Chapter 4
Mina
Seventeen Years Old
I stand behind the pew, barely listening as Father O’Toole delivers his sermon. Jude, on the other hand, is completely focused—his head slightly bowed, his expression somber. He takes church far too seriously, which is ironic considering the life he’s chosen.
Me? I’m here for him.
It’s been a year since Jude arrived at my doorstep, and in that time, he’s become a constant in my life. So much so that I make sure that all my weekends are reserved for him. Whatever tickles his fancy, I’m there for it. Even if it means sitting through Sunday mass, pretending to care about words that don’t mean much to me.
But while Jude is focused on his faith, I’m focused on something entirely different.
His lips.
His hands.
The way his long brown hair falls just inches away from his eyes, the slight crook of his smile, and—dear God Almighty—don’t even get me started on that smolder. That damn smolder gets me weak in the knees every time.
Not exactly the holiest of thoughts, but I can’t help myself.
And if Jude had even the slightest clue that I was sitting here, fantasizing about his hands on me, his mouth on mine—he’d run in the opposite direction.
And fast.
To my chagrin, I’ve been friend-zoned.
My fault, really.
Early on, I told him that I was willing to be his friend as long as he would open up to me. That true friendship was give and take. And though it took some time, we eventually reached a place where we both felt safe enough to share our thoughts, dreams, and frustrations with each other.
I’ve become his closest confidante.
I know him as well as I know myself.
And it’s because of that, I can tell that lately… he’s getting restless.
My father still has him doing grunt work. While Jude wouldn’t normally complain, the fact that my cousins, Rolo and Remus, were recently inducted into the Firm has him more on edge than usual. He feels like it’s Chicago all over again—him watching from the sidelines while everyone else takes the steps he’s so desperate to make.
My father sees it, too.
He’s grown fond of Jude. Not just because Jude is good at what he does but because of how he treats me. My father hasn’t come out directly and said it to me yet, but I know he’s very aware of my feelings for his protégé. He knows they have evolved from a teenage crush into something… more.
Having said that, I have no doubt that if my father thought, for even a second, that Jude was manipulating me in any way, he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his head—Romano heir or not.
But he hasn’t.
Because Jude is respectful.
Because Jude is different.
The twins, however, aren’t as convinced. But then again, trust isn’t exactly in their nature.
I genuinely wish the twins could see Jude the way I do. It would make my life so much easier if they could give him a chance and get along with him. Unfortunately, outside of each other, the only person they seem to have room for in their black hearts is me, which doesn’t bode well for Jude.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I only notice that mass has ended when I feel a light poke at my side.
“You haven’t fallen asleep on me, have you?”
I blink up at Jude, still caught in my daydream.
“Not for lack of trying. Though Father O’Toole sure didn’t make it easy to stay awake,” I grumble, standing from the pew.
He laughs at my sass, and the melodic sound makes sitting through Father O’Toole’s fire-and-brimstone rants worthwhile.
“Are you okay waiting for me a little while longer so I can make a confession?”
The instinct to roll my eyes is strong, but I resist. The last thing I want to do is be disrespectful and make fun of something that clearly matters to him.
“Of course,” I say with a bright grin. “Though I still don’t understand why a guy who works for my father thinks it’s a good idea to confess anything to a total stranger. What if the priest talks?”
“That’s where the whole confidentiality thing comes into play. Priests can’t repeat what they hear in a confessional.” Jude winks.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask, suddenly uneasy.
Jude leans in until our faces are just a hairsbreadth apart.
“Father O’Toole knows exactly what my father does for a living, Mina. Do you really think he’d risk saying anything when his own life is on the line?”
“Your father is a long way from here, cowboy.”
He then pulls back slightly, leaning toward my ear, his voice dropping to a playful murmur.
“Mine might be, but yours isn’t.” He winks before pressing a quick kiss to my temple, then turns and strides off in search of Father O’Toole.
And just like that, he’s gone.
That’s all I ever get. A hug here, a kiss on the forehead there. If I’m really lucky, he’ll hold my hand when we take our afternoon walks through the garden.
Yep, I’m one lucky girl.
Not.
Sometimes, I get so frustrated that I feel like grabbing him by the collar and demanding that he kiss me already. But if I did that, I’d spook him.
Jude is a criminal with a conscience.
No way would he take advantage of a seventeen-year-old girl—especially when that girl happens to be the only daughter of the man who made a home for him here.
Jude has more scruples than that.
Ugh.
But that’s fine. I can wait.
I mean, I have been waiting.
Nineteen months, six days, eleven hours, and … thirty-three minutes, to be precise.
But hey, who’s counting?
I am.
I’m counting.
Sigh.
But that’s okay. Because once I turn eighteen… all bets are off.
With that glorious thought swimming in my head, I wander around the church, biding my time—waiting for Jude, waiting for my birthday, waiting for the moment he finally stops seeing me as just a friend.
Waiting… waiting… always waiting.
I’m actually considering prayer as a way to speed things up when Jude emerges, looking lighter. Cleansed, I suppose.
“Confess all your sins?” I tease as he takes my hand, leading me toward the exit.
“Almost all of them.”
“You held some back?” I gasp in mock horror. “Isn’t that sacrilegious?”
He glances sideways at me, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Some things are better left unsaid. Don’t you think?”
Is that a dig at me?
My stomach twists, but I stay quiet, choosing to savor the warmth of his hand wrapped around mine instead of asking him what he meant by that.
As always, my father’s chauffeur is already waiting for us in the lot, but rather than walking toward the car, Jude halts his step and glances up at the cloudless sky.
“How about we walk home? It’s a gorgeous day. What do you think?”
A slow smile spreads across my lips as I give him a nod.
“I could do with a walk.”
Though I love the time we spend together in the manor, it’s full of watchful eyes. Aunt Pippa, the twins—they all have a habit of showing up when I least expect them. Walking home, just the two of us, sounds like heaven.
Huh?
Maybe I’m starting to become a believer after all.
After telling the driver to head back without us, we set off through a shortcut behind the church, the spring air crisp and fresh around us.
“I talked to your father last night,” Jude says casually.
“And?” I glance over at him.
“I start shadowing his underboss on Monday.”
I freeze for half a second before letting out a sharp gasp. “You’re kidding!”
“Nope.” He grins, the kind of grin that splits his face in two.
“Oh my God, Jude!” Without thinking, I throw my arms around him, hugging him tight. “I know how much this means to you. I’m so proud of you.”
His breath catches, just for a moment, as his hands settle on my back. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice rougher than usual.
When I pull away, my cheeks burn under the intensity of his hazel eyes. I know I’m imagining things, that my feelings aren’t returned. But sometimes—just sometimes—on moments like this, I almost believe I see something there.
Almost.
I clear my throat, needing to break the tension that my hug created, and begin to walk.
“Have you ever met Felix?”
“Once or twice. You?”
“He’s Daddy’s right hand. Of course I’ve met him.”
He hums in acknowledgment as we keep walking side by side, but my mind is still stuck on that hug—how his arms felt around me and how he looked at me to keep up with the idle conversation.
Why does turning eighteen feel like it’s an eternity away?
Argh.
Technically, the legal age of consent in the United Kingdom is sixteen, but I doubt that Jude, with his strong moral compass, would fall for that line.
Out of all the men I could have fallen for, it had to be the one with a conscience.
“Are you okay? You’ve gone silent on me,” he asks, watching me carefully, his brow furrowed.
“I’m fine.” I feign a smile. “I’m just excited about your news, that’s all.”
“So, what can you tell me about him? Felix, I mean.”
“Let’s see…” I exhale, rolling my shoulders as I think. “He’s in his thirties now, but he started working for Daddy when he was just a kid. From what I heard, his father died working for the Firm. When Daddy showed up at his door to say that Felix and his mum would always be taken care of, Felix said that he would only accept Daddy’s money if he worked for it.”
“So he has integrity,” Jude muses.
“Bucketloads of it.” I pause as something else comes to my mind. “If I remember correctly, his mom went back to Nigeria a few years after his dad died, though. I guess staying in London was too much for her.”
“Felix didn’t go with her?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I know he visits her a lot, but London is his home. He was born and raised here. Still, he was young when he started working for The Firm. Maybe sixteen or so. Like you, Daddy took him under his wing. Taught him everything from the ground up. He knows this business inside and out.”
“What’s that frown about?” he asks, pointing to my lips.
“It’s nothing,” I lie.
“Are we keeping secrets from each other now? Is that what best friends do?”
“Fine, I’ll tell you. I like Felix, I do. He’s a good man—fair, respectful. It’s just…” I let out a slow breath. “One day, I overheard Aunt Pippa telling my father that Felix is ‘husband material.’”
“For her?” Jude raises a teasing brow.
“No, Jude. Not for her. For me.”
He stops in his tracks, his eyes snapping to mine.
“You can’t be serious.”
I hold my hands up. “Hey, I’m not the one who said it. That was all my Aunt Pippa.”
“And your father?” Jude’s jaw tightens. “What did Victor say?”
“Nothing.” I force another smile. “His silence said it all.”
“Fuck.” Jude rakes a hand through his hair. “You just said Felix is in his thirties. You’re a teenager, for fuck sake!”
“I’ll be eighteen next year,” I remind him. “And if my father wants to marry me off to Felix, there’s not much I can do.”
“I don’t accept that.” Jude shakes his head.
I huff out a laugh.
“Oh? And just what do you plan to do about it?”
Without waiting for an answer, I walk toward the archway leading out of the church’s garden, the path we take on the Sundays we walk home—the same one I’m now desperate to escape from.
Jude doesn’t let me.
A second later, he’s behind me, grabbing my hand and pulling me to a stop. His grip is firm, but his voice is even firmer.
“You can’t marry Felix.”
“So you’ve said,” I retort with a mocking tone. “And how exactly do you plan to stop it?”
Jude searches my face as if trying to piece together a puzzle, looking for something he doesn’t quite understand. After a long, heavy pause, he exhales sharply.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Before what? ”
Jude presses his lips, his breath slow and measured like he’s holding something back.
“You’re not marrying him,” he finally says with a low and determined voice. “You’re just a kid.”
“It’s funny how you’re the only one who insists on seeing me that way when no one else does.”
I pull away from his grip, frustrated that he only labels me a child when it suits him.
“Fuck, that’s not what I meant!” he yells, running after me.
“Oh no?!” I yell back, halting in my tracks to face him. “What did you mean then?”
Jude walks straight toward me, leaving only an inch between us.
“What I meant was that you have your whole life ahead of you. Getting married this young? It’s a cage, Mina. Your father wouldn’t do that to you. He loves you too much.”
“My father might not have a choice.” I sigh, shaking my head. “You forget—he may be the Boss, but he still has people to keep happy. It’s just business.”
His eyes darken. “You are not business. You’re your own person.”
“So glad you see me that way,” I say with a tight smile.
If I had even an ounce of courage, I’d rise onto my toes and press my lips on his.
But I don’t.
Not when he’s looking at me like his whole world just collapsed.
“There has to be something we can do,” he murmurs.
“We?” I glance up at him. “When did you and I become we? ”
“Mina, come on,” he utters in frustration. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Do you honestly believe that I’d be able to sleep at night knowing you’re about to marry some old guy? ”
“Thirty isn’t old. ”
“It is when the bride is still a teenager.”
I chew on my bottom lip before deciding to test him.
“What if he were your age, huh? Would marriage still be a ‘cage’ then?” I hike a brow.
“Yes,” he deadpans.
And just like that, my heart deflates.
“Well, there you have it then.” I swallow hard, forcing down the lump in my throat. “I either marry my father’s underboss or become a spinster. Neither of which I particularly want.”
Jude exhales through his nose. “Why are you mad at me? ”
“Because.” I shove my palms against his chest, frustration bubbling over. “It’s so easy for you to say I can’t do this or I can’t do that when you don’t have any skin in the game.”
His expression hardens.
“That’s not fair. You know I care about you.”
He cares about me. How come that feels like a knife to the chest?
“Great,” I say, my voice hollow. “Awesome. That’s just what every girl wants to hear.”
I’d laugh if Jude’s expression of utter confusion didn’t want to make me cry.
“I don’t understand where this is coming from. Who are you really mad at?”
“Everyone!” I shout, letting it all spill out. “I’m not like you, Jude! I can’t just run from my responsibilities.”
“I didn’t run.” His voice is quiet but sharp. “I’m fighting for the life I want. That’s not running.”
“And what? You expect me to do the same?” I snort. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but not everyone can go against their family as easily as you.”
“That’s a fucking cheap shot, Mina, even for you,” he retorts, his beautiful hazel eyes unable to hide the hurt my remark caused. “You, out of everyone, know how much my family means to me. You know I didn’t make that decision lightly.”
“All I know is that you turned your back on everyone you loved,” I whisper, hating every word that’s coming out of my mouth.
A muscle in his jaw twitches, and just by the intensity in his eyes, I would dig a hole right here to hide and crawl into if I could.
“I thought you knew me better than that,” he mutters after what had to be the most uncomfortable silence of my life.
“I thought so, too.” I cross my arms to look stronger than I feel. “But apparently, I was wrong because my friend wouldn’t have gone ballistic over something I have no control over.” I scoff. “You talk about fate and destiny, but mine was forfeited the day I was born a girl. It’s so easy for you to talk. So goddamn easy since men like you will always get to dictate your futures. While principessa’s like me can only dream about it.”
“This isn’t the seventeenth century, Mina. You have options.”
I laugh bitterly.
“No, I don’t. In this life, our life, I might as well be living in the seventeenth century. Nothing changes. Men will always have the upper hand while women learn the hard way that it’s easier to submit than rebel.”
Jude steps closer, his eyes burning into mine. “That’s not you. You don’t submit to anyone. ”
“Don’t I?”
I turn to walk away again, but before I can, Jude grips my wrist and pulls me back.
This time, he doesn’t just stop me. He presses his forehead on mine, his breath fanning against my cheeks, his heart racing beneath my palms.
“No,” he whispers, his voice rough. “You don’t. You are Mina-fucking-Crane. The only one in charge of your destiny is you. No one, not even your father, can dictate how you plan to live it.”
“Pretty words.” I swallow hard.
“You’ll find a way,” he breathes. “You have to.”
“Will I?”
I tilt my head back, locking eyes with him—those hazel eyes that turn my knees to jelly every time they look at me the way they are right now.
“Yes, Mina, you will. If not for yourself… then do it for me.”
My pulse quickens.
“Why do you even care?”
Jude exhales slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because…” He pauses as if searching for the right words. “I couldn’t live in a world where you were caged. You’re too free a spirit for anyone to clip your wings.”
“You make marriage sound like a prison sentence.”
“For you, it would be.” His gaze darkens. “Maybe when you’re older, much older, you’ll be ready to make that decision. But even then, I’d rest easier knowing you did it for love.”
“Love?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Can a mafia princess even hope for such a thing?”
Jude’s expression softens as he runs the back of his hand over my cheek.
“Yes, sweetheart. She can.”
And then, before I can process his words, he leans in and presses the softest, most tender kiss on my cheek.
Tears sting at the corners of my eyes—not from sadness but from the unspoken desperation in his.
Maybe it’s not just in my head.
Maybe Jude harbors feelings for me, feelings he’s not yet ready to admit.
If that’s the case, I’ll buy him some time.
I’ll wait.
I’ll do whatever it takes because the only way I’ll ever walk down the aisle is if he’s the one waiting for me at the end of it.
The rest of the walk back to the house is silent, neither of us ready to break whatever unspoken thing just passed between us.
When we finally reach the manor, Jude stops at the foot of the stairs. “I need to call my family,” he says.
It’s a lie.
I know it’s a lie.
The time difference alone makes it impossible. But I don’t call him out on it. If he needs space, I’ll give it to him.
Instead, I turn and head toward my father’s office, having made the only plausible decision I could.
He looks up as I enter, a warm smile stretching across his face.
“There’s my sweet pea. Have fun at church today?”
We both know that ‘fun’ and ‘church’ don’t belong in the same sentence.
But when I don’t respond, his smile fades, replaced by something sharper.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“Everything’s fine, Daddy.”
He narrows his eyes at me as he slowly gets up from his seat.
“Everything doesn’t look fine.”
I take a step closer, planting my palms on his desk.
“What would it take for me to become the head of The Firm?”
His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, then, as if a switch had been flipped, his lips stretch into a slow, knowing grin.,
“I thought you’d never ask.”