9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Mialina
Irush down the hallway, my pulse still racing from what just happened.
My lips are still tingling, and there’s heat lingering low in my body that refuses to go away. Every time I take a breath, I swear I can still taste the espresso on his lips.
I stop beside a hallway mirror and brace a hand against the cold gold frame. I look… wrecked.
My hair is mussed, my cheeks are flushed an incriminating shade of pink, and my mouth is swollen.
Argh! That man.
I hate him.
My body is a traitor too. I glare at my reflection before stomping away in search of my sisters. Not that I’m going to tell them any of what just transpired.
How could I have let this happen?
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that might get rid of the image of his hooded gaze.
Kissing Maximo Marco was a mistake.
A huge one. Possibly the worst lapse in judgment of my life so far.
And it was my first kiss.
Of all the men in the world, he had to be the one.
That isn’t how I imagined it happening. I always knew Father would eventually choose a husband for me, but somewhere along the way, I suppose I decided my first kiss would belong to me.
Maybe it would be with someone I liked, or at least someone I chose for myself, even if only for that one moment.
An arrogant Mafia Don who cornered me on a garden bench and kissed me like he’d already decided I belonged to him never, ever entered that fantasy.
Damn him for stealing it like he had every right to.
Stupid, conceited stronzo.
And damn me for keeping it on replay. The way his mouth softened against mine the longer we kissed until I forgot I was supposed to be pushing him away. The heat…
No. Stop it right there.
I open the door to the sitting room and peek inside, but neither Mari nor Isa are there.
Dammit. Where are they?
I lean against the doorframe, trying to think. Trying being the operative word.
My brain still feels like mush. It only makes my irritation worse. With him, with me, with… everything.
Maybe Isa and Mari are in the library. The sun is lovely in there in the mornings.
I straighten, smoothing my dress with trembling hands.
I’m calm, collected, and in control.
I repeat this to myself over and over again. No man will rattle me. Especially not that one.
As I move through the large corridors, my mind drifts.
I need a plan to get back home to our estate. I can’t stay here and risk running into him again.
I’d never survive that smug look on his face after the way I kissed him back. He’d probably take one glance at me and somehow know I’ve spent every minute since I ran away thinking about his mouth.
Mortifying doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Then a thought hits me so suddenly I stop walking.
The problem is that Maximo was my first kiss. Obviously, that’s why it feels so huge.
So if I kiss someone else, preferably someone normal, then Maximo won’t be the only experience I can obsess over. The memory of him will fade. It has to. It’s basic math.
I’ll find someone else. Someone kind, who doesn’t look at me like I’m an acquisition. And then Maximo Marco will finally stop taking up so much space in my head.
That’s a brilliant plan. Foolproof!
I feel better already.
Pleased with myself, I walk a little faster and find Isa sitting in the library near the French doors, her nose buried in a book.
“I’m going home,” I declare. “I can’t stay here another minute.”
My voice comes out higher than usual. So much for calm and collected.
“What happened?” my sister asks, her expression shifting from relaxed to alarm in a heartbeat as she takes me in.
Ah, that’s right. I look pretty disheveled.
“Nothing,” I’m quick to assure her, letting myself fall onto the sofa beside her.
I know perfectly well that collapsing like this doesn’t exactly scream nothing happened, but I’m too exhausted to maintain the facade.
Isa sets her book aside, her eyes narrowing.
“Did you have another run-in with Maximo?”
I nod, staring at a spot on the rug.
“What did he want this time?” she asks, a tinge of wariness creeping into her voice.
I frown, trying to summon the details of our conversation. Usually, I can recite every detail of what someone said, but right now, that kiss keeps pushing everything else aside.
“Umm…” I stall, forcing myself to think about anything other than his mouth.
She raises an eyebrow at me.
“He… he asked me what my favorite flower was, so he could plant it for me in Chicago.”
Isa laughs. “He’s persistent. I’ll give him that.”
“Well, yeah… I don’t want to stick around for more.”
The door opens and Mariella steps through, her brow furrowed the second she sees me slumped against the cushions.
“Can you arrange a driver for me, Mari? I need to go home,” I tell her before she can even greet us.
“Of course,” she says, taking a seat in the armchair opposite Isa and me.
“Does this have anything to do with Maximo?” she asks.
“Yep, his wooing of Mia continues,” Isa quips, leaning back.
“What part of my interaction with him could possibly be described as wooing?” I demand, my outrage finally sparking some life back into me. “Isn’t that meant to involve things a woman actually enjoys? Flowers, chocolates, sweet attention?”
Isa chuckles. “Well, he certainly is giving you attention. And he did offer to plant your favorite flowers.”
“He did?” Mari asks, surprised.
“In Chicago,” I deadpan, “at his house. Where we’ll live once we’re married, according to him.”
Mari’s mouth falls open.
“Exactly,” I say, pointing at it. “See why I need to get away? Why would I voluntarily stick around for this level of delusion?”
“Got it,” Mari says, pulling out her phone. Her thumbs fly across the screen. “I’ll have a car ready in ten minutes.”
“Has Mateo found out anything about the Irish yet?”
I need an answer that tells me my life wasn’t signed away like a piece of livestock.
“He spoke with Uberto last night and got him on the case. He’s also talking with Maximo now.”
Mari studies me for a moment, her gaze soft but observant before it settles on my lips. My stomach drops. Can she tell we kissed?
“Did anything else happen in the garden, Mia?”
“Nope,” I answer too quickly. “Isn’t him telling me to just give in enough?”
I leave out the part where I actually did give in for a few shameful, intoxicating seconds.
“I suppose,” Mari muses, “but Maximo looked incredibly smug when he walked into Teo’s office just now. More so than usual.”
I can picture it perfectly. The slight curve of his lips, the way he probably adjusted his cufflinks like he’d just gotten exactly what he wanted.
“He’s always smug,” I reply. “He probably enjoys the sound of his own voice. Anyway, I’ll pick up my things from here once he’s gone. I want to leave while he’s occupied with Mateo.”
I don’t care if that makes me look like I’m running away. If I’m a coward, I’m a cowardly girl with a plan.
After today, I’m not going to see him again. Ever.
Hallelujah.
He can’t get on that private jet of his and leave Sicily soon enough. I’ll stay at the Accardi estate, find someone normal to kiss, and put this morning behind me.
Maximo Marco can become somebody else’s problem.