I stuttered, "Wh-what?"

Machiavelli raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem? Didn't you hear what I asked?"

"No, I did, but-'"

I froze as my brain searched for the words right for the occasion. Fuck, why didn't I see this coming?

"Something the matter?"

Come on, Angelo. Get it together!

Settling back into my seat, I forced my lips into a smirk. "So, you're going for the tough dad routine."

He replied, "Judging by how you always act around me, wouldn't you agree that seems to be my default mode?"

I froze.

A moment later, I forced out a chuckle. "Alright, you got me there."

Machiavelli didn't offer me a smile in return.

Despite that, I held his gaze. As the seconds dragged by, I left my face blank as I stared in his steely eyes, hardly letting out any air as I breathed.

If I back down, I've lost.

At last, he smiled. "Oh, loosen up! Whatever answer you give me, I wouldn't go back on my word. Nothing is going to happen to you."

My eyes scanned his immediate vicinity. There's no knife around, great.

I nodded. "If that's the case, you'll be pleased to know that Aimee and I are just-"

I froze. What exactly is my relationship with Aimee? We're not acquaintances because we spend way much time together to be that. But why does 'friend' not feel right? Maybe because I don't know if Aimee feels the same way-

Machiavelli cut through my thoughts. "Well?"

I cleared my throat. We're...partners."

Machiavelli furrowed his brow. "I see. And what exactly is your definition of 'partners'?"

I replied, "I mean that we have to work together."

"Really? That's what you mean?"

"Yes. What else would I mean?"

He shrugged. "I mean, Aimee has never even brought home a female friend before, not to talk of a male..."

I furrowed my brow. "What exactly are you insinuating?"

"Well...I know how easily hormones can influence teenagers-"

'Wait-" I scoffed, "-you think I'm Aimee's boyfriend?"

"So you admit it?"

"Wh-no! Aimee and I are not dating, and even if we were, I certainly would not be her first-"

The door flew open. Boom!

I jumped, turning to it.

Aimee walked into the room. "Whoops! Must have used too much force to swing open the door."

"Funny," Machiavelli said, "I could have sworn the door was already open."

I glared at Aimee's grinning face. "Yeah, so could I."

"A draft must have blown it shut. Anyways," Walking into the room, Aimee drew out the chair beside me and sat. "Angelo, you were talking about how you should be getting home now?"

I replied, "You must have heard wrong because we were-"

"Don't you think you should be heading home? I mean, it is getting pretty late!" Aimee glanced at her watch. It's nearly eight."

Machiavelli chuckled. "My daughter, Aimee, classifying 8 pm as late? Something is definitely-"

"What? Pfft, nothing's wrong!" Aimee let out a forced laugh. "I'm just considering Angelo's feelings, that's all!"

I smirked. "Well, thanks, but I'm fine here."

The larger Aimee's smile grew, the hotter her eyes blazed. At that moment, it seemed like she was trying to split her face in two. "Oh, but are you sure?"

She laid her fingernails on my thigh, digging them in slowly.

Machiavelli said, "If he says he's not ready to leave, he can stay. He's not bothering me."

My smirk grew. "Yeah, I'm not bothering him."

Aimee dug her fingers further into my leg. "Oh, how...nice."

I winced.

Machiavelli said, "Aimee, would you mind leaving us alone for some time? I'd like to have a private conversation with Angelo."

Aimee protested, "Dad!"

Grinning, Machiavelli wagged a finger at her. "Don't 'dad' me. Remember our agreement?"

"But you had a private conversation while I was doing the dishes!"

"True, but we never finished it."

"Yeah, we never-" I yelped when Aimee pinched my thigh. "-Ow!"

Standing, Aimee huffed. "Alright, I'll let you both enjoy your conversation."

As she crossed the doorway, Machiavelli said, "Close the door on your way out."

She frowned. "Are you sure the room wouldn't get too stuffy?"

I said, "We'll be fine."

I felt a twinge of satisfaction as she narrowed her eyes at me.

Machiavelli added, "Don't worry, I wouldn't ask any questions about your love life."

She laughed. "Worry? Why would that worry me? I don't care!"

"So, you don't mind if he asks questions?" I shrugged. "Okay then-"

Her eyes snapped back to me. "Angelo, I swear-"

Grinning, I nodded at Machiavelli. Just as I expected, Aimee stopped.

A short while later, she put on a strained smile. "I'd be leaving now."

I nodded. "Close the door on your way-"

Slam!

Machiavelli sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe she really thought I'd forget to tell her to close the door. Leaving it open negates the point of having a soundproof room!"

I hummed.

Silence fell.

Holy shit, I'm about to have a conversation with my family's biggest competitor.

My eyes wandered around the room, searching for a distraction. They fixed on a picture that showed two kids standing in front of a man and woman.

Machiavelli said, "That's Tatiana, my late wife."

I looked at him, but the picture held his attention.

I took some time to phrase my response, then replied, "So...that's Aimee and-"

He interrupted. "-Tim's mother, yes. And the most incredible woman to ever walk this earth."

My eyes wandered back to the picture. Aimee looked really young in it, about four years old. Her long dark hair was done up in pigtails, and she grinned as she looked up at the Machiavelli. The woman standing beside him looked like an older, curvier version of Aimee. One of her hands rested on Aimee's head, while the other held a baby.

Machiavelli said, "She was killed."

I looked at him, my eyes widening. "Oh...oh. By who?"

His sorrow-filled eyes were still fixed on the picture. He didn't reply.

After a few moments, during which I had to force myself to sit still, he spoke. "The closer you get to the top, the more enemies you get."

Despite the fact I was itching to know more, I simply nodded.

A while later, Machiavelli looked at me. "Your mother's passing was a sad event."

My breath caught. "My mother, you mentioned knowing her before you..."

"Before I banned you from my house, yes, I remember," he chuckled. "I did know her. We went to college together."

My eyes widened. "Really?"

"Hmm. Angela was a great friend. The news of her death saddened me." Machiavelli's eyes turned wistful. "Few people, men and women alike, can hold a candle to the fiery force that was Angela Smith."

Memories of the past played in my head, stifling my voice.

I nodded at Machiavelli. Judging by the look he gave in return, he understood everything the nod entailed.