“Even if those decisions might get her killed.”
“Alana!” he warns and I realize this discussion no longer involves me. Only he has the power to refuse me and she expects him to use it.
“How the hell can you even consider this? It’s madness.”
“Do you think that Lucia shouldn’t take over the Montoya family business one day? Is she any less deserving than our sons?”
Wow! He went straight for jugular, using the fact that I’m adopted and that she’s a huge feminist in one fell swoop.
“No.” She pulls back from him but she glares up at him, all five feet four inches of her full of anger. “How dare you suggest that’s what this is about?”
“Then what is it? Because you know I want to hand over my legacy to my children. This is what I do, Alana. If Lucia wants to be a part of it, then I won’t stop her. The fact that she doesn’t want to be a spoiled rich kid who lives off her parents makes me proud of her.”
“A spoiled rich kid like me? Is that it?”
“I never said that,” he growls and the tension in the room becomes so thick I could cut it with a knife. My mom was never a spoiled rich kid, but my father believed that she was when he married her. It’s why he calls her princess. It started as an insult but became a term of affection.
I look at Jax hoping that he has some magical way to deal with what’s going on here but he shakes his head at me, as if to tell me to stay out of it. He knows my parents better than anyone. But I feel awful. I have started a huge fight between them the night before they leave for their first vacation in two years.
“Daddy.” I hear one of the twins shouting from outside the room.
He turns to the door momentarily and then he looks at me. “Lucia, can you see to your brother, please?” he snarls before he turns back to my mom who continues to glare at him.
“Sure.” I swallow, relieved to have an excuse to get out of the room. My parents rarely argue, but when they do it’s epic. Why the hell did I do this tonight?
“I’ll come help you,” Jax mumbles and the two of us walk out of the room and into the hallway.
“Luch-ee,” my little brother Dario says with a huge smile when he sees me.
“Hey, kiddo,” I scoop him into my arms. “What’s up?”
“Tomás said I can’t whistle,” he pouts and I can’t help but smile at him.
“And can you whistle?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “No.”
Jax laughs too and he ruffles Dario’s hair. “Go tell Tomás that I’ll teach you both to whistle as soon as you’re old enough.”
“Okay,” he grins and then clambers down out of my arms before running off down the hallway back to his brother.
“I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for,” Jax smiles at me.
“A whole week with the three of them.” I shake my head. “I feel exhausted just thinking about it.”
“I feel exhausted for you.”
“You are the twins’ godfather though, and you are Matthias’ second favorite person after his Papa, so I think that means you’re contractually obliged to help me out this week,” I remind him.
He arches an eyebrow at me. “Is that so?”
“It most definitely is.” I feel the heat flush unexpectedly over my cheeks. Being in his company never used to be this awkward. “You think they’re okay?” I look back toward the kitchen where we left my parents arguing.
“Well, I haven’t heard a gunshot or anything breaking yet so that’s a good sign, right?” he laughs.
“Don’t, Jax,” I shake my head. “I feel so bad for causing this.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder and gives me a quick squeeze before dropping it back to his side. “There’s no need to, Lucia. Your mom is just worried about you.”