“No.” I light up and take a draw.
He stares at me and bites the inside of his lip.
“She doesn’t know me at all, and she’s gotten to know you a lot over the last few weeks. You don’t think you’d be a better candidate for the job?” He raises his brows. I know he’s pussyfooting and trying to drag the truth from me.
“No, I don’t. I think your best placed to do it. You’re neutral and all about business.”
“And she doesn’t have any sort of feelings for me?” he intones.
I wait a moment before I nod. “Yeah.”
“Tristan, you are not yourself. I don’t expect you to be in light of what’s happening and I haven’t expected you to be the brother I know since you lost Alyssa, but I sense you care about this girl. Do I have to remind you what you told me about Emelia?”
“No, you don’t and that was different.”
“How? You’re going to seriously tell me that me falling for Emelia was different from whatever you might feel for Isabella?”
“I am.” And it’s no longer for the reasons I originally thought.
“You told me to think of what she was. The beautiful woman who captured me from the first moment I saw her. Then Pa told me it didn’t matter where she came from. You can’t help who you feel for.”
I must be wearing my heart on my sleeve because he wouldn’t be talking to me like this if he couldn’t see straight through me.
“Her father is Mortimer Viggo. She’s lived her life in darkness. She deserves a life free of that. A life free of danger where she can have dreams. She deserves to be able to fall asleep at night and dream, not to be trapped in the nightmares of dark memories.”
“Maybe you could give that to her,” he states surprising me.
I have to smile, briefly, then shake my head. “You know I can’t.”
On that declaration I stand and leave.
* * *
Alfonse walks into my living room with that edgy vibe again. I wanted to see him away from everyone so I got him to meet me at home.
I have special things I need to talk about.
The first is to inform him of what’s been going on.
Massimo has allowed me to but only because I need something from him.
We sit down in the living room and he has that look I’ve grown used to from when I was a boy.
He looks worried.
“Tristan, you could give an old man a heart attack with all this suspense,” he muses.
“I’m sorry, and you aren’t old. You’re barely sixty.”
“I was sixty last year and this one year that’s flown by has carried enough to age me by a hundred more years.”
I feel the same so I can’t argue that.
“I have to talk to you about a few things. Not company related. You’ve been like a second father to me so I think I trust you as such.”
He sighs and his pale brown eyes gaze back at me with more worry. “I deeply appreciate that and I think of you as a son. You do realize though that you’re scaring me.”
“I know and I don’t mean to but I have to be realistic. There are serious things happening. very serious things I might not make it back from. Alfonse we found Mortimer Viggo,” I say and his mouth drops.