15. Mia
15
MIA
I chose a cafe to meet my father. Somewhere neutral where we wouldn’t be recognized. Somewhere away from the prying eyes of the Guild or the Prince's Hand or, I suppose, the Cartel now.
Not that I think anyone has any reason to be interested in me just yet, but I can’t bring myself to show up on his doorstep, and my apartment is too small for two.
I’ve not really seen Marco since the wedding, not since he dropped off the wedding gift that I still haven’t worn or sold yet. He’d been treading on eggshells that day, which I’d chalked up to the absurdity of the situation.
Now, as he enters the store and I watch him tell the barista his order, I can still see that same tension in his shoulders.
And when he sits next to me, there’s guilt in his eyes. Or is it shame? Or is it the weight of knowing his life choices resulted in marrying his daughter off to a don?
“ Papà, ” I greet him with a kiss on either cheek.
His fingers linger on my bandaged arm as I pull away.
“You’re hurt,” his voice catches slightly. “He said he wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I hurt myself,” I say firmly, suddenly feeling oddly protective of his opinion of Leon. “Hazards of the job.”
Marco grits his teeth. “What job?”
I give him a pointed look. “Well, I’m not working at the Candelabra anymore.”
“You swore you would leave that life behind.” He’s gripping my hand now, a little desperately. The pressure of his grip sends a dull pain up my arm. “You’re a wife now, soon to be a mother. He shouldn’t be allowing you to keep playing these games.”
Something akin to dread begins to pool in my stomach. “Allowing me?”
“I only agreed to this because he said he would keep you safe. ”
I feel a bubble of laughter in my throat. “You wanted me to be safe? You shouldn’t have married me off to a mafia don.”
“It was safer than anything Teo suggested,” he says as if that is a valid reason. “He would have had you as the face of his new business venture. At least Leon promised to keep you a secret.”
The coffee in front of me is burning hot. I wrap my fingers around the porcelain anyway, pressing them in tight.
“I’m only going to ask you this one time,” I say softly. “So I’m going to need you to be honest with me. I deserve that much, don’t I?”
My father lets out a long breath and nods firmly, staring at a spot just over my shoulder.
“Who threatened your life?”
He blanches. “What?”
“You said that you’d die if I didn’t go through with the wedding. Who made that threat?”
“Mia—”
“Because it wasn’t Teo.” I can hear my voice raising slightly. “And Leon claims he didn’t do it either. I’ll admit I was hesitant to trust him on that, but you haven’t looked me in the eye since you sat down.”
He cringes slightly as he forces his eyes to mine. “Please, Mia. You need to understand…”
“What? That my own father was the one manipulating me this whole time?” I shoot the accusation out and send up a silent prayer that he’ll deny it.
Marco Chiavari swallows.
“It’s getting very, very dangerous out there.”
I stand up, the scrape of my chair a brutal, deafening sound against our hushed conversation. “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie,” he insists, reaching for my arm.
I snatch it away. “You manipulated me.”
“You are the only thing that matters to me, Mia. The only thing.” He stands too. “It would kill me if anything happened to you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, do you understand that?”
Vaguely, I’m aware that our discussion is starting to garner some attention.
“It’s my fault you’re in this life…mine. That’s on me until my dying breath. I would do anything to go back and change it,” he says, his voice breaking slightly at the end. “You’re my little girl. This is the best I could do for you, and I know it will never be enough.”
I can feel tears prickling in my eyes as I take a step back, away from him. This is the man I have always trusted. “You’re right. It’s not enough.”
“Mia. Please, honey.” He crumbles a bit as he tries to follow me.
But I shake him off. “I need you to leave me alone for a bit, okay? No more meddling. No more gifts, no more trying to pay my rent. I don’t need it. I never needed it. You can just leave me alone.”
“I’m your father?—”
“You never trusted that I’d be able to handle myself. Never. I build a life for myself on the back of my own skill and my own strengths and my own work, and you think you have the right to just fly in and…and…wave a wand and put me in a safe little box away from everything I ever loved.”
I swallow hard and look him dead in the eyes. “Fuck you, Dad.”
The bass thrums in the air before we even reach the club’s entrance, a deep, pulsing heartbeat that seems to shake the pavement under my heels.
Neon lights flicker above the doorway, casting the word “Inferno” in blood-red letters against the slick black sky. The line stretches halfway down the block, a sea of people eager to drown their troubles in music and tequila.
“Are you sure about this?” I glance sideways at Carmen, who’s practically vibrating with excitement.
Her dark curls tumble over her shoulders and her red dress clings to her like a second skin. She looks every bit the confident cartel princess she is, but there’s a softness in her smile that’s pure Carmen.
“Absolutely,” she says, looping her arm through mine. It feels so oddly familiar now. “I needed to thank you for the catastrophe that was the beach house, and you look tense as shit. It’s a win, win.”
It had been slightly strange to receive her call a week ago. At first, I thought she wanted me on another job, but as it transpired, she’d just wanted to talk.
It started with her just trying to process what had happened at the beach house. But then she started to complain about Ivan, which turned into worrying that Ivan had gone missing. Then, inexplicably, she was asking me about school and my goals, and my life.
In the boring monotony that had become my life, Carmen had become something of a highlight.
Especially as Leon hadn’t been back to the brownstone all week. Not that I’d been checking (I had). I hadn’t really confronted him about anything after the blowout with my father.
He’s been busy ever since Ivan “went missing”, and I’ve honestly appreciated the space.
Somehow, this week of distance felt easier than the last. I think knowing that there would be a conversation at the end of it made it easier.
One where I apologize for thinking the worst of him.
One where, maybe, we can start to fix something that shouldn’t have been so broken in the first place.
It feels like something…important. Something to take our time over. And I can’t deny having a week to get my thoughts together has done wonders for my general anxiety over the entire situation.
“Fine, but if you get into trouble, I’m hauling your ass out of here,” I jest back.
As we approach the bouncer, Carmen barely spares him a glance. He steps aside immediately, lifting the velvet rope with a nod—the perks of her last name.
Inside, the club is pure, glorious chaos. The music is deafening, a thundering beat that reverberates through my chest.
Colored lights slice through the darkness, flashing across a packed dance floor where bodies move in a hypnotic rhythm. The air smells of sweat, alcohol, and just a hint of danger.
Carmen drags me straight to the bar, leaning in to shout her order to the bartender. “Two shots of tequila and two margaritas!”
“Carmen—”
“No arguments!” She grins, pressing a shot glass into my hand. “We’re celebrating.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Celebrating what?”
“Us. Surviving. That we’re still breathing.” She clinks her glass against mine. “That’s enough, don’t you think?”
I don’t argue. I pretend to down the shot in one go, wincing as if the burn is setting a fire in my chest when in reality, I dumped the liquid on the floor. Carmen is too preoccupied with her own shot to notice.
For the next few hours, we lose ourselves in the wonderful chaos.
Carmen is a natural on the dance floor, her movements fluid and carefree. She twirls, pulling me into her orbit, and for a little while, the tension in my shoulders eases.
I stay close, scanning the crowd out of habit, but I let myself relax enough to enjoy the moment and the buzz of bodies around me and the beating of a collective heartbeat through the speakers.
I’d told Leon I’d be here, just in case. It felt like the smart thing to do, and he’d texted me to be careful. Which was fine, honestly. It was very cool of him, very reserved, very mature after his response the last time I went out with Carmen.
Except there’s a part of me that really does want him to be here this time. Maybe it’s the press of skin against skin all around me, maybe it’s the hypnotic dancing, but I’m looking for chocolate brown in the eyes of every stranger who crosses my path.
By the time we make our way back to the bar, we’re both flushed and breathless. Carmen orders another round, her smile wide and genuine.
“See?” she says, leaning against the counter. “This is what we needed!”
I study her, the way her eyes sparkle in the flashing lights, the way her laughter seems to make the world a little brighter. It hits me then how much I’ve come to care for her.
Not as a client, not as the daughter of my enemy, but as Carmen.
“I think you’re good for me, Cammy,” I admit, and her grin widens.
“I think you’re good for me, too.”
The rest of the night blurs into a haze of music, laughter, and stolen moments of peace. For a little while, I forget about the danger, the lies, and the tightrope I’m walking.
Then the music shifts, a sultry beat that pulls the crowd closer together, bodies pressed together, barely a breath apart. A hand slides over my hip, firm but careful, and I stiffen on instinct.
“Easy,” a deep voice murmurs in my ear, the sound barely cutting through the music.
It’s a voice I know.
Before I can turn, the stranger moves in time with me, his other hand grazing the curve of my waist. The scent hits me next—rum spice and black pepper, warm and achingly familiar.
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.
Leon.
I whip my head around, meeting the eyes I’ve been looking for all night beneath the brim of a low-slung cap. It’s him. Disguised, hidden in plain sight, but undeniably him.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss, my body still moving in sync with his despite the fact my heart is trying to beat out of my chest.
“Dancing with my wife,” he says, his tone casual but edged with heat.
My heart lurches. “You’re insane,” I snap, even as my body betrays me, pressing closer to his.
“Maybe.” His lips curve into a small, dangerous smile, and his hands tighten on my waist, pulling me flush against him. “But I’ve been watching you all night, and I couldn’t stay away.”
I glance over my shoulder, searching for Carmen. She’s still by the bar, laughing with someone who looks like they’re trying too hard.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say, my voice lower now, almost pleading. God knows I’m going to lose all motivation to send him away if he keeps touching me like this.
“I know.”
I swallow hard, my pulse roaring in my ears. I’m letting him guide me through the song like we’re the only two people who can even hear it.
When the song ends, he leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “You look beautiful, by the way.”
Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he slips into the crowd, disappearing into the shadows.
I’m left standing there, my body humming with the aftermath of his touch, my mind in complete disarray.
“Mia!” Carmen’s voice cuts through the haze, and I turn to see her making her way over, having ditched her admirer, blissfully unaware of the storm raging inside me.
I plaster on a smile and pretend that everything is absolutely, positively fine.