Page 32 of Mila: The Godfather

The silly bugs on my stomach go wild the second the words leave this man’s mouth, and suddenly I don’t know how to act or what to say, which is new to me. Although I may not understand social norms, sarcasm at times, and most human reactions, I do know that this strange man with butterfly tattoos, a perfect face, and a rough tone of voice is also a breath of fresh air to me.

Don’t be foolish, Mila… Lucifer was a gorgeous angel once too. Besides, you don’t know this stranger.

Ignoring the very smart and logical voice inside my head, I ask the man instead, changing the subject and steering the attention that is making heat creep up my neck away from me and towards him. “What is your name?” I ask automatically.

I look at the stubble on his face and find myself fascinated when the muscle of his face pulls up in another smile. The bugs in my stomach are taking over my chest as well. How…new. “I thought you knew me, sweetheart.”

My brows pull down. “I know your face. Not your name. If I knew your name, I wouldn’t be asking.” I tell him, as a matter of fact.

“I see there’s sass under all that sweetness.” He steps closer cautiously as if he’s approaching a wild animal and doesn’t want to spook it. “Rian. My name is Rian.”

Rian. What an odd name.

Rian can be spelled as Ryan and Rian. Most people spell it as Ryan, but I guess this man is not most people. He doesn’t look ordinary, and neither is his name.

I like it.

“It’s Rian short for something?” I notice that his smiling eyes lock onto mine for a brief second before my eyes fall to his lips. And what a pretty mouth he has. “Riagan.”

Riagan.

“That is an interesting and unusual name,” I mumble, still looking at the man’s lips. He has a pretty smile with straight white teeth.

Riagan laughs softly. “I guess most people would think I’m an unusual man.”

I bet.

If he goes around killing men in broad daylight, being called unusual should be the least of his worries. “What is your last name?”

“O’Sullivan.” I think about it for a second. I heard this name before from my sister. It’s Irish.

His surname is of Irish descent.

Then it comes to me.

Lucan Volpe has a brother. A brother named Rian O’Sullivan.

The big and scary man from that night so long ago is Lucan’s brother.

Does Kadra know him?

Did she send him to come get me?

Is this the man Gus was referring to?

So many questions.

“My name is Mila.” I supplied. “Mila Areya Parisi.”

“I know.” He says with a small smile on his face. I focus on his smile instead of his eyes. He has a pretty smile. Most men and women I know have cruel smiles. Ones that make me nervous because punishment or a hurtful comment always comes next.

“You know my family? Is that how you know me? Did my sister contact you to take me back home? Where is Gus?” I blabber away, asking question after question. Now noticing the aircraft is visibly heading our way. “Why are we here?”

Bending down, I reach inside my socks for my phone – where I always put it– but find it empty. I left it in the car, but knowing my sister, she had a tracker planted on it. Do not panic… all will be well. If you panic, then you’re already dead. My big sister’s, Kadra, words replay through my mind reminding me of all she has taught me if ever I find myself in a situation where my life is in danger, and she’s not there to help.

As the plane stops a few feet away from us, the man comes closer to me. From this close, our height difference can’t be missed. The man towers over me, all strength and over-the-top presence. My heartbeat quickens, and my breaths become labored. I’ve never been this close to a man that hasn’t in some way hurt me, but somehow this stranger doesn’t make me feel scared or uncomfortable. Very fascinating…again.

“I do know your family. Not very fond of them, if I am being truthful, and something you should know about me, sweetheart, is that I am not afraid of the truth, and I won’t lie to you.” I am offended on my family’s behalf. My sisters to be precise, but I don’t argue, knowing that my family is not well-liked.

---