He warned you he’d be like this.

But still, as the boy nervously shifts under Tom’s gaze, you fight the urge to roll your eyes. You’ve seen that look before—cool, unreadable, sharpened like a blade behind his every word. It’s the look he used to give his enemies. Now it’s aimed at your daughter’s trembling boyfriend.

The boy opens his mouth to speak, but Tom raises a finger. “No need for pleasantries. I already know who you are.”

Your daughter groans. “Dad, don’t—”

He steps forward, not breaking eye contact “I’ve read your grades. Your family background. Watched you for weeks.” A pause. Then, flatly: “You’re… acceptable.”

The boy blinks. “Thanks?”

Tom’s faint smile is all ice and calculation. “It’s not a compliment. It’s a warning. You’re being allowed near her. That permission is revocable.”

You sigh, placing a hand gently on his arm—partly to ground him, partly to stop him from saying more.

This is Tom as a father: overprotective, intimidating, and just a little bit terrifying.

But underneath the menace, you know the truth.

He’d do anything to keep your daughter safe. Even if that means scaring away every boy who walks through your door.

The front door clicks shut as your daughter and her boyfriend leave.

You glance at Tom. “You couldn’t just smile and say hello?”

He doesn’t look away. “I did say hello. My way.”

You shake your head, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “You know she’s going to call you dramatic for the next week.”

Tom slips an arm around your waist, voice low. “As long as he remembers I meant every word.”

You sigh. “Merlin help the poor boy.”

Tom smirks. “He’ll survive. Maybe.”