Page 34 of Mila: The Godfather

I made my peace with that.

I am confident in who I am, but I am not loud. I am not them.

“I promised someone I would protect you if one day a war broke out in Detroit because of your sister.”

Suddenly, everything fades into the background. The aircraft. The man waiting not so patiently a few feet away.

The noise.

All I can see.

All I can feel is… the man in front of me.

I swallow hard and look up, my eyes clashing with hypnotizing blues for the rarest of seconds. “Who? Who asked you to keep that promise?”

“Arianna.”

Arianna…

“Have you seen her?” I feel a bit jealous because this stranger has more contact than I do with my sister.

“Briefly,” he confirms.

Then I remember he said he needed me.

Focusing on his chest tattoo, I ask. “Just a promise? Is that all? Do you need me to come with you to help you fulfill a promise?” When I look up at him, I manage to catch a look that crosses over his face, but it’s gone as soon as it happens. I’m unable to decipher it. Even when my mind tries its hardest to make sense of it. I failed.

“I’ll explain everything in more detail as soon as I get you to safety.” His tone becomes softer, gentler, a total contrast to his harsh exterior. “You can come with me, and I’ll keep you safe until we find this fu—” My brows furrow when he stops mid-sentence.

“You can use profanities. Most people use them when they have nothing useful or nice to say. I figured you don’t know who the man behind this is, so yes, you can call him a fuck.”

He laughs, and what a lovely sound that is.

“So, will you help me get you to safety, sweetheart?”

“Will I get to call my sisters?”

“Yes.” He nods.

I narrow my eyes on his chest. “Promise?”

“I promise, and I don’t break promises.”

“Cross your heart?”

“Cross my heart, Mila.” I noticed his tone changed from humorous to serious.

“I have a knife,” I lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. “If you try anything, I’ll stab you in the jugular.” I try to not sound anxious but instead more confident.

He laughs as if I am joking, and I watch as he lights up a cigarette. “Noted.” He takes a long drag. “And you shouldn’t tell people you have a weapon. If my purpose was to harm you, now I’m anticipating you fighting back with a knife, and my first move is going to be to get it away from you. You want to surprise me with it, not fucking announce it.”

Sighing, I stare at the small heart tattoo below his left ear. “Thank you for the tip,” I say, still eyeing him. “I want proof that Gus is well and alive.”

He grunts, “Is taking you to him proof enough?”

I think about it for a second, “Yes.”

“Then come with me.” He offers me his tattooed hand, and I look down at it in wonder.

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