29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mialina
On the ride back to Aldo’s, I feel freer than I ever have.
Today has been the best day.
Even the cold Chicago air rushing against my face doesn’t bother me as Rory threads her motorcycle through the afternoon traffic.
I take in the glass skyscrapers glinting in the low winter sun and the lake looking as though it’s covered in diamonds.
By the time Rory drops me off near Aldo’s gates, I’m frozen all over again, but smiling from ear to ear.
“I’m never going to survive being trapped in a mansion again now,” I tell her while climbing off the bike.
“Welcome to the outside world.” She grins, pulling off her helmet. “Next time, I’m showing you Chicago after dark.”
“That’s if they let me out again,” I chuckle. “They won’t have liked me ditching security.”
“Security who’s been following us home.” Rory points to a car that’s stopped down the road. “They knew where you were.”
Oh, I hadn’t even noticed.
“Well, at least they left me alone. That’s something.”
She hooks an arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze.
“Don’t let them make you regret today,” Rory says, putting her helmet back on.
Never.
Today I laughed, explored, and took risks. I’d caught a glimpse of a version of myself I’d never met before. And I’m not ready to let her go.
“I’ll see you soon.” I wave goodbye to Rory and head toward the massive gates.
The smaller gate beside them opens before I reach it, one of the guards giving me a polite nod.
“Would you like us to drive you up to the house, Miss Accardi?” one of them asks, gesturing toward a vehicle parked to the side.
“No, thank you. I’ll walk.”
God knows what lies ahead when I return to the house. Let me hang on to feeling this good for as long as possible.
The front doors open when I get there. Simon stands waiting, inclining his head politely.
“Miss Accardi.”
“Simon.” I smile as I step inside, peeling off my gloves. “I hope you had a good day.”
“Thank you, I did.” His expression remains professionally neutral. “Your mother is waiting for you in the sitting room.”
Ah. Of course.
The first crack appears in my happy mood.
Mamma waiting rarely means anything good. Inwardly groaning, I take my time unzipping my coat and shrugging it off.
Fortifying myself with a deep breath, I hand my jacket, scarf and hat to Simon and make my way to the sitting room.
I’m hanging on tight to the lingering high from today. Honestly, every second was worth it. I’d do it again tomorrow if I could.
The thought makes me smile as I walk down the hallway. The doors stand half-open, and I step inside to find Mamma seated on one of the cream sofas.
Her spine is perfectly straight and her hands are folded neatly in her lap. Sienna and Ari sit nearby with a tablet resting between them, though neither is paying attention to whatever is on the screen.
Normally, they’d jump up to greet me. The fact that they don’t definitely means trouble.
“Well,” I say, “everyone looks very serious.”
Mamma’s gaze moves over me, as if checking that I’m alright before lingering on my windswept face.
“Mialina.”
Uh-oh. Full name.
Mamma has always been supportive of our interests and little quirks. But when it comes to how an Accardi daughter should conduct herself, it’s a different matter. When Father was alive, she enforced those standards almost as strictly as he did.
These days she’s more relaxed, but not when it comes to the expectations attached to our family name.
Usually, I’d already be preparing an apology. But today, all I can think about is the wind in my hair, the city rushing past, and the freedom I’d enjoyed for a few glorious hours.
I move farther into the room, refusing to let the day unravel this quickly.
“Before you say anything, Mamma, I had a wonderful day.”
Sienna bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile. Mamma, however, doesn’t look amused. She exhales slowly, already seeming exhausted by me.
“That’s wonderful.” Her tone makes it sound sarcastic.
Huh. Mamma doesn’t do sarcasm.
“Did you consider for even one second the consequences of ditching your security? Or that we would be worried?”
I bite back an exasperated sigh.
Of course I’d considered the risk. It was negligible.
I’d hardly disappeared off the face of the earth. I’d spent a few hours exploring Chicago, not joined a criminal syndicate. After all, there’s no need for that, I’m already part of one.
Before I can answer, the tension in the room intensifies. It’s like I can feel his disapproval before I can even see him.
Why is he here? This has nothing to do with him.
The faint sound of approaching footsteps comes from the hallway. Two sets. Annoyingly, my pulse speeds up.
Aldo enters first, calm but grave, one hand sliding into the pocket of his suit jacket. Looking at him, you’d think I’d committed a crime instead of spending an afternoon sightseeing.
Maximo walks in next. The second I see him, every remaining trace of my good mood evaporates.
He looks livid.
It’s not written all over his face the way it was with Father. It’s in the coolness of his eyes, the rigid set of his shoulders and the way he somehow appears even more controlled than usual.
A knot grows in my stomach.
This isn’t the version of Maximo I’ve been trading barbs with. This is the Don. And judging by his expression, the Don is not pleased.
I can’t say I’m a fan of that, especially when I’ve done nothing wrong. I spent a few hours by myself, for heaven’s sake. It’s not like they didn’t work out where I was. The car following us home made that clear.
I straighten my posture and lift my chin a little higher.
The gesture feels considerably less convincing when his dark gaze locks onto mine, and I have the bizarre sensation that the room just became smaller.
My sisters exchange a glance before getting to their feet and leaving the room.
Aldo closes the door behind them. Meanwhile, Mamma rises from the sofa, smoothing a hand over the front of her dress.
I eye them warily as silence settles over the room. I’m tempted to point out that they’re overreacting.
But if I learned anything from my late, scheming father, it’s to never speak first.
I can play this game just as well as they can.
“Mialina,” Aldo says. “You cannot disappear into a city like Chicago without informing anybody.”
And so the lecture begins. I fold my arms.
“I didn’t disappear.”
“You dismissed trained security personnel,” he says sternly.
“Temporarily.”
“That doesn’t improve the situation.” Maximo speaks this time.
I turn to him. He pins me with his stare.
“It improves the word choice,” I fire back.
I look back at Aldo. “Besides, nobody told me I would be having guards with me, or I would have explained that I didn’t need them. I went for coffee with a friend, not into a war zone.”
“That’s not the point,” Mamma says.
“What’s the point then? Huh? That I had some fun like a normal nineteen-year-old?”
“You’re not a normal nineteen-year-old.” Maximo’s voice slices through the room.
It’s low and carries an edge I’ve not heard from him before. The warning in it is unmistakable.
Surrender now, or you won’t like what happens.
Really, I don’t care.
I won’t be shoved back into a box that’s labeled ‘perfect obedient little mafia bride’.
I meet his stare without flinching. It’s stupid, I know that. Going head-to-head with a don can only end badly.
Unfortunately, the part of me that spent the day ditching security and posing for semi-nude photographs seems to be in charge.
“I was wondering how long it would take before someone reminded me what behavior is and isn’t acceptable.”
“You put yourself in danger,” he says, deadly calm, even though his eyes tell me just how furious he is with me.
“You climbed out of a window—”
“It was on the ground floor,” I cut him off. “It wasn’t like I could fall far.”
A muscle ticks in Maximo’s jaw. It’s a tiny tell. Barely noticeable, but every instinct I possess tells me I should back down.
“Do not interrupt me when I’m speaking, Mialina.” His voice is quiet and ice-cold.
I narrow my eyes at him, my temper overriding common sense.
“Or what, Maximo?” I challenge. “You are not my Don.”
Silence stretches between us. Neither of us looks away.
He takes a step closer, and I resist the urge to take one back.
“While you are in my city, I am.”
My pulse stutters.
I open my mouth to tell him where he can shove that statement, but Mamma intervenes before I get the chance.
“You are treating this too lightly, Mia.”
“Because everybody else treats it too heavily.”
“You made yourself vulnerable today,” Aldo says. “First by dismissing your security, and then by climbing onto the back of a motorcycle driven by someone you barely know.”
Heat flashes through me.
“Rory isn’t a stranger.”
Maximo’s gaze never leaves mine. “You only met her yesterday.”
“So? She’s not a serial killer.”
“That’s your defense?”
His tone remains eerily calm, which only irritates me more.
“Nothing happened.”
“That doesn’t make your decision intelligent.”
I glare at him.
“You carry a name that makes it unsafe for you to be out and about in the city alone,” Mamma tries again. “Your sisters do too—”
“Nobody knows who I am here,” I cut in.
Aldo exhales through his nose, as if he saw that response coming.
“You’re wrong. Our enemies watch us closely. The Romeros will know by now that you are here. And that means the Irish who have a wedding contract with you, do as well.”
“Oh.” The word slips out before I can stop it. Because that part, unfortunately, makes sense.
Dammit. I hate when sensible people ruin perfectly good arguments.
Maximo takes another slow step forward.
“You will not do it again.”
The tone he’s using rubs me the wrong way.
A moment ago, I might even have agreed with their reasoning. But this?
“You don’t get to dictate what I do,” I fire back.
“While you are in Chicago and under my protection, you will do as you’re told.”
Oh, he didn’t just say that. I’m not one of his subjects.
Misogynistic, dictatorial ass… bastard… tyrant.
Thankfully, I possess enough self-preservation not to say that out loud.
Or maybe not.
“You know what?”
My laugh comes out sharp.
“Go to hell.”