"Forget about harsh words or violence,"
Taylor picked up the wine glass Vicente had poured for him, his dark eyes fixed intently on the other man with piercing sharpness.
"But you know exactly what I expect," he continued, his voice still smooth and composed, yet laced with an unmistakable gravity.
"If you can't meet those conditions, I won't entrust Melissa to you completely."
Taylor knew the girl he had painstakingly raised like a treasure all too well—delicate, timid, unable to weather life's storms.
The foremost requirement for gaining his approval was ensuring Melissa a life of absolute stability and peace.
This was his bottom line—as her elder brother, as the only blood relative she had left.
"Don't worry," Vicente lowered his glass slightly, clinking it against Taylor's, his stern face etched with solemnity.
"My word is my bond."
A few simple words, yet they carried the weight of one man's most solemn vow to another.
