Silence filled the air as my father inclined forward, his fingers steepled under his chin. He was waiting—waiting for one of us to make a move, to say something insightful, something ruthless.
The Delta stood nearby, arms crossed, but he wore such an unreadable expression that made guessing what was going on in his mind hard.
Álvaro, of course, sat as if he owned the entire room, shoulders squared, and eyes glistening with the newfound opportunity.
To say the man in question was to become his Father-in-law in twenty-five days and he was here, busy plotting against him like he was a sworn enemy or something.
I despised Don Diego, but I wouldn't stand for the traitorous intent behind this meeting. Hell, I thought Don Diego and my father were friends.
Apparently, they were friends on the surface, but rivals deep within them. Each jealous of what the other has and secretly seeks the downfall of the other.
