31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
Mialina
Islam my bedroom door harder than necessary and lean against it. For several seconds, I stand there, my pulse racing, replaying the whole encounter in the hallway.
His hand braced beside my head. That intense look in his eyes. The way he’d filled the space until there seemed to be nowhere else to focus but on him.
And when he looked down at my mouth…
Heat creeps into my cheeks.
I squeeze my eyes shut. This is ridiculous.
I’m still furious that he thinks he can issue orders.
And yet…
I’d be lying to myself if I pretended I wasn’t attracted to Maximo Marco. The man looks unfairly good in a suit. Which is unfortunate, considering the personality attached to it.
I make a strangled sound and throw myself face-first onto the bed.
You have no idea what it did to me, not knowing where you were.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
Why would he care?
Perhaps he was worried that his selected broodmare had run off. Who would provide him with his six heirs then?
But he sounded so sincere. I didn’t like how quickly my anger faded after that.
Argh.
I turn my head and bury my face in the pillow. A soft knock sounds at the door, but I don’t answer. It opens anyway.
“Mialina?”
I groan into my pillow. “Go away.”
The mattress dips moments later. Mamma sits beside me and gently strokes a hand through my hair.
“I take it you’re upset.”
I move my head enough to scowl at her.
“Remarkably perceptive.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “I’m a mother. We occasionally notice these things.”
Her hand continues smoothing through my hair. The familiar gesture chips away at my irritation despite my best efforts.
“Do you know what nobody asked me?”
Mamma frowns. “Mia—”
“No, seriously.” I sit up, my throat tight. “Nobody asked what I did today or if I enjoyed Chicago.”
Mamma’s expression softens.
“I got to be me.” The words leave me in a rush. “Not an Accardi or a Leonardi, or a future wife certain people keep making plans for.”
I blink back the tears threatening to spill over.
“I was just Mia.”
For a long moment, neither of us says anything.
“Then I walked through the front door and within thirty seconds everybody was discussing me like I was some kind of security incident.”
Mamma closes her eyes. When she opens them again, there’s something painfully familiar in her expression.
“I know.” The simple words steal some of the wind from my sails. A sad smile touches her lips. “More than you realize.”
Suddenly she looks older than usual.
“I’ve spent my entire life living under somebody else’s expectations. First your grandfather’s, then your father’s. To be honest, I don’t know what freedom feels like. It’s not a luxury women like us are given.”
I stare at her. “That’s not fair.”
“No.” Her smile turns wistful. “It isn’t.”
The answer catches me off guard. I expected an argument. Instead, she sounds tired.
“I wish I could tell you the world works differently, tesoro, but wishing has never changed reality. We don’t get to pretend the rules of our world don’t exist simply because we don’t like them.”
I don’t answer.
“It’s only because of your father’s death that I’ve been able to push those rules further than most mothers can. You and your sisters can choose your own husbands. But they still have to be men from our world. Anything else would put all of you in danger.”
My thoughts drift to Isa. Right now she’s trying to build an ordinary life with Sebastian. One outside our world.
Mamma’s words leave an uncomfortable knot in my stomach.
Maybe she’s overly cautious. Or maybe I’m the one refusing to see the reality she’s lived with her entire life.
“So you’re saying Aldo and Maximo were right?” I ask to take my mind off my sister and the possible consequences of her elopement with a non-Mafia man.
“I’m saying there’s a difference between being wrong and being reckless.”
Letting out a huff, I fold my arms. “I went for coffee.”
“You dismissed trained security.”
“Because nobody told me I had guards on me.”
“That part,” she admits, “could have been handled better.”
Understatement of the century.
Mamma reaches for my hand. “Mia, what Aldo said downstairs is valid.”
I look away, not wanting to hear it all again.
“The contract with the Irish still exists.”
I hate hearing it out loud.
“But Father is dead and the engagement was never announced.”
“True.”
I latch onto that immediately.
“Then why does everybody keep acting like I’m one phone call away from being kidnapped and dragged to an altar?”
Mamma’s fingers tighten around mine. “Because it could happen. Powerful men have started wars over less.”
Some of my irritation drains away. Not because I agree, but because I know she isn’t exaggerating.
“The contract may never become an issue,” she continues.
“But?” I ask when she pauses a little too long.
“But there’s no guarantee.”
I hate that she makes sense, but it doesn’t change how today felt.
“I just wanted one day.” My voice comes out smaller than intended. “One day where nobody expected anything from me.”
Mamma pulls me into a hug before I can object. “Oh, tesoro.”
I let myself lean into her.
“You’re allowed to be upset,” she murmurs.
I close my eyes. “Good. Because I really am.”
A laugh escapes her before she pulls back.
“Now put on a nice dress and come down for dinner. You can tell us all about today’s adventure.”
I squint at her, a little of my earlier good mood returning. I do want to tell her and my sisters about today. Well… most of it. The boudoir photo shoot can remain my secret.
“Fine,” I finally agree. “Maximo is gone, right?”
Amusement flickers across Mamma’s face.
“That eager to avoid him?” she teases.
My cheeks betray me with a blush. “Answer the question.”
She chuckles. “Fear not, Maximo has left.”
Good. I’ve had enough of the man for one day.
Actually… for always.