Mila: The Godfather (Unholy Trinity Book 7)
Mila: The Godfather: Part 1 – Chapter 36

RIAGAN

“His laugh is my favorite melody.” – M

I don’t remember the precise moment my obsession with butterflies started. All I really remember is my mother always wearing a butterfly brooch on special occasions. A gift from her mother. I found out later from my father.

I guess my young mind held onto that one little detail of my mother in a desperate attempt not to forget her. Not that I ever could.

She’s everywhere.

In the stars, in the wind. Hell, in every beat of my heart.

As I grew older, I began to see those damn butterflies everywhere. The pretty blue ones would appear whenever I was having a shitty day all through the most recent one. On the day Da revealed his battle with a disease that is threatening to take him from me, a butterfly appeared out of fucking nowhere.

Fuck.

I can’t lose him too.

Funny how I haven’t thought about the shit that awaits me back in Philly once since arriving here with the girl currently looking like a mythical creature in her long white summer dress that’s almost see-through and her wild curls falling around her face, free of any make-up.

Tonight, she looks like an angel.

My angel, to be precise.

Here in my space, surrounded by exotic flowers and wild butterflies.

“You know… I am starting to believe this is all a figment of my imagination. I think all those romance books I’ve read have made me lose touch with reality.” Mila laughs softly. Her laugh is sweet and melodic. I noticed her cheeks have turned rosy. I find it endearing.

She also needs to understand that nothing about us is a dream. Nothing.

She’s done dreaming.

Done experiencing life through her sister’s eyes.

From now on, there’s no need for her to just dream.

All her wishes, goals, and aspirations will become a reality.

Stepping closer to where she’s standing, frozen at the threshold of this small glass house in the back of the main mansion. “It’s real, sweetheart.” As real as you and me.

The sound of my voice seems to have startled her, making me think she spaced out and forgot I was here with her. I’ve noticed she does that a lot. When she finds something fascinating or when she gets bored and uninterested in the subject at hand, she loses herself somewhere inside her head.

I find that I don’t mind it. Not one bit.

“Sometimes it’s difficult for me to discern reality since I’ve been hoping and dreaming for so long.” Mila moves around, touching everything in her path as if she’s making sure she’s here and it’s not a dream.

Her words hit me like an arrow straight to the heart. Not an arrow, no. Something more painful, like a fucking ax.

“You’re here.” I clear my throat once before speaking again. “You’re here with me.” I don’t take my eyes off her and wait for her reaction. A small smile. That’s all she gives me.

And that’s all I really need.

While I was having the beach mansion remodeled, I made sure to have a butterfly conservatory added next to the garden. It’s more like a glass house. One that cost me a pretty penny.

I used to mock some of my men for acting pussy-whipped over women, but I gave a whole other meaning to the word. I’ve been slowly changing my entire goddamn life for her.

I’ve never really been a holy man, not really.

But I started believing in a bigger presence. A being of light and all that is good because how the fuck could I not? When someone like Mila exists in this world. Someone so pure and so good to her core.

Not tainted by the harsh cruelty of the world.

Someone who smiles despite the many challenges she faces every day, not only because of her disability but also the life she was born into. One of chaos and carnage for the sake of power and money.

“You like butterflies, too?” she says, smiling at a butterfly that landed on her shoulder.

Another butterfly nears her and lands on top of her head, making Mila laugh, which, in turn, makes me smile. “I do.”

Do I like butterflies? Not particularly. I don’t hate them, but they’re just bugs to me. Bugs both my mother and her enjoy watching and learning about, so I became interested in finding out all there was about them because she likes them. A lot.

I also enjoy the look on her face every time she finds out we share something in common.

So yes, if I must learn every fucking name of every butterfly in existence just to watch her smile. I will.

Hell, I did.

Mila remains quiet for a moment, then she slowly turns her head my way and offers me a soft smile over her shoulder before going back to looking around. I watch quietly as she does, contemptuous to just stand back and watch the world through her eyes.

Because that’s what I’ve been doing lately.

Watching the world through Mila Parisis eyes, and let me tell you, it’s a fucking beautiful world.

How she sees it.

Before, I only saw ugly, but now? Because of her? I got glimpses of what I was missing before she came along.

Magic. Fucking magic.

And that’s the main reason why I took it upon myself to insert myself in her life however I could.

Bain.

Carlotta, her very kind caretaker, and very much like Bain, my employee.

And the emails.

It wasn’t enough that I had a man and Carlotta with her, but I went ahead and wrote her letters under the guise of fucking pen pals. I needed to know more about her. I wanted to learn for myself the things she didn’t share with anyone else.

It all started so innocently and easily, until it wasn’t.

Until she went from a curious young girl who reminded me of my mother. A girl I only wished to keep safe and for her to not feel so fucking lonely in that house of horror, and then she grew up and the lines started blurring.

That’s when the letters stopped.

I backed away, and it only served to fuck with my head more.

Because I found myself missing her.

Her stories.

Her words.

Just her.

Her essence.

And now she is here.

Right before me. I sometimes doubt this is real, and I’m terrified I’ll wake up to a world she’s not part of.

“So, you like butterflies…” Mila interrupts my thoughts as she comes closer. I didn’t notice her turn around completely, so she is now facing me. At the same time, the butterfly on her shoulder flies away, and the one that was on her head lands on the tip of her nose. I watch with a smile on my face as Mila tries her best to remain stoic, trying not to spook the butterfly, but after a few seconds, the bug takes flight. I chuckle softly when Mila waves at the butterfly and then playfully narrows her eyes at me, making me grin. And here you thought you had no sense of humor, sweetheart. You’re the funniest person I know. That’s saying a lot since I find most people tedious and corny. “Okay, then. Tell me something about them.”

My grin widens when I realize she’s being playful and trying to figure out if she believes me. Good.

As much as I enjoy her shy and sweet side, I am starting to become addicted to the way she is slowly coming out of her shell and getting comfortable with me enough to call me out on my bullshit if need be.

Mila’s eyes skitter to my eyes, then immediately look down to my neck, where I have a few butterflies inked.

“Did you know butterflies can see colors that we cannot?” I step closer to her until I’m able to smell her sweet and intoxicating vanilla scent. That close. Dangerously close. She doesn’t step away or give me any indication that she feels uncomfortable. Still, I try not to crowd her.

She nods, still staring at my neck. “I do, yet that is a common fact. What is this one called?” She points towards a butterfly with bright orange wings.

“Gulf fritillary.” I answer while staring at the medium-sized, bright orange with brown insect speckled with silvery white dots. “Also known as Passion Butterfly.”

From the corner of my eye, I watch her top lip twitch. “And that one?” I follow her pointed finger to where another butterfly is resting on top of a yellow flower.

“The Pierid.” I don’t hesitate.

“I must admit I don’t have much knowledge about that one.” She looks up at me expectantly. “What else do you know about it?” Her curiosity and thirst for knowledge are adorable-as-fuck.

If she wants to know more about the insect, I’ll oblige. “Do you see how she’s resting with her wings open?”

“Yes…” Mila leans closer to me, and I take the opportunity to reach forward and play with a strand of her hair. I find comfort in playing with her silky curls.

Twirling the curl around my index finger, I speak again. “The shutting of wings offers protection from predators as its appearance resembles that of a leaf.”

“That’s very clever.” The look in her eyes is of pride. This girl is proud of a damn insect.

Smiling down at her, I grunt in response.

“Riagan…”

“Yes, butterfly?”

A grin forms on my face when I notice her sharp intake of breath.

“I quickly become obsessed with things. It’s part of my condition.” She turns her face to the right and looks up at me. “I hope my asking questions doesn’t bother you. I tend to soak up all the knowledge I can when something really interests me. It’s something I’ve done since I was a child. Please tell me when you’ve had enough of my inquisitiveness.”

The way she says it feels as if, somehow, she’s apologizing for being herself, and it only pisses me off because I know her need to apologize comes from a place of fear of being judged.

Taking a deep breath, I try not to sound as angry as I feel right now. “Nothing you do bothers me, sweetheart. Let’s start there. So, you go ahead and ask all the questions you want. I like listening to your voice.” I tell her bluntly. I tend to speak freely, and I never play games. I say things how I see them. And when I want something I go for it. Whatever it takes, and what I want is the tiny fairy girl looking up at me with a soft look on her pretty face.

“You do?” she asks, genuinely curious and completely oblivious to the hold she has on me already, without even a single kiss. That’s how dangerous Mila Parisi is to my sanity.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I do.”

Then she blushes.

Her soft cheeks turn a light pink color hypnotizing me more than I already am. “Will you tell me more? About butterflies, I mean.” Her gentle eyes meet mine for only a second, before they fall to my lips. With the way she looks at me. So trusting and sweet. She could ask for my balls on a silver platter, and I would give them to her.

But for now, I will do as she asked.

I spend twenty or so minutes sharing all the shit I researched about butterflies, and she stands quietly beside me, listening with a tender smile on her face. That smile. The smile that turns my world on its axis.

“Mila.”

“Yes, Riagan?”

Riagan.

The way she says my name.

So proper and so sensual at the same time. She has no fucking clue, and that makes her even more enticing to me.

“How do you know so much about butterflies?” I ask while we move toward the butterfly bushes, which are located next to a small waterfall fountain I had installed last year. It was the last touch the glass-house-slash-butterfly-conservatory needed to be perfect. Perfect for her.

Once there, she takes me by surprise when she absently reaches out and touches my wrist. Once. Twice. Three times.

I watch her in fascination as she does it, and on the third, she pulls away, and actually looks like she was relieved to have done it.

Mila is a creature of habit, balance, and structure. She has things she does that might seem odd to most people, but to her, it offers some sort of comfort. It grounds her.

“I like butterflies,” she admits. “I like watching them fly around the garden back home.”

I grin. “All right then, tell me why you like them so much.”

And so, she does. She talks about it for a good, long ten minutes before she frowns and stops in the middle of a sentence.

“Butterflies have the ability to tell time and track…what?” I push.

She frowns. “I didn’t mean to go on and on about it.”

Poking her nose, I tell her. “Mila, if I had a problem with what we were talking about, I would’ve said something.” Even if I did have a problem, I would rather shoot myself in the face with my gun than to hurt her feelings.

She seems to think about that for a long moment, and then nods once.

“I’m going to culinary school,” she randomly says.

I blink. Of course, she will. “Hell yeah, you are.”

She looks up at me and she beams.

Beams so bright.

And I realize I’d give anything to see that look on her face.

Anything.

Stepping closer until our lips are inches apart, I look down at her as she looks up at me with that smile on her face that drives me wild. My chest, all of a sudden, feels too tight.

Without thinking twice, I grab her by her small waist and gently pull her to my chest, watching her eyes grow big, and her hands come up to my chest, tapping it repeatedly.

And it takes me back to the time my mother used to touch my chest gently, so I could feel her love, asking me to keep her there.

And right then, while surrounded by butterflies and holding the sweet and addicting girl in my arms, I wonder if the fucking stars aligned the day we crossed paths or if my mother sent her to me when I became cold and started drifting from her life.

Staring at her face, I focus on her lips and make a choice.

One that will change everything.

I will push her to see what’s right in front of her.

“Butterfly, I have a problem.” I caress her cheek gently, thrilled with the way she shivers at my touch.

“W-what?” She breathes out, concerned.

“I can’t be your friend.” Her pretty blue eyes meet mine for a second and instantly turn sad, shooting daggers through my heart. Say it. Do it. “I can’t be your fucking friend because friends Mila… they don’t dream, day and night, about doing what I’m going to do to you next.”

“Wha–” she’s not able to finish her sentence because the next thing I know, I’m dropping my head and taking her lips in mine.

I kiss the fuck out of her. I kiss her so hard. I hope that, with this kiss, she realizes that I can’t just be her friend.

Because I want more.

I want to be the sole reason she breathes.

Her reason to wake up in the morning and smile.

Because fucking psychotic and stalkerish behavior or not… she’s that to me and so much more.

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