39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Maximo
Mia appears to be on the verge of tears. Her posture is rigid, as if she’s trying to hold herself together.
The sight unsettles me.
A moment ago she wanted to debate with me about tactical cat retrieval operations. Now she’s standing in front of me with her back turned, staring at the alley as though she’s suddenly developed a passionate interest in dumpsters and dirty snow.
“Hey, little rebel,” I say, keeping my voice low. “What’s going on?”
She shakes her head, keeping her chin tucked down.
My chest tightens.
“Mia.”
She shakes her head again. I need to see her face.
I place a hand on her shoulder and gently turn her toward me. She’s staring at my coat, her lower lip trembling. Cupping her chin, I tilt her face until she has no choice but to look at me.
“Talk to me,” I say softly.
She hesitates, searching my face as though weighing whether to answer.
I force the edge from my expression. The last thing I want is for her to retreat from me.
“I know it’s silly,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because nothing bad happened.”
Her fingers twist together between us.
“But I can’t stop thinking about what could have happened. What if I’d lost Ari? What if the Romero thugs had taken her?”
A sharp hitch catches in her throat. She breaks off, blinking hard.
Fuck. The sight of her fighting tears does something ugly to me.
“I could never forgive myself,” she whispers. “My sisters are under my care. I’m responsible for them.”
Fear lingers behind her eyes and she’s carrying guilt for something that never even happened.
Every instinct I possess demands that I fix this, even though there’s nothing left to fix. So how do I make it better?
A loose strand of dark hair has fallen across her cheek. I brush it back behind her ear without thinking.
“Mia.”
Her gaze lifts to mine. There’s so much vulnerability in her eyes that it catches me off guard. This woman is usually all fire and sharp-tongued defiance.
Seeing her like this seems wrong.
I don’t do comfort. I deal with problems. Yet standing here with her looking at me as though the world is less certain than it was half an hour ago, all I can think about is making sure she never has to carry something like this alone.
“Everything worked out,” I say quietly.
“Because you were here,” she says. “Because you took over.”
“You would have dealt with it just as well.”
She shakes her head, a tear finally spilling over. “I’m not so sure.”
“I am,” I counter, leaving no room for her to doubt herself. “You kept it together until Ari was safe. You stayed focused when it mattered. What you’re feeling now is the adrenaline crash. That’s normal.”
I catch the tear with my thumb before it can travel any farther down her cheek.
That does me in.
Before I can reconsider, I wrap my arms around her and pull her flush against me.
She stiffens for half a second, remembering that we’re supposed to be on opposite sides of this fight. Then she exhales and something inside her seems to give way.
The tension leaves her as she settles against me, no longer trying to argue, push back, or put distance between us.
She lets me hold her.
Maybe it’s only because she’s overwhelmed. Her walls will probably go back up the moment she pulls herself together.
I don’t care.
Right now she’s here, in my arms, trusting me enough to lean on me when she needs it. I don’t know when that became something I wanted. I only know that I do.
“Just because we’re hugging doesn’t mean it changes anything,” she mutters, her voice muffled by my coat.
A small smile tugs at my mouth. “I know. We can take up our sparring again tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she whispers, melting into me more.
She winds her arms around my waist. The gesture is so unexpected that it takes me a few seconds to absorb the fact that she’s holding on to me.
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat and tighten my arms around her, pulling her a little closer as I lower my face into her hair. She smells of the winter cold and the citrus soap she uses at Aldo’s.
I like the feel of her in my arms. It’s dangerously addictive.
“Or,” I say, the possessive urge rearing its head, “you could just agree to marry me.”
She lets out a soft huff against my chest. “You haven’t even proposed properly.”
“That’s not how arranged marriages work.”
“There’s no arrangement between us,” she shoots back, a spark of her fire returning to her tone. “You just decided that’s what you wanted.”
“True,” I concede, nuzzling her hair and breathing her in. “So, if I proposed properly, you’d say yes?”
“No, definitely not.”
I chuckle, the vibration rumbling between our chests.
“So you want me to ask purely so you can reject me?”
“Absolutely.”
“That’s diabolical.”
“Yes, see? I’d make a terrible wife.”
She makes a half-hearted attempt to pull away, but I don’t loosen my arms around her. Not yet.
“I feel better now, thank you,” she says. “You can let go of me.”
Instead of releasing her, I lean down and press a soft kiss to the top of her head.
“Never.”
She tilts her head backward, peering up at me through her lashes. Instead of her usual teasing or sharp comeback, her dark eyes search mine with quiet sincerity.
There’s no sarcasm left in her gaze, no defensive wall to break through. She’s letting me see her.
“Thank you again,” she says, her voice earnest. “I needed that hug.”
I nod, not knowing what else to do. It takes far more willpower than it should to loosen my arms and let her step back.
Cold air rushes into the empty space between us, and instantly I miss her warmth.
Not wanting to dwell on that realization, I pull my phone from my pocket.
“Bring the vehicle around,” I tell one of my men. “And contact West Loop Veterinary. Tell them we’re coming.”
Mia’s attention snaps toward me.
“The cat’s going to a vet?”
I glance toward the animal bundled in Ari’s arms. She’s sitting on one of the overturned pallets, softly singing to calm the cat.
The sight is unexpectedly endearing. A lot of things seem to fall into that category this afternoon.
“The cat is injured,” I say, stating the obvious. “The clinic works with several shelters. If it recovers, they’ll place it.”
Ari stands up. “Why can’t I keep it?”
Mia and I exchange a look. I raise my eyebrows, telling her I’m leaving this conversation to her.
She clears her throat. “We’ll be going home to Sicily soon. We can’t burden Aldo or his staff with a cat. It will be much better off being placed with a family where it will be loved.”
Going home to Sicily.
Mia says it so casually, unaware of the irritation it stirs in me. I’ve become accustomed to thinking of her future in Chicago as an inevitability. Hearing her continue to discuss her departure as though it’s a foregone conclusion is strangely jarring.
I’ll let it go for now, not bothering to argue. Mia won’t be returning to Sicily.
Not only because she’ll be my wife, but because her mother will be living here. She’ll understand that soon enough.
Still, I doubt Aldo would want a cat roaming his house.
The SUVs arrive. Sienna opens her door and hops out. Relief is obvious on Mia’s face as she sees her. The two of them walk over to Ari, and Mia slips an arm around her shoulders.
“Let’s get this little cat looked after, shall we?”
Ari nods. I can tell she hasn’t given up hope of taking it home.
I watch Mia with her sisters. She’s fiercely protective of them. The responsibility isn’t something she wears because she’s expected to. It seems woven into her.
The moment Ari disappeared, Mia stopped caring about everything else. All that mattered was finding her sister.
It’s the kind of instinct that can’t be taught.
Mia Accardi would never become one of those cold, detached Mafia wives who hand their children off to staff and call it motherhood. She’d be hands-on. Protective without making them soft.
I smile. I chose well.