Page 78 of Damon

"Thank you for agreeing to this meeting," my father begins formally.

"Your message was... intriguing," Roberto replies, his angry eyes fixed on me. "You said your son had something important to discuss regarding my daughter."

I clear my throat. "Mr. Bonacci, I've compromised your daughter's honor. I'm here to make it right."

The words hang in the air like a challenge. Roberto's expression doesn't change, but I see his sons exchange glances.

"Compromised," Roberto repeats slowly. "Explain."

He’s seen the photos, which means he knows exactly what I mean. He’s forcing me to publicly give him details in case he decides to kill me later.

"During the weeks I protected Viviana, we became... involved. I take full responsibility for what happened."

"Involved how?"

So, this is how it will go.

I meet his eyes steadily. "I took her virginity."

The room goes deadly quiet. Roberto's hands flatten on the table, and I sense the effort it's taking him to remain seated.

"You took my daughter's innocence while she was under your protection."

"Yes."

"And now you're here to... what? Apologize?"

"I'm here to do what's right. To offer marriage."

“Let me get this right. You’re asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage after you defiled her?”

“Yes, I’m asking for permission to marry her.”

“Do you know what you're asking me to do? You're asking me to hand my only daughter to the family I've spent twenty years trying to destroy."

"The circumstances have changed."

"Have they?" He slams his fist on the table. "Or are you a very clever manipulator? My daughter is snatched from a club, ends up pregnant by my enemy's son, and suddenly everyone thinks this is destiny instead of disaster." He stands, pacing to the window. "My father is rolling in his grave. Your family killed his brother in 1987. Bombed our warehouse in '92. And now I'm supposed to smile and welcome you to my family as a son?"

"The alternative is war."

"Maybe war is preferable to betraying everything I was raised to believe."

I let him pace, let him work through the rage and guilt and impossible choice he's facing. Outside, I can hear the normal sounds of the restaurant, clinking glasses, muted conversation, life going on while we sit here deciding the fate of both our families.

"You know what keeps me awake at night?" Roberto continues, his back still to me. "The thought that twenty years from now, Viviana will look at me and realize I sold her to keep the peace. That I chose politics over her happiness. How can I live with that?"

"She chose me," I say quietly. "This wasn't arranged. She could have walked away."

He spins around, his eyes blazing. "Could she? Really? An eighteen-year-old with nowhere to go, completely dependent on the goodwill of men who view her as abargaining chip?" He laughs bitterly. "That's not choice, that's survival."

"You don't know her like I do—"

"I raised her!" The words explode out of him. "And now you're telling me I don't know my own daughter?"

The pain in his voice cuts deeper than any threat could. This isn't the calculating crime boss I expected to face. This is a father watching his little girl slip away.

"She's not a little girl anymore," I tell him. "She's a woman who made a choice about her own life. Maybe not under ideal circumstances, but still her choice."