Chapter 2 - Mila
The restaurant is exactly the scenery change I’ve been needing, but I don’t know why my brother has brought me here.
The tablecloths are pristine and white while warm, natural light washes over everything, and the clientele talks quietly among themselves. It’s the kind of place where nothing happens, since everything costs too much and nobody wants to cause a scene.
For whatever reason, I feel more like a child sitting at the table with Cesare and one of his men, spine unnaturally straight as I push against an unspoken pressure to be quiet and still.
The man laughs at something my brother says, but I don’t catch the joke, or even pretend to. My mind is elsewhere…on stage with a vaguely sticky floor and a microphone that passed through numerous hands before reaching mine.
While it wasn’t one of my first shows, the one from a few nights ago lingers in my mind while I swear I can still feel the thrum of the music moving through me, and the rush of having those eyes on me, listening intently.
It’s not something I should be thinking about here, especially not with Cesare in close proximity, but it’s hard not to. No matter how many times I do it, singing cracks me open in some strange, vulnerable way. It lets me be someone outside of my name and everyone’s expectations.
In a perfect world, I could tell my brothers about my performances. I’d be able to share in that joy with them, and they’d accept it. Maybe they’d even be impressed if they came to a show. But this situation is far from perfect, and if I ever let them know, I could kiss it all goodbye.
Every time I go out could be my last, that is, if Vince ever decides he’s done protecting my secret. Though, since he’s technically complicit now, I have the feeling he won’t squeal on me out of fear of what my brothers might do if they knew he was letting me sneak out.
I hate how that fact alone brings me comfort, but I know it won’t be enough to stop me from going again.
“Relax,” Cesare says, giving me a light nudge with his elbow, breaking my trance. “You look like you’re standing in front of a firing squad.”
I force a smile, as if the gesture might hide my thoughts entirely. “I’m just hungry.”
He gives a huffed breath of amusement. “That’s a first.”
The other man chuckles to himself, but I ignore it, focusing on my glass of wine instead.
It’s a task, but I urge myself to drop my shoulders a bit and to look a little more natural in my seat. Still, tension keeps me coiled tight on the inside, not knowing what to think of this outing.
Ever since Dad died, my brothers have been different. They’ve always been distant, but after the fact, they didn’t leave the house for months, and they definitely didn’t let me go either. We’ve been on some kind of lockdown, and they claimed it was to keep any kind of press from finding us.
Dad had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and was mugged by some thugs on his way home. They said the public would want to know how an important man such as him could be taken down like that, and it has caused an uproar with the public.
They’ve been insisting that lying low was the better way, and they’re just protecting me by doing so.
Yet, we’re here, out in the open. It hasn’t gone over my head that Cesare is currently wearing sunglasses inside, along with a hat he would otherwise never be caught dead in, and I don’t know what to think about any of this.
Something in me doesn’t want to complain, though. This is the first time in months we’ve gone out, and the first time I haven’t had to sneak out to do it.
When the waiter comes over to refill our glasses, my brother orders for me without asking, and even if I want to protest, I let him. It’s easier than fighting over something so small, so I’ve learned.
Once we’re alone again, I glance over at him. “Why are we here?”
“What do you mean?”
“This,” I murmur, gesturing around us. “We haven’t left the house for anything in how long, and now we’re here dining out like nothing is wrong. And where’s Carlo?”
The man grins knowingly, but Cesare shoots him a look, and he keeps his mouth shut.
“We’re just meeting someone. Carlo is next door, and he wanted us to wait here,” he says simply.
“Meeting with who?”
“A potential ally.”
My brows pinch lightly at that. “Ally?”
As if realizing what he said, Cesare clears his throat and tries to press a pleasant expression. “A business partner.”
“Okay, ‘business partner’…” I murmur, not entirely believing it. “You don’t usually bring me to business meetings.”
“No, we don’t.”
His vague responses force something to tighten in my chest, and as nerve-racking as it is, it feels more like a spark of hope.
“Then why bring me now?”
Cesare studies me for a long moment, then he sighs. “Because things are complicated…and because you’re family. If the deal goes well, then you are needed here.”
Family. The word hits me harder than it should.
After Dad died, I expected things to change between us. I thought we’d soften somehow, or at least talk and grieve together. My brothers have always been a distant feature in my life, and for the sake of being family, I wanted us to mend that gap. But it hasn’t happened.
I should be cautious, given how they have had ample opportunities to get closer to me, but somehow, this little thing feels like an olive branch, and I don’t want to let it pass me by.
Nodding lightly, I lean back in my seat. “What kind of business partner?”
“One who can help with our Lukov problem,” Cesare murmurs over his glass.
The name doesn’t mean anything to me, and I frown. “Lukov?”
“They’re Russian,” he says. “They have enough power to be incredibly annoying for our plans.”
Of course, that’s all I get.
Once the food is brought out to us, I settle in, trying not to show just how curious I really am. They never include me in any of this, and I hardly know anything about what my brothers actually do. I’m usually just an afterthought left in the dark, and not an actual player in the game.
The fact that I’m even here is very intentional, even if Cesare hasn’t divulged all the details to me yet.
“So,” I eventually say as carefully as I can, uselessly nudging at my pasta with my fork. “How does this ally benefit?”
After taking a generous drink from his glass, Cesare grins. “That’s where you come in.”
I pause at that, feeling as if that spark of hope hangs in the air between us, unsure of where this is going.
On one hand, it could be nice to be included and given the insider knowledge of what my family gets up to.
But on the other hand, I can’t shake the subtle dread that makes my stomach sink.
If they’ve never brought me into the loop before, then why would they now?
“What do you mean?”
Cesare leans back, draping his arm over the back of the chair like this is some casual conversation. “There’s a deal on the table, and Carlo’s working out the details as we speak. If everything goes well, then we need you nearby.”
Having myself brought into the equation makes my blood run cold, and I don’t like whatever he could be implying.
“Who is it?” I ask, willing myself to ask even if I’m afraid to hear the answer.
He takes a breath, as if fully aware of the weight behind his words. “Someone called Maksim Balakin.”
The name doesn’t register, but it doesn’t have to. The way Cesare says it is enough to make my skin crawl.
He glances between the man and me, as if considering just how far he wants to take this conversation. But knowing him, he can’t help himself when he’s sitting on vital information, especially without Carlo here to stop him.
“If everything goes according to plan, then you could be engaged to him,” Cesare continues, his tone almost coaxing now, like he wants it to seem appealing somehow. “It would secure the alliance and strengthen our position. Plus, we could protect you better this way.”
Protect me.
Even if those words are supposed to be a comfort for me, they feel anything but right now, and the crushing weight of what all of that would mean hits me at once.
“I don’t want that,” I say immediately, heart pounding in my chest at the thought of being married to a man I don’t know. And one he’s talking about like a cure to every problem they’ve ever had.
As if I’m disappointing him, Cesare sighs. “Mila…”
“No,” I mumble, unable to ignore the rush of heat flooding my chest, or the panic accompanying it. “You can’t just decide that. I don’t know him. I don’t even know why—”
“You don’t need to. You’ll learn eventually.”
Before I can let the overwhelming emotions get the best of me, I curl my hands into fists beneath the table. “I’m not some kind of bargaining chip.”
His eyes hardened as I had obviously said the wrong thing. “You’re a Grimaldi. Whether you understand or not, that means something.”
The overwhelming emotions clamp around my throat, making me struggle to get any words out. “That doesn’t give you the right.”
“It gives us every right,” Cesare retorts, losing all trace of that previous softness. “Dad is dead, and Carlo and I are trying to hold everything together. You are not going to make this harder.”
A few of the men around us murmur their agreement, as if my compliance should be an obvious thing. Immediately, it’s more like me versus everyone else, and it makes me feel small. Exposed, even.
I have known dread ever since I understood what it meant to walk on eggshells.
I did it often whenever Dad was in a mood, or if Carlo felt like something wasn’t going his way.
For the most part, Cesare left me alone, only ever irritated with me if Carlo was.
Either way, we never had the close bond I always wanted, which made it often difficult to feel at home.
Something in me wants to shut down, but I pull in a shallow breath and try to steady myself.
“You didn’t even ask me…you’re throwing this on me.”
Cesare leans closer, and his tone leaves no room for discussion. “Because this isn’t a request.”
I want nothing more than to cry, but I can’t let myself. Not in front of him, and not with the others around. Still, the sting in my eyes persists. “I won’t do it.”
“But you will, because if Carlo can finalize this deal, it’s happening,” Cesare murmurs, crystal-clear in his intentions.
My heart pounds so loudly in my chest, I have half the mind to assume everyone can hear it. At once, the restaurant feels like it’s closing in on me, and the air is thinning to an almost painful degree.
I want out. I need air, space…something.
With a shaky inhale, I push up from my seat and clear my throat. “I need to use the restroom.”
Cesare watches me, looking almost annoyed by the interruption, then he sighs and nods once. “Don’t take too long. We’re not done here.”
My legs feel more like rubber as I leave the table, weaving my way through the dining area. I keep my pace steady and my expression neutral, not wanting to give myself away.
Unable to risk it, I don’t look back at Cesare.
When the restroom door clicks shut behind me and I lock myself into a stall, I press my palms to my eyes and try my best not to break down entirely.
Engaged. They want me engaged.
Try as I might, the steady breaths I need don’t come. My lungs feel tighter than ever, and my heart almost seems to double in size.
This can’t be happening…it just can’t be .
In an attempt to calm myself down, I think of the stage. Of the way it feels to sing, like nothing can ever feel more freeing than that.
Performing is the only thing that has truly made me come to life, and I can’t give that up. I can’t give up on myself either.
Even if my brothers see me as nothing more than a thing to be sold off for the sake of an alliance. Even if that is my only value to them.
The decision hits me all at once, almost like getting struck by an undeniable clarity despite the turbulence moving through me. It’s overwhelming and terrifying, but I know I don’t have any other choice.
There’s no way in hell I’m going back to that table.
Waiting a few minutes, I listen as well as I can through the concrete separating me from them. I only hear the dull murmur of conversations and the bustle inside the kitchen. At the very least, I don’t catch any shouting or footsteps coming for me yet.
Unlocking the stall, I take slow, hesitant steps towards the door, opening it carefully. Rather than going left back to the dining room, I turn right.
The hallway just up ahead leads to a service exit, and luckily, there aren’t any staff or delivery people to block the way.
Out of sight, I quicken my movements, shoving through the door and into the light again. The Vegas air nearly chokes me, but I ignore it and push forward, breaking into a sprint through the alleyway.
I can hear the distant foot traffic and a few conversations, but I don’t stop long enough to truly listen.
Forcing myself to move, regardless of how hard my heart beats in absolute fear, I focus on the rhythm of my shoes hitting the pavement as I cut onto the street, ducking between pedestrians and ignoring their startled shouts behind me.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I just know I need to get as far away as I possibly can.
“Hey, wait!” A man shouts, sounding all too familiar. “Stop her!”
A sharp sting of panic stitches into my side at the realization.
They know I left. They’re after me, and now, everything depends on this.
Sprinting harder, my lungs burn, and I swear my heart is seconds away from giving out, but with several pairs of boots trailing me with nothing short of heavy purpose, I don’t allow myself to stop for even a moment.
Eager to throw them off my trail, I weave through traffic, barely avoiding the front end of a taxi and earning myself a swift blast of its horn. Someone nearby curses, but I don’t dare look back.
Mind racing even faster than my legs do, I take a sharp turn into another alleyway, well aware that I have to use the city around me to my advantage.
The men my brothers surround themselves with don’t care about subtlety, and they certainly have no qualms about making a scene in broad daylight. Though Cesare will hold back like he always does. That’s what the others are for, of course.
At the very least, I have that going for me.
My legs scream at me, and my vision blurs as I push. I’m not fast enough, and they’ll probably catch up to me before I can make an honest escape, but it doesn’t matter.
I have to try for myself, and for the woman I could be, if they’d let me.
Stopping means surrendering to my brothers’ whims, and now, I don’t think I can survive that.