SEDUCING MY BESTFRIEND'S DADDY

Chapter 13

The return from Lake Geneva was not a homecoming; it was a retreat. As the SUV pulled into the gravel drive of the Chicago estate, the silence between the three of them was no longer the comfortable quiet of a family outing. It was a jagged thing, filled with the static of things left unsaid.

Alejandro didn't wait to help with the bags. He was out of the car and into the house before the engine had even fully cooled, citing a "emergency oversight" with the European markets. He didn't look at Emily. He didn't even pat Sofia on the shoulder. He simply vanished into his study, the heavy oak door clicking shut with the finality of a prison cell.

For the next three days, Alejandro became a ghost in his own home.

He took his meals in the study. He left for the office before dawn and returned long after the house had gone dark. When he was forced to be in the same room as Emily, he treated her with a chilling, clinical politeness that was worse than his anger. He spoke to her as if she were a stranger, a casual acquaintance of his daughter whose name he struggled to remember.

"He’s in a mood," Sofia sighed on the fourth day, draped over the velvet sofa in the sunroom. "I tried to ask him about the charity gala next week, and he just stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language. I think the lake house trip stressed him out more than it relaxed him."

Emily looked up from her book, her thumb tracing the edge of a page. She knew exactly what was happening. This was the "Withdrawal." Alejandro was trying to starve the fire by cutting off the oxygen. He thought that by ignoring her, he could undo the memory of the boat’s cabin—the scent of fuel and salt, and the way he had gripped her as if he were trying to merge their very souls.

"Maybe he just needs space, Sofia," Emily said, her voice calm, though her mind was already calculating her next move. "Men like your father... they get overwhelmed by things they can't control."

That night, Emily waited until 1:00 AM. She heard the distant sound of the garage door, then the slow, rhythmic thud of Alejandro’s cane as he navigated the stairs. He sounded exhausted.

She stood in the hallway, wearing the same silk slip dress he had stripped from her at the lake house. She didn't hide in the shadows; she stood directly in front of his bedroom door.

Alejandro stopped at the top of the stairs. Even in the dim light, she saw the way his shoulders slumped when he saw her. He looked older, the lines around his eyes etched deep by a lack of sleep and the weight of his "correspondence."

"Go to bed, Emily," he said, his voice a dry rasp. He didn't move toward her. He stood like a man at the edge of a cliff.

"You've been avoiding me," she said, stepping into his space. The scent of his sandalwood cologne was faint, buried under the smell of office air and coffee.

"I am doing what I should have done the moment you set foot in this house," he hissed, finally meeting her eyes. There was no lust there now—only a raw, bleeding exhaustion. "I am ending this insanity. It was a fever, Emily. A temporary madness. But the fever has broken."

"Has it?" She reached out, her fingers grazing the lapel of his suit jacket.

Alejandro caught her wrist, his grip firm but not aggressive. He pulled her hand away, holding it in the space between them. "I look at Sofia and I see her mother. I see the man I was supposed to be. And then I look at you, and I see the man I’ve become. I cannot live in both worlds, Emily. I choose her. I will always choose her."

He let go of her hand and stepped past her, opening his door. "Tomorrow, I’m sending you to the city apartment. I’ve arranged for a driver. You’ll stay there for the rest of the summer. It’s better for everyone."

The door shut. The lock clicked.

Emily stood in the dark hallway, her heart racing not with fear, but with a cold, sharp fury. He thought he could just move her like a piece on a chessboard? He thought a city apartment and a private driver could solve the "problem" of her?

He had chosen Sofia. He had chosen his guilt.

Fine, Emily thought.

"You want to play the saint, Alejandro?" Emily whispered to the silent door. "Let’s see how long you can keep the halo on when I start dancing with the devil."