6. Chapter 6 #2
Mia didn’t flinch. She stepped back toward her grandmother, placing a steadying hand on the older woman’s shoulder as if to stake her claim.
“I’m twenty-six, Your Honor. Not a child.
” Her chin went up, a defiant, angry gesture.
“I’m married. I have my own income and a private residence in Europe, but I’m ready and willing to relocate here to Minneapolis to care for my nonna. ”
Raffe saw the older woman shift, sitting a little taller under Mia’s touch. Protective body language was contagious, he thought grimly. Mia gave her grandmother strength just by standing next to her.
A hiss of disapproval rippled through the courtroom, and Raffe fought down a smile when Vito exploded to his feet.
“You’re not married!” he snarled, spittle flying, his lawyer frantically tugging at his sleeve. “I never gave you permission to marry!”
Mia’s voice cut through the chaos. “I don’t need your permission.” She was already holding the next document. “Here is my marriage license.” She handed it to the bailiff with calm finality.
Raffe sat straighter as the judge examined it—or pretended to, anyway—before passing it back. Of course he knew; the man who had officiated them less than twenty minutes ago had clearly tipped this judge off. Still, the formality mattered.
“Your marriage gives you a support system,” the judge announced.
“And you have more than adequate income to support your grandmother.” He sighed, folding his hands.
“I guess the only real question is”—he turned his gaze toward the woman in the wheelchair—“Ms. Santini, who would you prefer to be your legal, financial, and health advocate?”
Raffe leaned forward, watching closely.
The frail woman turned her head, her eyes glowing with pride as she smiled up at her granddaughter. “Definitely my Mia.”
The entire courtroom shifted at her words.
Vito shot to his feet, his face dark red, anger raising from him like heat from asphalt. “Evangeline, are you seriously going to burden my daughter with all the care you’ll need? She’s in the prime of her life! And what if she gets pregnant? She won’t be able to care for you and a baby!”
Raffe clenched his teeth, his fingers digging into his thighs. He didn’t miss the way Mia immediately angled herself between her nonna and her father, a subtle half-step forward, shoulders squared as if daring him to come closer.
“My husband will help, Your Honor,” Mia said firmly, her voice echoing across the courtroom.
Raffe blinked once, his pulse jumping. Her husband. Right, that’s me.
“Is that right?” Vito snarled, twisting toward the judge. His lip curled. “If he’s so helpful, then where the hell is he?”
Raffe exhaled slowly. So much for staying invisible.
There was a long moment of silence, so thick Raffe could almost hear Vito’s teeth grinding.
He cursed under his breath. He didn’t want to be dragged into this circus, but the truth gnawed at him—he was already planning to drag Mia into his mess.
If that was the case, he damn well had to step up for hers.
“I’m right here, Your Honor,” he announced, his voice carrying easily across the hushed courtroom. He rose to his full height, letting the men in suits sitting in the front row see exactly how much space he took up.
The judge’s lips twitched with something suspiciously close to amusement.
When his gaze returned to Vito, he smoothed it into stern professionalism, but Raffe caught the glimmer anyway.
“Done,” the judge said crisply, slamming his gavel with finality.
“Ms. Mia Calvino is hereby declared to be the guardian and conservator for Ms. Evangeline Santini.” Papers were handed to the clerk’s desk. Then he barked, “Next!”
Chaos stirred at the front. Mia darted to her grandmother’s side, crouching low, her hands tender on the frail woman’s arms. She hugged her gently, whispering something Raffe couldn’t hear, but the warmth in her posture spoke louder than words.
Her body curved protectively around her grandmother, her shoulder angling as though she could shield the older woman from the rest of the courtroom.
For a moment, Raffe wondered if his brand-new “wife” had just stepped straight into the lion’s den.
Because across the room, Vito Calvino looked like he thirsted for blood.
His face was mottled red, lips peeled back as he hissed instructions to his lawyer.
The suit frantically gestured with both hands, trying to shush his client before contempt charges landed on them.
Raffe’s cop instincts sharpened as he watched. Vito might have lost this round, but men like him didn’t give up. They regrouped, they schemed, and then they struck again, harder.
Good. Let him seethe. Let him rage. Courtrooms were the one place Vito couldn’t cheat, at least not as openly as he did out on the streets. Here, his hands were tied—and today, Mia had beaten him soundly.
But Raffe silently groaned anyway. Because this whole marriage charade had just tangled itself into his investigation in ways he hadn’t expected.
He wasn’t supposed to be standing here, wasn’t supposed to be a husband, wasn’t supposed to give a damn about a dark-eyed woman who was too thin for her own good and the frail grandmother she guarded with the ferocity of a lioness.
And yet.
There was only one thing to do.
He stepped into the aisle, moving closer. He bent just enough to meet the older woman’s eyes, his voice lowering into a warm, almost gentle tone. “Ms. Santini, I’m Raffe Moretti. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The woman blinked at him, then pressed a trembling hand to her double strand of pearls. A spark of humor lit her eyes as she turned to her granddaughter. “Good job, Mia!” the elderly woman whispered, grinning slyly up at her.
Mia chuckled, though her laugh carried a tremor of relief. She leaned over her grandmother’s shoulder. “Behave! Or I’ll make you eat oatmeal for breakfast tomorrow.”
The old woman laughed, delighted. “Oatmeal would be a blessing compared to what they’ve been feeding me.”
Raffe’s chest loosened, just a little, watching the exchange. Still, his instincts tugged hard—get them out, get them safe, before Vito regrouped. “How about if I help you two get home?” he offered, his voice steadier than he felt. He looked directly at Mia. “Where did you park?”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, a blush rising to her cheeks.
Raffe almost smiled. That color transformed her, softening the edges of her exhaustion, reminding him again of how lovely she was—too lovely, too vulnerable to be mixed up in any of this.
Her beauty wasn’t the bold kind that slapped a man in the face.
It was gentler, more subtle. The kind that drew you in and made you want to look twice, and then keep looking.
And up close, her eyes—dark, defiant, alive—sparkled in a way that made him want things he shouldn’t. Things he couldn’t afford to even fantasize about.
He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. Too dangerous. Too soon.
Stepping back, he allowed Mia and her grandmother to take the lead, his long stride falling in behind them. He was supposed to be undercover, detached. But right now, all he could think about was the target on their backs—and how far he’d be willing to go to keep them safe.