Mila: The Godfather (Unholy Trinity Book 7)
Mila: The Godfather: Part 1 – Chapter 12

MILA

“Trust your gut, Mila, and when it fails you… fuck it. You only live once.” — R

I’ve read a thousand fictional romances, enough to know that things are not always what they seem. Plot twists. They’re everywhere in a good story, and Riagan O’Sullivan is one ginormous unexpected development. One I didn’t see coming.

Look, I know what you’re thinking. How could I possibly agree to go with a stranger who is currently still wearing the blood-stained shirt he had on when he killed another human being in cold blood barely an hour ago? You must think I’m crazy.

To tell you the truth, I guess I am.

My nonna used to remind my sisters and me to always trust our guts and our hearts. Mind you, I’m a logical person. One who doesn’t quite understand feelings and all that jazz, but I do trust my instincts, and my instincts are telling me that the man currently leaning back on his airplane seat like a king on his throne is a big part of my story.

I never believed myself interesting enough to have a story to tell.

That’s why I spent so much time with my nose stuck in a book or with my head in the clouds.

I also don’t understand this feeling in the pit of my stomach. What I do know is that it has never happened until this man.

I feel it now, and I felt it once before when I first met him all those nights ago.

I woke up this morning with the intent of surprising my sister Arianna. I had only good intentions, and then the day took a turn for the worse. I almost got whacked in the middle of a busy street in broad daylight, and no one, not one single person, stopped to help but the man sitting quietly next to me. The man, most people would take one good look at and decide he is a criminal and run in the opposite direction.

Is he a stranger? He is.

Do I know him at all? No, I do not.

Is he a criminal? By the way he looked so smug while he blew another man’s brains, I would guess that’s a big heck yes.

Am I afraid? Again… no.

Why am I not afraid? I wonder. It is unsettling because what makes him different than all the others?

Every other man who has fired a gun around me made me fear for my life, yet this time it doesn’t feel like those times. Riagan doesn’t feel like all the ones before.

Maybe it is his eyes.

His eyes remind me of my favorite color.

Light blue.

It also reminds me of a sunny day at the beach.

My absolute dream.

Arianna used to say that you could tell a lot about a person by their eyes.

The eyes never lie, even when our mouths do.

His eyes didn’t make me uncomfortable for the short amount of time I held his gaze.

On the contrary, he made me feel things I’d never felt before. Things I’ve only read in my books.

Then, his words.

I would rather cut my own heart out with pliers, sweetheart, than cause you any harm.

I admit that’s a bit much for someone who doesn’t really know me. He could be lying.

But something tells me he’s not a liar.

He looks like a man that says what he means and means what he says.

For my sake, I hope my instincts are correct.

I’m shaken when there’s turbulence, making me hold on tightly to my seatbelt.

Just a few more hours… Mila, you can do this.

Three hours and forty-five minutes, that’s how long Riagan said the flight is.

Three hours and forty-five minutes in this bird box that could fail and lead me to my death at any minute.

But I could also die in a car crash.

Walking down the street.

I can even die at the hands of the man sitting two feet from me.

Sighing, I think, what are the odds he would lend me his phone so I can research or read a good book online to pass the time? Moments like this, when I’m anxious and out of my element, my phone and reading tablet are my saving grace. Think about something else, Mila.

Look at the bright side.

I gaze out the airplane’s window, taking in the thick mass of clouds stretching off in the distance. Now that I’m in the sky and on my way, my excitement is sinking in.

I’m flying. I am actually going somewhere other than looking out the window and feeling envious of everything with wings that gets to fly to other places and not be bound to the same city.

We’re headed to Turks and Caicos. Forget for a moment the killers on the loose aiming for my head or stranger danger—the enchanted and magical archipelago has been on my top five places to see before I die.

Now, I’m on my way there.

This morning I was trying to figure out how to stay afloat, and now I’m flying.

Plot twists… I tell you.

When the view of clouds, and more clouds, and oh, look, more clouds, gets boring, I let my mind drift back to when I first met Riagan O’Sullivan. Over seven years ago, on one Halloween night, I came across a giant man with a butterfly tattoo on his throat. The dark night didn’t allow me to see much of him, but I do remember the tattoos on his neck and his voice. Rough and manly, letting me know he was much older than my fourteen years back then. I remember how lonely it felt to be outside our mansion in my pretty butterfly costume that I made with old clothes that didn’t fit my sisters anymore with no one to share it with. Yes, my sisters were there, but they had appearances to uphold. I, on the other hand, was hiding in the backyard, looking up at the stars, counting them, and daydreaming of a day like today, and there he was. Looking a bit less rugged than he does right now, but with the same intense energy, smoking a cigarette as if the nasty habit didn’t take years off his life. A fact I shared with him to break the ice.

He doesn’t know it, but he was the first person to speak to me outside of my family and the employees. The first man to treat me like a human and not an inconvenience or a mistake.

Miraculously, life was less bland after that night.

I didn’t see him again until this morning, but things started to look up after meeting him.

I started to paint more, and Carlotta got me all I needed to do it when my parents denied me that much.

She also got me my first computer, which she later convinced my sisters that I needed for academic purposes and that it was our secret. I did use it to learn, but I also used it to write pen pal letters. A program to help anonymous people feel less alone. It worked.

From that night on, I didn’t feel so lonely, so I guess this man was my good luck charm back then. I don’t know about it now. The jury is still out on that one.

Although he didn’t seem threatening then, and he doesn’t feel that way now.

Noticing movement from the corner of my eye, I turn away from the window and watch as the man Riagan called Kelly steps out of the pilot’s cabin, walks to where Riagan is seated and says something in his ear then goes back to the cockpit.

“That’s rude.” I blurt out cause the silence and boredom are getting to me. I look at where Riagan is seated, scrolling on his phone.

“What is rude?” My eyes travel from his neck to his face and I watch him smile. When he smiles, one side of his mouth lifts higher than the other. Suddenly, it hits me that I’m in an airplane on my way to a new place with a super-hot, much older guy with ink-covered, tan muscles.

Swallowing hard, I tell him. “Secrets. Sharing secrets in front of other people is rude.”

His smile widens, and my stomach does a double flip. I watch as he places the phone down next to his gun without looking away from me. My heart slows for a second as he stays silent. What is he thinking? If he smiled, then he wouldn’t be mad at my comment, right? But I’ve seen men lash out with smiles on their faces. Why must humans be so confusing? That is why I prefer plants. They’re easy to comprehend. They only need water, light, and a gentle touch.

But don’t we all?

“You are right,” he says.

“I know I am,” I whisper.

He laughs again. Why is he laughing? I didn’t make a joke. “Secrets are rude. Although Kelly didn’t share a secret, sweetheart. He was letting me know that all is set for once we land.”

I frown. “You’re correct. That is not a secret. He could have just said it out loud.”

“He could have. Next time, I’ll make sure he does.”

“I am sorry.” I blurt out again. Jeez. Here we go. I’ll start to babble, and he’ll get annoyed. Ducking my head, turning my face, and looking out the window again, using it as a shield for what will undoubtedly come next.

“Mila.” His voice is commanding, yet hard and soft at the same time. How he does it, I do not know. “Look at me.” He commands gently.

It takes me a few seconds, but I do as he says. I try to look at him without bowing my head and letting my hair cover me from view like my ball cap used to do. My eyes meet his long enough for me to find warmth instead of anger or annoyance. That I am used to, but not warmth. Not from people who are not used to people like me. People that don’t fit in their perfect boxes.

“Don’t ever say sorry. Not to me. Not to anyone. Not for speaking or asking questions. You only say sorry when you hurt someone. Someone who does not deserve it, and sweetheart, you haven’t hurt me, so there is no need to say sorry. You want to spit facts all the way to the islands? You fucking do that, I am all ears. You want to stay in silence? We’ll do that. But what you won’t do is say sorry for being you.” After he is done, all I can do is sit there with my heart beating fast and my mind reeling from the words that just left his mouth. The people in my life are used to my quirkiness, and they even encourage me to just be me. But deep down, I know at times, they get frustrated, even if it’s just for a second. They’re humans, and they’re not perfect. I get it, but at times, I felt like they didn’t get me either. That I was alone in my uniqueness, and here this man is telling me to fully be myself and to never apologize for it.

I am left speechless.

I panic for a moment trying to find the right words, but I come up empty, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. The easier answer.

“Okay.” I track his movements as he grabs a pack of cigarettes from inside his shirt’s breast pocket, takes one cigarette out, and places it between his lips. Is he going to smoke here? Does he know that secondhand smoke kills?

I watch the cigarette between his lips when he says. “Okay.”

I guess that’s it.

So easy.

Nothing has ever been this simple.

It’s odd.

Before now, he hadn’t said much after we boarded the plane. Yes, answered my questions about Gus but vaguely. He told me all about how Gus, the man who has been my guard for years, is a double agent. I refuse to think of him as a rat, even if my sister will see it just like that. Gus was tasked to take care of me on both sides. By my sister, Kadra’s command, and Riagan.

There’s more to this story, and my mind won’t rest until I find out exactly what is going on.

There has to be more to it.

I’ll figure it out.

My eyes find him again. For a person who has trouble keeping eye contact, I sure find myself wanting to look at him more.

This is all so new…

So exciting and freeing.

I couldn’t do this before.

I was afraid, and now… here with him, I am not.

The plane shakes some more, but my nerves are long gone.

Riagan said he would offer me silence if that were what I wished but I do not.

I don’t mind his voice. I quite enjoy the sound of it and of his laugh.

I notice he is not one of those people who has to fill the silence with a random, basic conversation like what’s your favorite color? Instead, he breaks the silence after a while, “You like plants, Mila?” He mumbles with an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth while pointing at my right wrist, where I have a handcrafted bracelet with a small four-leaf clover charm on it. I made this bracelet for myself and one for Carlotta a couple of years ago.

Nodding, I look his way. “I do.” I brightly smile his way. “Do you?”

Grinning, he flicks a tattooed finger to his left underarm, where there is a tattoo of a three-leaf clover. “Yeah, sweetheart, I do.”

Interesting.

Giddy, I lean forward in my seat towards him. “Did you know the clover was associated with the Irish people after the druids were driven out of Ireland?” I know all about it. I made it my mission to learn as much as I can in case a day comes when I can’t anymore. Learning was difficult for me because all I knew was taught to me either by my sisters, Carlotta, or the internet since I was deprived of an education. Most people take the privilege of school and learning for granted, but I know what it feels like to look at a book and have no idea what it says or how shameful it feels to avoid conversation because you’re afraid that you don’t know what they do and you’ll get mocked for it.

So, I used the little resources I had because of my parents’ neglect and worked hard. I make it my mission to learn about everything and anything every hour of the day. I am always learning something, and plants? I am already an expert on them. I will toot my own horn.

“I did not know that Mila. Tell me more.” He says in a tone I can’t decipher.

What a strange feeling. My chest feels tight, and my belly flips as if every molecule in my body recognizes him. His voice.

Beaming, I do as he says.

And I tell him more all the way till we land in another place.

A magical place.

With this strange but familiar, at the same time, man.

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