Mila: The Godfather (Unholy Trinity Book 7)
Mila: The Godfather: Part 2 – Chapter 50

RIAGAN

“The shit I do for her.” – R

“Here he is,” The lady, Lany, I think that’s what she said her name was, announces happily as she enters the room with a small Golden Retriever on the end of a green leash. The small dog approaches me cautiously when I kneel in front of him. Wide brown eyes, tail down, and a bit guarded, yet he lets me pet his small head. 

He’s shy.

I can tell by how he looks up at me cautiously, not barking up a storm like the other dogs did to grab my attention.

Every reservation I had before entering the pet store disappears when I touch his soft fur. “You’re a handsome little fuck.”

A giggle makes me look up at the lady and find her smiling down at us. 

“His name is Bruno.” Lany says.

Bruno. 

Don’t think there’s a Bruno in the clan. “Bruno.” The small dog licks my hand playfully. “Oh, you’re a clever one, huh?” 

“He’s a super nice boy. A little shy at first, but he’s not used to his surroundings. It’s hard for older dogs to adjust to such an upheaval. As much as we try to make them happy and comfy here, it’s still so scary for them.” I detect a bit of sadness in her tone. I bet. 

While I was researching the perfect dog, or perfect fit for me, at least, I came across a bit of information and statistics on how many dogs are abandoned daily in the United States and how a lot of those dogs who end up being put up for adoption take a little time to get comfortable. 

I chose this particular store because they not only find homes for pure breeds but for stray dogs as well. 

The dog, Bruno, relaxes as I pet him, easing himself into a sitting position and offering me his paw to shake. Laughing, I take his furry paw in my hand and bob it up and down. He wags his tail and offers me his other paw.

“You want to come home with me?” I ask the dog, gently rubbing his head. “Get spoiled? Run free?” He licks my hand, as if he’s telling me ’yes’, then he puts his leg over his eyes, almost as if he’s shy.

And it reminds me of her.

I came here for her, and now I’m leaving as the owner of a dog. 

One whose fur is the same shade as the hair I constantly dream about at night.

Woof. 

The tiny pup removes his leg from his eyes, sticks his tongue out and falls back on the floor. 

Sweet and dramatic.

I’m sold. 

Thirty minutes later, I’m speeding home with an overly excited pup scratching his balls inside my Porsche.

***

The memory of when I first met Bruno comes to mind as I watch a nervous Mila focus all her attention on Bruno, who is lazily napping on her lap. I got the damn dog a couple of months ago, and originally, I was aiming for a guard dog, but then I saw Bruno lying on the mat, away from the rest of the dogs, and it tugged at my heart. The little happy fucker reminding me so much of her. I was sold the moment he put his tiny paw in my hand. So sweet. So smart. Fuck, I was gone for him too. Now seeing the two of them together and witnessing Mila’s joy, I don’t regret leaving that shelter with the little guy.

All he needed was a home and a little bit of love.

Tenderness.

Just like my wife.

Wife.

Mine.

Half an hour later, it still feels like I am dreaming, and this is all a figment of my fucked-up imagination. How else would I explain someone as good as her saying yes to a man like me? To this life I lead.

But here she is, next to me, trying her best to fit in with my men and my family. I am not oblivious to her anxiety. She has tapped the silverware repeatedly since we sat down at the table, yet she hasn’t cowered or ran away when the attention is directed at her.

Not my girl.

Maeve has directed the conversation toward her a couple of times to make her feel included and has made sure to not overwhelm her either. I appreciate that.

I appreciate all of them making an effort for me.

For her.

Every single member of the clan is loud and outgoing, none of them shy. There’s no room for that here, but for her, we make an exception because that is, who she is and that is exactly who they’ll respect.

She’s perfect just the way she is, and I can tell by the gentle look in the eyes of not just Maeve and Kelly but Da too.

After we said I do, we moved toward the dining room, where Da had a dinner set up to celebrate the occasion.

When there’s something to celebrate in our family, we do it with drinks and food.

Irish alcohol, to be exact.

Looking at my beautiful wife, I smile when I notice that, even though she’s busy playing with the dog, she’s also paying attention to the conversation. She’s trying. Fuck me, so sweet.

Reaching under the table, I grab her hand and squeeze it, and once she looks away from the dog and at me, I wink at her, loving the way pink colors her cheeks. With my hand still holding on to hers, I rise from my seat and pick up my whiskey with my free hand. “Thank you.” I look at my father, then at Maeve, and lastly, Kelly. “Thank you for being here for us.” Clearing my throat, I then direct my words toward my wife. Looking down at her, my heart starts to beat fast when she grabs my hand tightly as if she needs me for comfort too. “This woman here.” My woman. “This is my wife, and you will protect her with your life. Treat her as an extension of me. I trust that you will not only make her feel safe in your presence but include her in your conversations. You will treat her with the respect she deserves as not just a human but as my wife. The wife of your captain.” Mila’s eyes widen at the same time as her thumb traces the ink on my hand. “You make sure everyone inside and outside these walls does as well. No one hurts her. No one makes her feel less than perfect.” My eyes leave Mila and move toward Kelly and Maeve, who quietly sit, listening. “And if you do, I’ll treat it as treason to your captain. To this family.” I threaten. Looking at my father next, I make sure he knows that not even blood is safe.

No one.

We’re not in paradise anymore, away from the world where I can keep her fully to myself.

We’re in my world now.

Where her life is in danger every hour of the day, but she has me.

She has this city behind her.

She’s no longer the forgotten princess.

No.

She’s now the heart of this O’Sullivan clan.

The queen of not only my fucked-up heart but this city.

My Philly.

Mila

I’ve been by myself for so long that I’ve never gotten used to being around people for long periods of time. I’ve enjoyed the quiet so much that, at times, the presence of other people gives me anxiety or makes me feel out of place. I’m constantly trying to keep up with their social cues, and I try really hard to understand their jokes and think twice about what I’m going to say not to offend them in any way.

It’s exhausting. It really is, but not with Riagan and not with his people, apparently.

They’re… loud. Very loud, and they all have big personalities.

They fit so well with each other, and all through dinner, it hasn’t escaped me how they’ve tried to include me in their conversations.

Not once have I felt left out or uncomfortable.

Then, Riagan stood up and said all those things.

Those words that made my stomach do a flip and my heart skip many, many beats.

 “This woman here. This is my wife, and you will protect her with your life. Treat her as an extension of me. I trust that you will not only make her feel safe in your presence but include her in your conversations. You will treat her with the respect she deserves as not just a human but as my wife. The wife of your captain. You make sure everyone inside and outside these walls does as well. No one hurts her. No one makes her feel less than perfect. And if you do, I’ll treat it as treason to your captain. To this family.”

He said all that to his friends and his father.

People he has known longer than he has me, yet he threatened them for… me.

I feel eyes on me, and when I look away from Riagan and to my left, I find Riagan’s father staring at me. Usually, when someone stares at me for too long, I feel not only uncomfortable but this sinking feeling in my chest. The same feeling makes me want to hide but I don’t feel that now. Haven’t felt it for a while. Since Detroit, actually.

Trying to hold the man’s stare for as long as I’m physically able to, I offer him a smile. I might have trouble expressing my emotions and following social cues most times, but I did master ’normal’ social manners.

Mr. O’Sullivan holds out his hand with a smile of his own. I notice how alike father and son are, even if the older man does look a bit sick. Both men are tall, with light brown hair and sky-blue eyes. Both handsome, confident, and by the looks of it, a charming personality.

Staring at Riagan’s father is like looking at an older version of my husband.

My husband.

I still haven’t wrapped my head around it.

I’m married.

Legally bound to a man I didn’t know until a week ago.

“Mr. O Sullivan,” I say in a small voice, still processing all that has happened in the last couple of hours and all that Riagan said just moments before.

“Cathan, please. We’re family now.”

Cathan’s eyes were kind, but like his son, his demeanor was chilling. He has an air that screams he’s done and seen things that would give me nightmares. I still remember the things some of the men that worked for my father and now for my sister whispered about the boss of Philadelphia. The one before Riagan.

As if Cathan could read my mind, his smile widens a bit, but the look in his eyes remains the same. Gentle. “My son is not only my heart, but he is also my greatest accomplishment. My joy.” I wasn’t sure what to say, so I remained quiet and let him get what he clearly wanted to say off his chest. “The way he smiled today, I haven’t seen him smile that way since he was a young boy, and you gave him that, darling. You gave me that.” Cathan makes a move as if he wants to touch my hand but stops himself before he does. I wonder why? “I don’t know how much he has told you about me or my current situation…”

“You’re sick.” I whisper, ignoring the chatter around us and focusing only on Riagan’s father.

“I am.”

“I am sorry.”

His eyes look sad, but his smile remains. How odd. He is clearly in pain. Both physically and emotionally. How can he smile as if he’s okay? I guess most people do just that. Smile to hide their pain. That, I can understand well. “Nothing to be sorry about, darling. I’ve had a good run.”

“He loves you.” I blurt out. “Riagan loves you very much. He’s even completing your wish list.”

Cathan clears his throat and looks at me as if he knows something I do not. “He loves you too.”

“I don’t know ab—” I mumble a denial, but he interrupts me.

“He does. I see the way he looks at you. How his entire face lights up when he sees you smile. Never has he smiled as big as he did today. That I’m sure you noticed during your time with my son.”

“How does he look at me?”

“Like I used to look at his mother.” He replies instantly, and I sense no anger or sadness in his tone. Nothing. “He looks at you, Mila, like a man who is willing to take on the world for his woman. For you.”

The heart inside my chest somehow manages to slow down, and all I can hear is Cathan’s words, and all I can feel is the rapid beat of my heart, plus a thousand butterflies causing a storm in my stomach. “Welcome to the family, sweetheart. About damn time.” Cathan raises his glass of water and grins before taking a sip.

Bruno licks my palm, trying to catch my attention. Looking down at the sweet boy, I run my fingers through his soft fur and smile softly at him. I used to prefer the company of animals and my plants over people. But then Riagan entered my life and turned my world upside down in the most beautiful and special way. Raising my head when Kelly laughs out loud at something Cathan says, and Maeve joins them, I can’t help but look at Riagan, and I’m not surprised to find him already staring at me.

Even when we’re surrounded by other people, he’s always looking at me. It both excites and scares me, all in a good way.

The best way.

Just with one look, he makes the world stop when it gets too loud.

He makes the chaos in my head bearable when it gets to be too much.

He loves you too. Riagan’s father’s words replay in my mind while I hold his son’s stare. I study the softness in his face that I’ve only ever seen when it came to me. Even when he was staring at his father or Maeve, he always stares with a look that you couldn’t quite tell if he liked you or not. In my case, I knew that he liked me. At least, now that I knew how to read him really well, I did.

A warm feeling, one I only get when he looks at me, spreads in my chest. These newfound feelings frightened me. Frightened me so much that I found myself constantly overthinking every little thing he did and said because nothing could ever hurt more than having my heart broken by him. Yet, I push my fears away because, as much as my feelings for my husband scare me, one thing is for sure…

Nothing frightens me more than not having him at all.

More than losing him because I’m scared to give myself to someone else.

To give my heart away.

But it’s not really my heart anymore, is it?

It’s his.

That warm fuzzy feeling in my chest expands, and I smile. Smile because I’m genuinely happy. At this moment, with the people who care most about him, I’m overjoyed. “Riagan.” I lean forward so he can hear me over the noise around us.

“Yes, wife?” His smile widens, and my heart skips a beat. In the past week, I’ve seen some of the most beautiful sights of nature. Yet, nothing compares to his smile. Nothing.

Wife.

His wife.

That’s who I am now.

Reaching under the table, I grab his hand and look into his eyes. I make myself hold his stare for as long as I can, then I give him another truth. You make me happy when happiness has always been fleeting to me. You make me smile just by being by my side. You make my heart do weird things I’m still not sure I quite understand. You’ve become my favorite part of the day.

I think all of this, yet I’m too scared to admit it aloud. Instead, I tell him. “I’m lucky to have met you.” Too embarrassed to hold his gaze any longer, my eyes fall to his lips as I try to slow down the beating of my heart. It feels as if it wants out of my body to get to him. To his owner.

“I’m the lucky one, butterfly.” Then, he does something I’ve only seen in movies and read in books.

He lifts our joint hands and brings them to his mouth, kissing my hand gently.

My breath hitches, and my heart loses control.

I’m the lucky one.

No.

He doesn’t see it, but I do.

I’m the one lucky to have met this man, who every day turns out to be so much more than his ink, name, and the blood he has spilled.

So much more, and now he’s mine.

At least for as long as it lasts.

I think of forever.

I wish… I wish I could keep him forever.

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