Page 19 of Mila: The Godfather

She’s been at war since the moment she took her first breath and it brings me joy to see she finally has found peace.

It saddens me that I am not there to experience it all with her. She should have her sisters.

How I wish I could be there for her, not just through an email. Maybe if I tell Kadra she will let me attend. I think to myself, but then the hope I feel crumbles knowing that won’t happen. There’s not even a slim chance that my overprotective sister, who not only has taken full responsibility for me but is now the head of the Parisi crime organization now that our father vanished, would agree to that. Not with how things are lately.

Gabriele, our sperm donor, perished in the chaos he created. My sister’s words.

Sighing heavily, I close the computer just in time for a knock to sound on my bedroom door.

The person on the other side knocks three times, which I appreciate.

That’s our signal.

That’s how I know it’s her.

My protector.

My sister.

“Come in.” I turn on my desk chair, facing the door, and watch as my sister, Kadra, enters the room. If you didn’t know my sister, you would think she was the mistress of death who came knocking on your door to take your soul dressed in all black. A black pantsuit that should make her look businesslike and not sexy at all, but somehow my sister pulls it off.

Black heels.

Black gloves.

Those gloves…Every time I see them, it reminds me of the scars that still bleed in my sister’s heart.

“You look very beautiful today, stelina.” Kadra walks toward where I’m seated. My sister never smiles. Not ever. Not anymore.

My chest pangs.

I had a hard time when I was younger deciphering others’ emotions and their sincerity toward me. I learned most people mock me because they don’t understand me or don’t care to understand someone that doesn’t think the same way they do, but my sisters’ minds and hearts were always easy to understand because they showed me with actions what they felt for me instead of using words.

Most words mean nothing but actions. Acts of kindness and love? They mean everything.

At least for someone like me, they do.

Touching the brim of my favorite and only baseball cap, I whisper. “So do you, Sirius.” I shouldn’t have called her the term of endearment our older sister gave her when we were little, but sometimes I find myself wishing that the reminder will make her feel something. Nostalgia.

Happiness.

Even hurt.

I feel guilty knowing, at times, I wish I could hurt her. Hurt her until she gives me something.

Anything but that unfeeling attitude.

But nothing happens.

It doesn’t move her.

Nothing does anymore.

Reaching forward, I touch a strand of her dark brown, almost black hair. Since I was a little girl, I used to do it. I like feeling how silky it is.

“I am attending a meeting on neutral grounds with Lorenzo and a few other bosses. You’ll stay here.” Kadra whispers, her voice empty.

I bow my head, not because she’s leaving but because… well, I don’t even know anymore. I’ve gotten so used to solitude that it’s become a second home to me. “Mila.” I feel the cold material of her gloves tilting my chin up, making me look at her. My sister is truly beautiful. While Arianna and I have blonde hair and golden skin, Kadra has long-to-her-waist dark hair, and eyes the same shade as her skin, like honey. We look nothing alike, if not for the dimple in her chin, the same one I have. That is the only trait we share and inherited from our father, Gabriele. “Nothing will touch you. No one will get to you. You needn’t worry.”

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