.” Tassilo appears in the doorway. “We have a visitor.”
“I see him.”
“Should I—”
“No.” I straighten my cuffs and adjust my collar. “Let him in. Show him to the main hall.”
A moment later, I walk to the main hall. Leandro is already standing in the center with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Leandro.” I stop a few steps before him and don’t offer my hand. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Clearly.” His voice is smooth, but there’s an edge beneath it. “I had to hear from my daughter that you’re harboring my other daughter in your home.”
“Harboring.” A dry, humorless laugh escapes me. “Interesting word choice. I would have said protecting.”
“Protecting her from what, exactly?”
“From you.”
Leandro’s composure flickers—just enough for me to see the fury beneath—before he locks it down again. Impressive control. Almost as good as mine.
Almost.
“Naomi is my daughter,” he says evenly. “She belongs with her family.”
“She’s an adult. She belongs wherever she chooses to be.”
“She’s eighteen years old. She doesn’t know what she wants.”
“She knew enough to run.”
Another flicker. Darker this time. I can almost see the calculation. He came here expecting to intimidate me, to throw his weight around, to lean on whatever authority he thinks he has. Now he understands that won’t work, so he’s changing tactics.
“I understand there was a… misunderstanding,” Leandro says, his voice softening. Conciliatory now. Playing the concerned father. “The arrangement I made for Naomi was perhaps presented poorly. She misinterpreted my intentions.”
“Did she?”
“I only want what’s best for her. Surely, you can understand that. You’re a family man yourself now.” He gestures vaguely. “Married to my eldest daughter. We’re practically family, you and I.”
The word family in his mouth sounds both like a threat and a poison.
“Family,” I repeat. “Is that what we are?”
“Of course. Which is why I’m sure we can resolve this… situation… amicably.” He takes a step forward. “Just let me speak to Naomi. Father to daughter. I’m certain I can make her see reason.”
“No.”
Leandro stops mid-step, and his brows twitch. “Excuse me?”
“I said no.” My head angles a fraction. “You’re not speaking to her. You’re not taking her. She remains here, under my protection, for as long as she chooses to stay.”
Leandro’s teeth clench, his eyes filling with rising fury he tries to contain.
“You forget yourself,” he hisses. “I am her father. I have rights—”
“You have nothing.”
I take a step toward him. Enough to close some of the distance. Enough to remind him that he’s in my house, surrounded by my men, and a very long way from Monsera and anyone who might answer to him.
“When Ayanna agreed to marry me, you made promises. About Naomi. About her freedom. About what would happen to her if Ayanna fulfilled her end of the arrangement.” I watch him a fraction. My voice drops. Colder now. “You broke those promises.”
“Vold—”
I don’t leave any room for argument. “You tried to sell your youngest daughter the same way you sold your eldest to me. And when she ran, when she escaped the fate you’d arranged for her, you come here expecting me to hand her back?”
“She is my daughter—”
“She is under my roof.” I cut him off once more. “Which makes her under my protection. And I don’t hand over people I’ve sworn to protect.”
“Sworn to protect?” Leandro scoffs bitterly. “You’ve barely known her.”
“We’re family. You said it yourself.” I throw his own words back at him, and his composure falters.
“This is absurd. You have no right—”
“I have every right.” I can see the fury burning in his eyes, slipping. “This is my house. My territory. My rules. And my rule is simple. Naomi stays.”
“And if I disagree?”
“Then you can take it up with the men stationed at every entrance.” I straighten, hands clasped behind my back. “Or you can accept that you’ve lost this battle and leave with what remains of your dignity.”
I can see Leandro weighing his options. He has men outside. He could push this. Could turn it into something uglier. Something that ends with blood on my wooden floors and international headlines neither of us wants.
But I know he won’t.
Not because he’s afraid of the violence. Men like Leandro aren’t afraid of violence; they’re fluent in it. But because he’s smart enough to know when the odds aren’t in his favor.
My house. My men. My territory.
He’s outgunned, and he knows it.
“You’re making a mistake,” he hisses. “You think you’ve won something here. You haven’t. All you’ve done is delay the inevitable.”
“Perhaps.”
“My daughters belong to me. Both of them. And I will have them back.”
“Your daughters,” I growl, “are not property. No matter how much you wish they were.”
His face hardens with hatred, stripped of every pretense. I see exactly what he is. I know precisely the kind of monster hiding behind the concerned father, but he won’t fool me.
“This isn’t over,” he warns.
“No.” I hold his gaze. “It isn’t.”
He turns on his heel and walks toward the door, his footsteps echoing through my hall like the countdown to the inevitable.
Tassilo materializes at my side the moment the front door closes. “Should I have the men follow him?”
“Yes. I want to know where he goes, who he meets with, and every move he makes while he’s in Norway. And if he tries something”—I glance at Tassilo—“I want to know about it before he does.”
“Understood.”
“Aric.” Ayanna’s voice makes me turn.
She’s standing at the top of the stairs. She’s tense. Her hands grip the banister like she needs it to stay upright.
“He’s gone?” she asks.
“He’s gone.”
Ayanna nods, exhaling a long, shaky breath that seems to carry all the tension she’s been holding. She descends the stairs slowly, walks through the hall, and stops in front of me. Her eyes search mine, looking for something—doubt, maybe, or hesitation.
“He’ll come for you now,” she whispers. “For us. This isn’t—”
“Let him try.”
I pull her closer. One arm around her waist, the other hand tilting her chin up so she has to look at me.
“Whatever your father is planning,” I say, “whatever he thinks he’s going to do, I will protect you. Both of you. No matter what it costs.”
She rises on her toes and kisses me.