36. Brando
36
brANDO
M ia stands before me, like a siren in distress. Her black dress hugs her in all the right places, her black heels pulling the look together and making her look sexy as all fuck. My blue eyes lock on hers, and in this moment, time stands still. The world outside does not exist, Frank Falcone tied to a chair glaring at us is a non-issue, and the pain dwelling in our hearts is a figment of our imagination we wish to wash away.
“Mia.” I breathe out her name like a curse, a prayer on my lips. Years of pent-up longing and lust surge through my veins like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending in its wake. Tonight is ours, tonight I’ll reclaim what was rightfully mine in front of the one that deprived me of her for ten long years.
Mia's breath hitches as she lets my gaze consume her entire being. The flames in my eyes dance with desire and possession as I stalk towards her like a predator closing in. I stop mere inches from where she stands frozen in place, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest that I can almost hear it as it explodes all around me.
“You’ve always been mine,” I growl against her ear before capturing her mouth in a searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt or denial. Her body melts into mine as if it has always been there, two long-lost puzzle pieces finally finding each other once more. My hands roam over her curves hungrily, memorizing each dip and curve as if I might lose her again.
Without breaking contact with her feverish gaze, I slam her back against the cold glass wall of the empty shop and hike up her dress just enough to reveal the wet patch against her panties. Always ready and waiting for me.
There’s something so surreal about doing this in front of the animal who desecrated us. The man who shit all over the memory of us in the name of some twisted vengeance. And even though I know he never really loved Mia – because what man would have her in the palm of his hand and just walk away from her – there’s something cleansing about this one last ‘fuck you’ that we’re giving him. It may be a little depraved, but this is what Mia wants. This is what she needs. She wants to take back her power from him, and who am I to tell her how she needs to get her closure? She is her own person, and she knows what she wants. What she needs. And I’ll do whatever it takes to rid her of the memory of Frank Falcone once and for all. It’s the least I can do.
I push her up against the glass and press my body into hers. My dick twitches. I roll down my fly without bothering to drop my pants and let my dick escape the confines of my boxers. I pull her panties to the side and spear her with one quick slide into her warmth. I nuzzle into her neck, her heated desire spurring me on. I slam into her again and again, her body lifting against the glass as my hands cling possessively to her waist.
“Harder,” she whispers, although I know she’s loud enough for Frank to hear. “Fuck me harder, Brando.”
I whip her around so that my back is now against the glass and I’m facing Frank. This is not a fuck you if I’m not sticking it in his face. I meet his eyes, silently telling him all the things he will know shortly, if he doesn’t already. Mia was always mine. She was always meant to be mine. She chose me. She chose me then and she chose me now. She will always choose me. Now and forever. She’s mine. And mine alone.
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he stares through me, the stench of defeat heavy in the air. His defeat. He lost the final battle, and he lost it to me. That failure alone ought to kill him.
I grind into Mia, harder, faster, her moans filling the room. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, they slide down my back. They’re everywhere, all over me as she pants through her orgasm and I give her one last thrust before I roar through my own climax.
When we’re done, she slides slowly down my body, even as our lips are locked in a scorching kiss. I will never get enough of this woman. It will never be enough that she’s with me. I want to be inside her, around her, on top of her. I just want to be everywhere and everything she is. I want these magical moments every minute of every day for the rest of our lives.
I watch as she rights her clothes, then as she walks on wobbly feet toward Frank and stops in front of him. She surprises me when she lifts her dress up her thighs, and it’s all I can do to stop from throwing myself at her so the mongrel doesn’t get to see any piece of her. She looks down at her thighs, directing Frank’s gaze there.
“You see Brando’s come rolling down my thighs?” she asks him. “One of these days, he’s going to put a baby inside me. And the world will be a better place for that baby to grow up in without you in it.”
Scar joins us, his presence formidable as he surveys the scene with a critical eye.
“You really did a number on him,” he says, as he looks at Frank’s body lying on the concrete slab. He looks from me to Mia, then back at me again. “Whose handiwork was this?”
Mia is quick to lift her hand, and I’ve never been prouder of her. I never wanted this life for her, but ever since she came back into my life, I’ve felt like there’s something holding her back. Some deep, dark trauma that she couldn’t let go of. But today, something shifted and that trauma is now nonexistent. I already feel the weight off her past disembarking from her shoulders. She’s lighter, happier, completer. I don’t know how much of that is due to the fact that Frank is no longer a breathing entity, but I can safely say that his departure from this world is for the greater good.
If I’m proud of Mia, Scar looks at her with a newfound respect as he inspects the damage to the man who brought so much chaos into our lives.
“What happened here?” he asks, looking at the place where his eye socket used to be.
“My heel fell into his eye,” Mia explains, and Scar raises his eyebrows in surprise then shakes his head, before he lifts the cloth and covers Frank, burying even the memory of him.
“I think it’s time for another family dinner,” Scar says casually, his eyes studying Mia carefully. “Allegra would love to see you, and I know baby Scarlett is dying to meet her Godmother.”
Mia freezes. The words don’t immediately register, but the weight of them gradually sinks in, leaving her blinking in confusion. This is news even to me.
“What?” It’s her turn to look surprised now. She feels the sudden shift in the air, like a quiet shift of tectonic plates beneath her feet. A part of her is unsure if she heard him right. “Godmother? Me?”
“Don’t tell her I told you, or Allegra will kill me,” he mutters under his breath, making an exaggerated, playful face.
Mia’s breath catches, and I see her heart skip a beat. The look in her eyes—mixed with disbelief and something deeper—tells me this is the last thing she expected. I wonder if she realizes just how much this conversation means. She wasn’t there when Allegra made the decision, when she looked at Mia and saw someone more than just a protector of her own sisters. Someone she wanted in that role for her daughter.
“Why would she want me to be the Godmother?” Mia’s voice is tight, hesitant. She can’t quite mask the edge of nervousness that creeps into her words. “She doesn’t even know me.”
I let out a low laugh, shaking my head in mock disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” I say with a bit more disbelief than I intend. “I think Allegra secretly wishes your kickass moves will rub off on Scarlett. She’s in awe of you, Mia.”
Mia’s expression falters, the gears in her mind working overtime as she tries to process what I’ve just said. She’s taken aback, clearly struggling to connect the dots. The idea that Allegra would see her as a role model for a child, let alone want her as a godmother, doesn’t sit right with her. It’s overwhelming. I get it. I’ve seen Mia—she’s been the protector of her sisters, the one who always had to be strong. And that’s been her role for so long, she’s never really let herself imagine she could be anything more than that.
I see the vulnerability she tries to hide, the self-doubt creeping into her gaze. She’s always been the fighter, the one who shoulders responsibility, and she doesn’t know what it’s like to be seen as someone nurturing, someone who can guide and care in a way that isn’t about survival. I’ve watched her take on burdens, one after another. It’s not that she doesn’t want to give, but the thought of nurturing—of being vulnerable enough to open her heart like that—it scares her. And that fear, it’s what makes me want to tell her how I see her. To show her that she’s more than just the walls she’s built around herself.
I take a step closer, then reach out to take her hand. The movement is simple, but it feels important. Our fingers entwine, and I hold her hand steady as we begin to walk out of the empty mall, the muted hum of fluorescent lights hanging above us. The air between us is heavy with everything left unsaid.
I glance at two of our soldiers, giving them a nod. “Take out the trash,” I mutter, and they turn to do the job, fading into the background.
I turn my attention back to Mia, my tone low, sincere. “You’ll always be there when it counts, Mia. Allegra sees that. She knows you’d lay yourself down for those you care about. That’s the kind of person she wants to be there for Scarlett. Someone who knows what it means to protect. Someone who won’t hesitate when it matters.”
She’s quiet for a long time after I speak, her expression unreadable. I can tell my words are weighing heavily on her, and it doesn’t take much to figure out that she’s still processing it all. I know her well enough to know she doesn’t want to be soft. She’s always been hard on the outside, a shield. She’s been the one to fight and protect, not the one to nurture or give care. She’s never really seen herself as anything other than that role. It’s the role she’s clung to for so long. To her, being a protector is something expected of her. Not something she chose.
But I see something in her that she doesn’t even recognize in herself. The ability to give, not just to fight. And deep down, I know she would make an incredible Godmother—someone Scarlett could look up to, not because she’s perfect, but because of the strength, the loyalty, the fierce protection she gives those she loves.
She looks down at her hands, twisting the sleeve of her shirt nervously. She’s still unsure, still not ready to take that step. “I never thought of myself that way,” she admits quietly, almost to herself. Her voice is soft, the vulnerability there, raw. “I mean, I protect my sisters, but I never thought of myself as… someone people would look up to. I always just did what I had to.”
I pause, considering my words carefully before speaking again. My voice softens, the weight of the conversation shifting. “That’s the thing, Mia,” I say. “You don’t have to be anything other than who you are. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about the fact that when things get tough, you’re there. And that means more than anything. Allegra knows that. She knows you’ll be that kind of presence in Scarlett’s life—someone who’ll teach her the value of strength, loyalty, and what it means to stand up for the people you love.”
There’s a silence between us then, thick and full of unspoken thoughts. I don’t push her further, don’t offer more words, because I know she needs time to process. She’s never been good at accepting what she deserves, and this—this Godmother talk—is something deeper than just family obligations. It’s about trusting herself to be more than just a protector. But I know Mia, and I know she’ll come around in time. She has more to give than she’s willing to admit.
Mia finally meets my gaze again. It’s like something’s shifted in her, though she still looks uncertain. Her lips curl into a small, almost uncertain smile. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of responsibility,” she admits, her voice softer now, the uncertainty still there but not as sharp. “But… I guess we’ll see.”
I nod, my expression softening, and for the first time, I see her open up just a little. She’s not running from it anymore. She’s considering it. And for Mia, that’s progress.
She takes a deep breath, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She’s thinking about Allegra. About Scarlett. About the future. I know she’s still scared, but for the first time in a long time, she’s not as afraid of what stepping into that role could mean. Not because she has it all figured out, but because, deep down, she knows she doesn’t need to. All she has to do is show up—and that might just be enough.