5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Mialina
“You’ve caught Mateo’s cousin’s attention,” Isa says when she joins me after disentangling herself from a conversation with a man old enough to be our grandfather.
Her voice is light with amusement. I suppose she must have been watching me and Max for a while.
No, not Max. Maximo.
For the briefest second, I glance toward the other side of the room where the irritating mobster has settled into one of the formal seating areas with a group of men.
“Can you blame him? This dress is doing me a lot of favors,” I deflect.
Isa chuckles at my response, lifting her champagne flute and taking a small sip. Leaning in, she lowers her voice.
“Maximo isn’t the only Chicago mobster eyeing an Accardi.”
I blink, my brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”
She tips her glass subtly toward the bar.
“Aldo Marino has been hovering near Mamma all night. And she’s definitely not brushing him off.”
My eyes drift in that direction. Sure enough, the Chicago consigliere is leaning toward our mother, and Mamma is smiling up at him in a way I haven’t seen in years. Her posture is relaxed and her expression open.
This isn’t the practiced mask she wore for Father. It’s the look of a woman who actually enjoys the air she’s breathing.
How did I not notice that? I’m usually the observant one.
“She’s been laughing a lot,” Isa murmurs. “I’m telling you, Mia, she’s into him.”
“Well, good for her,” I say, smiling. “She deserves a bit of positive male attention after being married to Antonio Accardi.”
How she once fell in love with him is beyond me. But then again, Father could be charming when he wanted to be.
I study Mamma and Aldo for a moment. There’s an ease between them that’s surprising, considering they’ve only known each other for a day.
“Do you think he’s serious?” I ask.
“What? No, they only just met,” Isa exclaims. “And Aldo and Maximo leave the day after tomorrow. But honestly, I hope she’ll have wild sex and make some juicy memories.”
I snort into my glass, the champagne nearly coming out of my nose. The image is jarring, but strangely welcome.
“God, can you imagine? That would be… weirdly amazing.”
“Right? She deserves something just for her. For once.”
My gaze drifts across the room again, taking in the glittering crowd, the controlled smiles, the quiet negotiations happening beneath polite conversation.
“Speaking of male attention… it’s kind of strange, don’t you think?”
“What is?” Isa asks.
“With Father gone, men are actually allowed to talk to us. And they do.”
Annoyingly so.
“Hardly surprising,” Isa mutters.
I watch her shift her glass from one hand to the other, her jaw tightening a fraction.
“Now that we’re connected to the Don, we’ve become hot property.”
Property. That’s what most of the men here see us as.
I push the thought aside. Perhaps Isa will spot someone she could actually like. It’s time she let go of Luca. He disappeared five years ago after promising to come back for her.
He never did.
“Has anyone caught your interest?” I ask her.
“Ha,” Isa huffs, the sound sharper than she probably intends. “Not a chance. I’m not going to bind myself to any of these men. All our lives, we’ve been bargaining chips for our father. Now we actually have a say in who we marry.”
There goes my idea of her moving on. But I’m also pleased. She thinks like me, which shouldn’t really come as a surprise. Living under Father’s thumb scarred all of us.
I dare a glance in Maximo’s direction over the rim of my champagne glass. He’s still there, still tracking my movements.
“Well, I’d rather die an old spinster than marry a man from our circles.” Isa leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper that barely carries over the music. “I want out, Mia.”
I still. The word seems dangerous in a room full of people who kill to stay in.
“Out?” I repeat.
“Out of all of this. I want a normal life. Quiet, boring, mine. I want to wake up in the morning and make choices without asking permission.”
I don’t smile this time. I can’t.
My gaze sweeps over the guests, noting the guards at the doors and the men everyone else seems to orbit around.
Isabella is dreaming of a world that doesn’t exist for women in the Mafia. My voice is quiet but firm when I speak.
“What woman here wouldn’t? But don’t fool yourself. Just because Father’s gone doesn’t mean we’re free. The system’s still in place.”
Isa sighs, her gaze drifting over my shoulder. I turn slightly, watching from the corner of my eye as Maximo rises from his seat. The other men stand too, their attention fixed on him. They shake hands, and then he’s heading straight for us.
“Mateo’s cousin definitely has his sights set on you,” Isa says, observing him weave through the crowd. “He’s on the move. What do you think of him?”
I raise a brow, keeping my voice neutral. “Are you asking if I’m interested in him?”
Isa tilts her head. “I suppose.”
A soft laugh slips out. “For starters, he’s way too old.”
“He’s a year older than Mateo.”
“Exactly,” I say pointedly. “Twelve years older than me makes him ancient. I don’t care how good his jawline is. No, thank you.”
“Ah, so you noticed he has a nice jawline?”
I roll my eyes.
“He might just be your type. Brooding, intense, a little dangerous, and not to forget, devastatingly handsome,” Isa says, the smirk on her face growing.
“Maybe… if he came in civilian packaging. But even then,” I scoff, taking a sip of my drink, the bubbles popping on my tongue. “He thinks he hung the moon. It’s fun enough for a game of badminton, but you can already tell he expects the world, and especially women, to bend to his will.”
“Arrogant, chauvinistic, and controlling,” Isa finishes for me.
“Bingo. No, thank you.”
I swirl the champagne in my glass before adding, “Besides, I don’t have a type. You were the only one allowed to have one,” I point out.
“My type was decided by Father for me.” Her smile turns faint. “Lucky for me, I fell in love with him. Or maybe unlucky, considering how it all ended. Now I’m haunted by promises Luca never got the chance to keep.”
Her expression falls the way it always does when Luca comes up, and I instantly regret mentioning him. Even after five years, grief still clings to her.
Then, just as quickly, Isa straightens and pastes on one of her practiced smiles.
“Watch out,” she says lightly. “Maximo is arriving in three… two… one.”
I don’t turn. Why would I?
But I feel him.
“Ladies,” Maximo says as he steps up beside us. I can smell him now, something dark, expensive, and entirely too masculine. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Likewise, Signor Marco,” Isa replies with a polite smile.
I remain silent and focus on my champagne as if the carbonation is the most fascinating thing in the room. I sense his eyes on me, but I don’t budge.
“Please, we’re practically family. Call me Max.”
Family?
Hardly. He’s Mateo’s cousin, who’s my brother-in-law. That makes Maximo… what exactly? A cousin-in-law?
“As you wish,” Isa says smoothly.
“I’d like a word with your sister,” he says, and this time I do look at him.
He isn’t mincing words, is he?
I turn to him with a smile so sugary it could rot teeth.
“If you’re still trying to convince me we won that badminton match because of you, don’t bother. I would’ve won either way. I’m the reigning champion for a reason.”
He chuckles. The sound is low and warm, vibrating somewhere in my chest. It’s the kind of laugh that could make a girl forget her own name if she isn’t careful. Men in our world know how to use charm like that right before they cage you.
He raises both hands in mock surrender.
“Fair enough. I won’t bring up the game again, though I’m tempted to remind you who scored some of the winning points.”
I shake my head. My lips twitch, fighting the urge to let a real smile slip through.
“Let’s take a little walk in the garden,” he suggests.
Beside me, Isa half-chokes on her drink. I don’t blame her. A moonlit garden walk is the oldest trick in the book.
“No, thank you,” I say breezily. “That wouldn’t be appropriate. Father never approved of us being alone with a man.”
“Your father is no longer here.”
Thank God for that.
“His spirit lives on,” I reply sweetly.
I’m so enjoying this. For the first time in my life, I can use my father as a shield.
Maximo exhales a quiet laugh.
“Alright. Let’s step out onto the terrace then. You’ll be well within view out there.”
He doesn’t wait for my reply. Before I can find a witty comeback, he takes my elbow, his fingers firm through the silk of my dress. He guides me toward the open terrace doors as if my consent was never a question.
The sudden contact sends a jolt through me, more warning than heat. I throw a bewildered look over my shoulder at Isa, my eyes wide.
What the…
I mouth the words, “Stay close and rescue me.”
Ever since we were old enough to be paraded around at la famiglia functions, we’ve had signals for exactly this kind of situation.
Isa gives me a subtle thumbs-up as we step out into the cooler air of the terrace.
“Now that you’ve got me alone,” I say without missing a beat, “what would you like to talk about?”
Silence settles between us for a second. Out here, the heavy perfume and noise of the ballroom fall away, and without the crowd around us, his presence is harder to ignore.
“What are your plans now that your father is gone?”
The question catches me off guard. I hate that.
“Um.”
What is his game? Why does he want to know that?
“It’s not something I’ve had much time to consider. He’s only been dead a little over three weeks, and I’ve been helping Mari pull this memorial together.”
“Yes, I heard the flower arrangements were all your doing. You’ve got a good eye.”
His compliment warms me. I don’t want it to and try to squash that feeling.
“I love flowers. Unlike people, they’re soft, fragrant… and don’t reek of ego.”
I smile up at him sugar-sweet, and he chuckles.
“Or you could say, they’re easy to love… and don’t need a leash to behave.”
I don’t bother hiding my laugh. He’s fast.
“Or unlike people,” I counter, “they’re stunning, silent, and not obsessed with being in charge. Tempting, huh?”
“Hmm,” he drawls like he’s considering it. “No. Not tempting at all.”
Of course not.
“So what is it you want from me, Maximo? You’ve been staring at me all night.”
The playfulness vanishes, his face turning serious.
“Were you aware your father was in the final stages of arranging your marriage?”