Chapter 27 #2
Rosa studies me for a second. Then smiles.
“You have more fight than you realize. Maybe that’s why he chose you.
But threats won’t make me your enemy, Aria.
You call Cyan a monster. Maybe he is. But he’s the monster who keeps us alive.
I’ll check on your grandmother, not because you threaten me, but because I understand what she means to you,” she says.
Almost like a mother scolding and admiring in the same breath.
At that moment, my stomach betrays me, growling loud enough to break the silence. I ate nothing all day yesterday. How did I not notice the smell of food earlier?
“I made breakfast.” Rosa gestures toward the kitchen.
Wordlessly, I follow her in. Smelling jasmine tea drifting through the air.
On the table sits a spread straight out of memory–sesame bagels, cream cheese, guava jam, fresh fruit.
My favorites. I hesitate, but hunger wins.
I grab a bagel, smear it with cream cheese and jam, and take a bite as I move toward the windows.
From the corner of my eye, Rosa pours tea into a porcelain cup.
“You should sit, Aria. Do you take honey or brown sugar with your tea?”
I swallow and walk to the table. Rosa offers the cup.
I don’t take it. Instead, I reach for the pot, pouring my own.
The familiar scent rises—Artisan blended jasmine.
My one indulgence. Something I’d given up long ago so every spare penny could go toward Nonna’s care.
And now? I drop into a chair and sip, the sweetness of the jam lingering on my tongue.
Cyan is feeding me everything I’ve ever wanted, laying it out like a feast while keeping me caged in his world.
“Good morning,” Cyan’s deep voice murmurs in my ear.
I didn’t even hear him walk up behind me.
He places a kiss on my temple, a casual intimacy that I would have avoided if I saw him coming.
Memories of last night slam into me. I suppress a shudder, my stomach twisting.
I’m sure I’m blushing. What the hell am I doing?
Across the room, Rosa watches smiling. “Good morning, Cyan.” Rosa is all motherly scolding, hands on her hips. “Come sit and eat. I noticed you didn’t touch your dinner yesterday, so you’ll be finishing everything on your plate this morning.”
Rosa moves to the stove. The hint of butter and pepper fills the silence.
She plates eggs sunny-side up, seared tomatoes, thick-cut bacon, and grilled steak.
She walks over and sets the dish in front of him.
“You will not butter me up,” she reprimands, snapping her kitchen towel at him. “Eat it all.”
“Whatever you say, Rosa. You’re the boss.
” I blink. The boss? Cyan MacBrady, the ruthless, terrifying Capo of Boston, letting a woman half his size scold him?
I can’t reconcile this version of him with the one who blackmailed and caged me.
Rosa laughs, shaking her head. The sound feels almost normal.
Too normal. The kind that makes the walls of this house seem familiar.
The sound of the front doors opening breaks the illusion. Collin and Johnny stroll in.
Collin makes a beeline for the kitchen. “Good morning, Rosa. What’s for breakfast?”
Cyan cuts in, “You don’t live here. Go to your own house for breakfast.”
“Hell no, I don’t wanna live with you, bro. Been there, done that. But my house doesn’t have a Rosa, and that’s why I’m here.” He plants a dramatic kiss on her cheek before dropping into the chair across from Cyan.
“You’re a damn parasite.” Cyan points at him.
Rosa places a loaded plate in front of Collin, and then she hits Cyan with her kitchen towel. “Be nice to your brother,” Rosa chides before turning to Johnny. “Come sit and, son. I’m sure there’s room for more.”
Johnny takes a seat beside Cyan. “Ma, if I eat any more, I’ll burst. You left breakfast for me at home.”
Cyan taps the back of Johnny’s head. “Respect your mother. She says Eat, so you eat.” I freeze mid-sip. Wait... what? That’s why Rosa looked familiar. She’s Johnny’s mother.
“Thanks, Cyan,” Rosa sighs. “You are such a good boy.” I’m staring now, but I can’t stop. It feels wrong–this warmth wrapped around men who kill for a living.
“You’re not dreaming,” Collin leans in. He smirks, flashing one of his fake smiles. “So, Aria, how’s life at Le Chateau Cyan? Was my big brother a suitable host?”
“Obviously not,” Rosa interjects. “They didn’t even touch the Irish beef stew I made for their dinner yesterday.”
I’m biding my time, but that doesn’t mean I have to be nice to any of them. I clear my throat. “Being locked in a room against my will kill an appetite. But I’ll take some for lunch.”
Rosa’s smile fades. “Sometimes walls keep danger out as much as they keep you in, Aria.” Her gaze drifts toward Cyan, fondness flickering across her face before she looks back at me.
“He’s stubborn, but he does what he thinks is best, even if it feels like a cage.
Still, lunch sounds good. We’ll eat together. ”
I open my mouth to refuse, but Cyan leans in, his breath brushing my ear, voice low and steady.
“Don’t you dare. Give me all your anger; I can take it.
But don’t take it out on Rosa.” My jaw tightens.
I swallow the retort burning on my tongue.
Fine. I’ll play along. Better to keep my eyes open, my ears sharper.
Once I know where they’re keeping my Nonna, all bets are off.
“Nice, Aria,” Johnny says between bites of fruit.
“You just made Ma’s day. Feeding people is her love language.
” I grip my fork tighter. Great. Now I’m responsible for making his mother happy.
I bite down on my bagel with more force than necessary, reminding myself: play along, for now, forcing myself to chew.
The front door opens again. Troy and another man walk in.
The guy looks familiar, maybe because he resembles Troy—they both have the same build.
Troy steals a piece of bacon off Collin’s plate. Collin glares. “You’re lucky I like you, bastard.” Collin leans back in his chair, slapping at Troy’s hand as he tries to take another.
“Aria, you remember my little brother, Thomas?” Troy asks. Thomas is shorter, leaner, with skin tone closer to my own warm brown tone and no bright orange mohawk.
Thomas barely looks up from his phone. “Hey.”
“Hey, Thomas. Good morning.” I mutter before glancing at Troy, my tone turning sharp. “Yeah, I remember Troy. He was with you the night you shot at me.”
“You shot at her?” Rosa’s voice is deadly as she slaps Troy’s hand away from Collin’s plate. “You guys forgot to tell me about that detail.”
Troy sighs, unbothered. “Didn’t know that one over there was interested,” he jerks his chin toward Cyan.
Rosa shakes her head. “No wonder the poor girl’s jumpy around you lot.”
I take a slow sip of tea, I need to keep them talking. Every answer might be a clue, masking the rush of adrenaline beneath a calm voice. “So,” I ask casually, “you all live in the compound?”
“Yeah, we all do. Well, the ten fingers at least,” Collin answers.
I feel Cyan’s observant gaze before he cuts in. “The ten fingers? Are the ten that make up the Irish Fists, you’ll meet them all next Friday.”
Rosa turns to Thomas. “Make sure your wife is... well, I’m sure you know what I mean.”
Thomas looks up. “Yeah, Rosa. Lucilla will be at her best.” Another woman lives here. Another piece in Cyan’s world I don’t understand yet? Maybe she might help me.
Collin leans toward me, pulling me from my thoughts. “Our weekly family dinner. Rosa makes it an unmissable event.”
“This dinner is to welcome Aria.” Rosa levels a look at them. “We can’t have her thinking you boys weren’t raised right.” I nearly choke.
Cyan pushes his empty plate away. “We need to go. Aria has work.”
My head snaps up. Wait... what? I thought he told my boss I wasn’t coming in. Cyan, reading my thoughts speaks up.
“I found a compromise. You’ll work on your project from the Crescent Bay office…
remember you must behave, Dove, or you’ll be saying bye-bye to J if that’s all right with you.
” Her tone is amiable, but I catch the way her eyes stay on me.
She’s watching, waiting for me to refuse.
Rosa knows things. Maybe if I play along, she’ll let something slip, like where Cyan’s keeping my Nonna.
I force a small smile. “Sure thing, Rosa. I’ll see you later for dinner.”
“Thanks for breakfast, Rosa. As usual, it was delicious.” Cyan kisses her cheek, a rare softness in his voice.
“You’re going?” Rosa asks, her brows knitting together.
Cyan nods. “I have to return to Boston and meet up with the others. Need to handle the police and plan for Chester’s burial.”
Rosa’s face falls. “I wish we could give him a proper send-off,” her tone thick with sorrow.
Cyan’s jaw tightens. “After this is over, we will have a proper memorial service. But right now, it isn’t safe.”
Rosa nods, then kisses his cheeks, hugging Cyan tight.
“You all better be here on Friday.” Cyan nods, and Rosa turns away.
But I don’t miss the way her fingers tremble as she reaches up and wipes at her eyes.
She’s seeming worried, and that brings a twists to my chest. This man, this monster, has people who love him.
People who grieve beside him. Emotions prick at me sharp, and unwelcome.
I resent that Cyan’s grief looks real, that Rosa’s tears look honest
Cyan tilts his head toward me. “Come on, I’ll drop you off at the office.
” Following him out. As we step into the hall, Johnny falls in beside us, ever my silent shadow.
But as I glance back at the kitchen, I catch Collin and Troy fighting over bacon like actual brothers.
It feels as if I’m watching a sitcom. If sitcoms came with guns beneath the table. ..
This is a family, a twisted, violent, criminal family–but a family nonetheless, and Cyan’s the centre they all orbit around.
I’ll play along, smile when needed, nod when expected. The second I learn where my Nonna is, I’m running, and not even Cyan fucking MacBrady will stop me.