15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Mialina
The clink of cutlery fades as everyone finishes dinner. Mamma folds her napkin and places it beside her empty plate, smiling as she looks around the table.
“I have some news to share,” she says with a soft smile. “We will all be going to Chicago in ten days. Aldo invited us. He’s arranged for Don Maximo’s jet to pick us up.”
My spoon slips from my fingers, and I blink at Mamma.
Please let me have misheard her.
Sienna and I exchange a look. Her brows lift, and when I glance at Isa, she’s gone unnaturally still.
“Chicago?” I repeat, my voice coming out higher than usual. A strange tightness starts to build beneath my ribs.
Of course, we all knew this day would come. Mamma and Aldo have spoken every day for the past five and a half weeks, and somehow their calls keep getting longer. I’d been praying the distance might cool things between them, but apparently God has better things to do than answer my pleas.
The same goes for Maximo.
Every Sunday, without fail, another ridiculous arrangement of flowers arrives with a gift I have no intention of opening. I send the gift straight back. The following Sunday, another one appears.
Rejection really does only encourage him. And now I’m supposed to go to his city?
No. Not happening.
“Why so soon?” Isa asks, her voice strained too.
She seems to like the idea of visiting the Windy City as much as I do. Why, though?
She’s been acting a little weird lately. I need to get to the bottom of that.
“Aldo’s been asking for a while. He invited us for Christmas, but I thought it was too soon. Now seems like the right time.”
No, it definitely doesn’t.
“Yay, I finally get to fly,” Ari cheers. “How long are we going for? And can we take Rufus with us?”
“No. The cat will stay here,” Mamma replies firmly.
Ari pouts. She loves that cat.
“We’re going for at least two or three weeks. We’ll see how things go.” Mamma’s smile widens.
We’ll see how things go?
My pulse kicks harder.
Two or three weeks is bad enough. But what happens if things go well?
My stomach drops to the center of the earth. I want to follow it. The liquid, hot core of the planet is preferable to Chicago.
Flowers and presents are one thing when Maximo is thousands of miles away. I can hand them to a maid and send them straight back without ever having to look at him.
Chicago will be different.
He’ll be there.
The memory of the garden comes back with humiliating clarity. His hand at the back of my neck. His mouth on mine. The way I forgot for far too long that I was supposed to be pushing him away.
What if he tries again?
Or worse. What if he tries again and I let him?
Oh God. I don’t want to deal with that. He’ll probably declare us engaged.
“I can stay here,” I say quickly.
Mamma’s gaze snaps to mine. “No.”
“I don’t need to come. I’m nineteen. I’m an adult. You’ll only be gone a few weeks.”
“All of us are going,” she says sternly.
“But—”
“Mialina.” Her voice leaves no room for argument. “I’m not leaving any of my daughters behind right now.”
Something in the way she says it makes me pause.
“Why?”
Mamma glances toward Isa before looking back at me. “Things here are unsettled enough that I would rather have you girls with me. That’s all you need to know.”
That does absolutely nothing to make me feel better.
“But I don’t want to go to Chicago,” I try one more time. “It’s freezing there.” I say the first thing that pops into my head that isn’t Maximo Marco as a reason to stay here.
“You’re coming.” Mamma’s tone is unyielding. She doesn’t use it often, but when she does, we know better than to argue.
Merda. I’m heading straight into the lion’s den.
I sink back into my chair, trying to slow my breathing. It’s not working.
“So when you say you’ll see how things go, you mean whether you want to get serious with Aldo?” I ask, hoping she’ll tell me I misunderstood.
Mamma’s expression softens at the mention of Aldo’s name. Dammit, that’s a bad sign.
“I suppose that’s part of it.”
The tightness beneath my ribs climbs higher. I’m going to be sick.
I feel like the worst daughter ever, but right now I wish Aldo would just break things off.
He’s been nothing but good to her and has never given me a reason not to trust him. But getting serious with Aldo means more Chicago, and worse, more Maximo.
Suddenly I can’t get past that.
Mamma simply cannot choose a man whose entire life is tied to the Marco family.
“Do you really want to bind yourself to another tyrant?”
Mamma’s smile disappears.
“Aldo isn’t a tyrant. He’s been nothing but respectful and kind. I’m—”
“He’s consigliere to Maximo Marco. The same position Father wanted here so he could wield more power. He—”
“Mia, do not interrupt me when I’m speaking.” Mamma’s sharp tone stops me.
“Aldo is not your father. And I’m not binding myself to anyone. I’m exploring my options,” she says, more calmly now. “Believe me, I’ve learned from my mistakes. I can spot the red flags.”
A stab of guilt hits me. I know she’s right. Aldo has done nothing to deserve being compared to Father.
Isa shoots me a look, begging me to stop. I cross my arms and bite back everything else I want to say.
“We want you to be happy, Mamma,” Isa says, trying to smooth things over. “With or without a man.”
My mood is ruined for the rest of the day. I keep fantasizing about running away to somewhere nobody knows my name or gives a damn what family I come from.
But I’m realistic enough to know that fantasy would fall apart quickly.
I don’t have my own money or a formal education, and my work experience amounts to organizing events, arranging flowers, and smiling politely through mafia functions.
I suppose I could learn to waitress, but balancing plates while creepy men slap my ass doesn’t exactly scream freedom either.
So Chicago and dealing with the insufferable mafia don it is.
Wonderful.
How do I prepare myself for whatever awaits me there?
Like Maximo staring at me with that infuriatingly calm expression, as if he already knows how this ends. He’ll probably have more dandelion root tea waiting for me.
That stupid kiss replays in my head again. The way he took control so easily, my body reacting to him before my brain caught up.
No. Stop it.
But that’s easier said than done. It was one foolish moment, and weeks later I still haven’t managed to erase it or replace it with a better one.
Maybe I’ll have more luck in Chicago finding the right man for the task.
Hmm, that thought actually makes me smile.
I walk down the corridor to my room, but stop in front of Isa’s door. Her reaction to the news of our impending Chicago trip was a bit of a mystery.
I have a good reason to want to avoid the Windy City, but she doesn’t. Unless she’s keeping a secret. And I’m going to find out.
I knock lightly and open her door. The room is dark and quiet.
“Are you asleep yet?” I whisper, peering over to her bed, but it’s empty.
“I’m over here,” Isa says, and I find her sitting on the wide windowsill, hugging her knees to her chest while the sea glitters beyond the garden.
Her phone glows faintly in her hands. That thing has practically become an extra limb whenever she’s in the privacy of her room.
She leans forward, and the moonlight catches her face. She looks… guilty.
Hmm.
I cross the floor, hop onto the wide sill right beside her, and lean my shoulder against hers.
“I’ve seen you sneaking out a few times,” I say as casually as I can.
Her cheeks flush, and she glances away.
I chuckle. “Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice. That, and you’re spending an awful lot of time on your phone.”
I pointedly stare at the glowing device in her hand.
“And I bet you’re not just trading crypto.”
That’s been Isa’s thing for years. Nobody knows about it but Mari and me. She started back when we still believed Luca might be alive, and she was planning to find him. It was her way of funding the search.
Hmm. Maybe I should get her to teach me so I can make my own money.
“Shh.” She taps her finger against her lips. “Remember, no one knows about that.”
“So who are you on the phone with?”
“Promise not to tell anyone.”
“Scout’s honor.” I raise two fingers dramatically.
“You’ve never been in the Scouts,” Isa retorts, nudging me in the side.
“Mafia princess’s honor?”
Isa considers that. “Yeah, that will do.”
I lean forward, resting my chin on my knees while watching her.
“Well?” I prompt.
She hesitates, then the words leave her in a rush.
“Sebastian Moretti.”
I blink. “Who’s that? Should I know him?”
She shakes her head. “He’s not in the Mafia. That’s what I want, Mia. I want out.”
Oh. This is serious. She talked about wanting out at the memorial, but I didn’t realize she was actually doing something about it.
“Not a bad plan,” I admit. “Marry a civilian. Why haven’t I thought of that? Where did you find him?”
“I ran into him on my birthday on the way back from the restrooms at the restaurant. Then, by pure chance, he was at the same café as me just before Christmas.”
I think back to Isa’s birthday dinner.
“I remember you with a hot guy before the kitchen fire. That was him?” I fan myself dramatically, making Isa giggle.
“Yeah, he’s hot. And he’s got the most intense blue eyes.”
“So you’ve been seeing him all that time?” I ask, offended that I’m only hearing about this now.
“No. He gave me his card that second time, but I only got in touch with him a couple of weeks ago.”
That placates me slightly.
“What’s he like?”
“He’s the most direct man I’ve ever met,” she says quietly. “But he’s respectful and kind. And most importantly, he doesn’t want a fling. He’s the heir to his family’s real-estate business and needs to settle down soon.”
“Hmm.” I tilt my head. “Sounds like it could be mutually beneficial.”
Isa goes quiet.
“Do you love him?” I ask.
“What? No.” Her laugh is small. “Mia, it’s been two weeks. Nobody falls in love that quickly.”
“Don Gualtiero did,” I point out. “And Mateo too, once Mari was on his radar.”
“Yeah, well. They’re the exception.” Isa stares out toward the sea. “I like Sebastian. Being with him is…” She searches for the right word. “Easy.”
I suppose that’s a good start.
“Could you love him one day?” I ask more gently. “Because I don’t want to see you unhappy in your marriage, Isa. We’ve had enough of that in our family already.”
She pauses, twisting the edge of her shirt between her fingers. I know Luca is still there somewhere in the back of her mind. He probably always will be. But she can’t mourn him forever.
“Yes,” she says finally. “I think I could grow to love him.”
But I can hear the doubt in her voice.
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
“Probably,” she admits. “But maybe that’s okay, and this is how it happens. You choose someone because it makes sense, and the rest comes later. There’s attraction, and I enjoy his kisses. I like who I am when I’m with him. That has to mean something, right?”
I stare out toward the dark water for a few moments, letting the new information settle.
“And you’ve done a background check?” I ask. “Is he really who he says he is?”
“It’s all clear,” she confirms. Luca taught her a thing or two about computers and digging into people years ago. Apparently, it comes in handy now.
“And he’s a good kisser? Because you really don’t want a dud if you’re going to stay with him.”
Memories of the boy on the beach resurface. That was such a letdown. I stop myself from thinking about the only other kiss I’ve had.
Isa grins. “Yeah. He’s a very good kisser.”
I nod approvingly.
“Well then. If he’s normal, financially stable, and attractive, go for it. God knows what might be forced on us otherwise.”
The words come out lighter than they feel. Mamma might let us choose our own husbands, but that doesn’t mean other people won’t have plans for us.
It makes sense now why Isa wasn’t thrilled about a Chicago trip. Two or three weeks, maybe even longer, could derail everything she’s trying to do. She can’t let that happen, not when she’s so close to finally creating something for herself.
“If you’re sure about this, you should stay back when we go to Chicago and close the deal.”
Isa goes still beside me. Then she looks at me, determination shining in her eyes.
“You’re right. This is my chance.”