Chapter Sixteen
Mia
I wake to a small body launching itself onto the bed.
“Oof.”
“Mama!”
The mattress bounces once.
Then again.
My eyes fly open to find Livy on her knees beside me, hair wild, cheeks pink, wearing a sweatshirt that’s not hers and socks that go halfway up her calves.
For one glorious, confusing second, I forget why we’re not home.
Sunlight spills through tall windows covered in cream curtains, and somewhere beyond the door, I hear voices moving quietly through a house that is definitely not ours.
Then yesterday comes back.
Fire.
Smoke.
Billie.
The house.
Livy in a hospital bed.
My chest tightens so fast I almost can’t breathe.
Livy grins down at me.
“Maverick said today is school skip day.”
I blink.
“What?”
“School skip day,” she repeats, like I’m the one being unreasonable. “For all the kids on the estate. He said nobody is going to school today because we had a traumatic event, and traumatic events require togetherness, supervision, snacks, and possibly grilled meat.”
I stare at her.
“He said those words?”
“Not exactly. That was my summary.”
“Of course it was.”
She flops dramatically onto her stomach beside me. “Also, we’re having a cookout down at the compound.”
I push up on one elbow.
Too fast.
The room tilts.
Livy immediately stops bouncing. “Mama?”
“I’m okay.” I close my eyes for a second, waiting for the dizziness to pass. “Just moved too fast.”
She scoots closer, all excitement dimming into concern. “Do you need Mav? He said if you looked pale, I should get him.”
I open one eye. “Did he now?”
“Yes. He also said I’m not supposed to let you be stubborn.”
“That man is overstepping already.”
“He gave me a walkie-talkie.”
My other eye opens.
“He what?”
Livy beams and holds up a small black radio clipped to the waistband of her borrowed sweatpants. “For emergencies.”
“Define emergencies.”
“If you faint. If you cry. If you need tea. If I need snacks. If Steffy gets lost. If someone tries to make me go to school.”
“None of those are the same kind of emergency.”
“They are to me.”
I fall back onto the pillow and stare at the ceiling.
Lord help me.
Livy climbs closer and rests her chin on my shoulder. “Are you mad?”
“No, baby.” I turn my head and kiss her forehead. “I’m just trying to understand why the head of a crime family has declared a school holiday.”
“For emotional wellness.”
“That sounds like something you made up.”
“It might be.”
“Does your chest hurt today?” I ask her. “How’s that burn on your foot?”
“It doesn’t hurt. And, no. Mav made me take my inhaler, then had some man listen to my lungs. They said I was fine. Then I ate breakfast, but I was told I had to leave you alone for one hour.”
“And it has been exactly thirty-four minutes,” Maverick says from the doorway.
Livy screeches and dives under the blankets.
I can’t stop myself.
I laugh.
“You’re in trouble now,” I tease.
“Mama,” Livy groans from beneath the covers, “whose side are you on?”
“The person holding a hot cup of what I’m hoping is coffee.”
I eye the mug in Maverick’s hand.
“It is,” he says, stepping into the room. “Spike and Riley are here. Riley handed me this cup and swore that it would start your day off with happiness. How are you feeling?”
“Better now.”
His mouth curves as he hands me the cup.
I accept it and bring it close, letting the heat seep into my palms.
Maverick sits on the edge of the bed and moves the blanket off my feet. He checks my toes carefully before moving on to my fingers still wrapped around the hot mug.
I go still when his thumb pauses near the missing digit.
He notices, but that’s it.
He gives the smallest nod and moves on to the rest of my fingers.
My throat tightens.
“Got too cold,” I admit.
His eyes lift to mine.
I look down at the coffee because it’s easier than looking at him.
“For some reason, when the blood flow came back to the others, that one never did.” I shrug, trying to make it smaller than it feels. “They had to take it.”
“How old were you?” he asks.
“Twenty-three.” I take a careful sip of coffee. “It was a bad winter. Bad circulation. Bad timing. I ignored it too long because I was stubborn and broke.”
“Amelia.”
“I know.”
“You could have lost more.”
“I know that too.”
His thumb brushes lightly along the shortened tip of my finger.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” My voice comes out too quiet. “I’ve learned to live without it.”
His eyes lift to mine.
I try to shrug, but it feels too small for the moment.
“Mostly, I forget about it. Then someone new notices, and I remember all over again.”
“I noticed the first time I met you,” he says. “I just didn’t know the cause.
Maverick lowers his head and presses his lips to what’s left of my missing fingertip.
My breath catches.
Is such a gentle thing.
So small.
But it hits me harder than it should.
Like he’s kissing the part of me I stopped offering for anyone to look at too closely.
Livy peeks out from under the blanket. “Mama’s finger is shy. We don’t make a big deal about it.”
A laugh slips through the ache in my chest.
Maverick looks toward the blanket lump beside me. “Understood.”
“She also has special gloves.”
“I’ve already ordered several.”
I blink. “You what?”
He looks back at me, completely unapologetic. “Wool. Thermal. Cashmere. Heated.”
“Maverick.”
“You have Raynaud’s.”
“I have gloves.”
“You had gloves. They burned.”
My mouth opens.
Closes.
Well.
Rude but accurate.
“So,” I say, changing the subject, “the Don called off school for the day, huh?”
“Emotional wellness is important,” Maverick says. “Also, Tank is grilling burgers, hot dogs, and steak.”
“That’s not very Italian.” I take another drink of my coffee.
Nice and creamy.
Exactly how I like it.
“Well, I’m also a Shadow,” he says.
I pause. “I thought you said you weren’t part of their club?”
“I am. And, I’m not.” His smile softens. “They call me the Outlaw. I’m not an official member because of my duties as Don, but they treat me like one.”
“Gotcha.”
Which is not entirely true.
But it’s enough for now.
“Alright.” I take one more sip and force myself upright. “Let’s get this emotional wellness day started before I have to deal with insurance, police reports, and the flaming wreckage of my entire life.”
Maverick’s expression gentles.
“Tomorrow,” he says.
“Maverick.”
“Tomorrow, bella,” he repeats. “Today, you eat. You stay warm. You let your daughter laugh.”
That one hits.
I look toward the blanket lump beside me.
Livy peeks out. “I do need to laugh. Doctor’s orders probably.”
“I doubt that.”
“Mav said emotional wellness.”
“Of course he did.”
Maverick stands and smooths a hand over the blanket near my knee. “There’s an outfit in our bathroom that should fit. We’ll go shopping later today to get you both whatever you need.”
Our bathroom.
My brain catches on the word like a snagged thread.
Not the bathroom.
Not my bathroom.
Not even your bathroom.
Our bathroom.
He says it like it’s already been decided.
Maybe it has.
I’m too tired to fight it.
“Let’s go, Don Livy,” he says. “We have an empire to run.”
Livy scrambles out from under the blankets. “Can I feed someone to the fishies?”
Maverick offers her his hand. “I’ll let you know after I read my email.”
They leave the room together, entirely too serious about it.
I sit there holding my coffee, wearing borrowed pajamas in a crime lord’s bed, listening to my ten-year-old plot estate management with a man called the Outlaw.
What’s happening in my life?
I give myself ten minutes.
Then I get up, get dressed, and hunt down my daughter.
I hear her laughter as soon as I leave the suite Maverick calls a bedroom.
“Wow,” I say when I find her in a very girly room.
Soft pink walls. Cream furniture. A white canopy bed with gauzy curtains tied back by little satin ribbons. Shelves full of books and stuffed animals. A tiny table near the window with two chairs, as if it’s been waiting for a tea party.
It’s beautiful.
The kind of room someone loved into existence.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Mama?” Livy asks. “Maverick says it’s mine for as long as I want it. Forever. I want it forever.”
“That’s a long time, honey,” I say gently.
“Not long enough,” Maverick says from behind me.
His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.
I let myself lean into him.
“Email has been checked, Don Livy,” he says. “No need to feed anyone to the fish today.”
“Well, shoot.” Livy sighs. “Wait. We only feed bad people to the fishies, right?”
“Only very bad people,” Maverick says.
I look around the room again.
Something pulls tight in my chest.
“Why do you have this room in your suite?” I ask. “Stefano said most of the children live in some of the homes on the property, and the ones who live in this building have rooms on the other side of the house.”
“I think it was his daughter’s room, Mama,” Livy says.
Maverick’s body jolts.
Had he not been holding me so closely, I might have missed it.
“Your daughter’s?” I ask softly, looking back at him.
His eyes are closed.
Pain rolls through him so strongly I can practically see it roll off him in waves.
“Sabrina said she never met her because she lives in heaven with her mama,” Livy says.
Again, Maverick reacts.
“Livy, honey,” I say gently, rubbing my hands over Maverick’s arms where they’ve tightened around me. “You need to be careful with your words.”
Livy’s face falls. “What? Why?”
“Because some words hurt people, even when we don’t mean them to.”
“Oh no.” Her eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry, Mav. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
For a moment, Maverick doesn’t move.
Then he releases me and crouches down, holding open his arms.
“Come here, piccola.”
Livy runs into his arms.
He holds her carefully, one hand cupping the back of her head.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, his voice rough.
“But I hurt your feelings.”
“Your words didn’t hurt me,” he admits. “The memory your words gave me is what made me sad. However, this was never her room.”
Livy sniffles. “It wasn’t?”
“No.” Maverick pulls back enough to look at her. “Elena never lived in this house. She and her mother, Adriana, were gone before I came to Palm Springs.”