Page 46 of Mila: The Godfather

I follow her gaze to the mansion that was built by my grandfather in the middle of a private beach here on the island. The property was passed down from my grandmother to my Mum in hopes of one day being given to my future wife. My grandfather purchased it as a wedding gift for his wife, my grandmother because she loved the sea, and so did my Mum.

Truthfully, the clan has many properties. Not just here in Turks and Caicos but also around the Caribbean. Not only for privacy and vacation purposes, but also for businesses and to hide money.

“Yes,” I reply while typing the key code to the gates, and I wait for the buzz before it opens, allowing us access to the property.

“Do you own the beach, too?” she asks, still looking at all that surrounds her with childlike curiosity.

I step back, allowing her room to walk in front of me. “I do.”

“I can’t believe you have your own beach. I love the ocean so much!” she whispers in awe, moving further inside and walking up the cement path that leads to the house. “I am going to love everything about this place. I just know it. I feel it.” She takes a long pause and continues. “Victorian doctors used to prescribe their patients a visit to the seaside, rather than traditional medicine. The sea is so good to us.” She then turns and smiles at me. Fuck. I notice her expressions are limited, but she always has a smile on her face when she looks or talks about something she loves.

It’s a thing of beauty.

She is a thing of beauty.

I did an extended amount of research on Neurodiversity. The first time I ever saw this girl, I noticed quickly how she couldn’t hold my gaze and how quickly she changed topics. I figured there was more to her shyness and sheltered background. I dug a little and found she is on the spectrum, something that at first, I didn’t quite understand because of my poor knowledge of the matter. I didn’t think she was any different from me or her sisters until I gradually became fascinated with anything to do with Mila Parisi. Yes, her brain works differently than most, but she’s perfect to me just the way she is.

I fucking love how brilliant and honest she is.

It is refreshing nowadays when everyone hides who they are just to fit in or please society.

Not her, though.

That is not an Asperger’s thing but a Mila thing.

She’s rare, and I can’t seem to get enough of her.

“What is it?” I snap out of the witchcraft trance her smile puts me on and find her frowning at me. The sun is setting soon, and the sky is split into colors. An orange and pink hue that is now bouncing on her skin, making her appear even more unreal than normal. “Why do you have that look on your face? Did I say something out of line? Cause I need to warn you. Sometimes words escape me, and I don’t mean them to. If that ha–” I interrupt her adorable blabber. That’s new now, too. I find shit adorable.

Just her shit, though. Everyone else’s ignorance or annoying tendencies make me want to point my gun to their heads and shut them up permanently. “You did nothing wrong,” I say before clearing my throat. You are doing everything right. I want to say. Instead, I tell her. “I just like your smile.” How can a five-foot-one girl turn me into a sap without me even realizing it. Suddenly, the wind rushes and blows all those thick golden curls of hers in every direction, making her look ethereal. I take a second just to look at her. Her cheeks are rosy, and her mouth is slightly parted while her eyes are stuck looking at something in my chest. For a moment, I catch her looking at my face, but then her eyes fall back to my bearded cheek. I caught her off guard. For a girl who has many facts and so much interesting knowledge inside her head, one simple compliment makes her tongue-tied.

I like it. A whole lot.

The ones who know me. Really know me. Know that I am a man who finds pleasure in only three things. Fucking up the people who cross me, making money, and of course, a good old fashion fucking.

Now, I add her to the list of things I find pleasure in because I do find the little things she does fascinating. For example, catching her off guard gives me a thrill I only get when I’m fighting or when I spill the blood of my enemies. And that adorable deer in the headlight look she gets whenever I say something she doesn’t quite know what to do with? Fucking addictive.

Feeling triumphant, I nod towards the house and take the lead. “Come, I am sure you’re tired.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” She says to my retreating back, meaning the island. Good. Cause I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you. I think to myself as we make our way towards the front doors. I knew long before now that something about this girl called out to my dark soul, but seeing her in my space and my world sets it all in stone.

Here, surrounded by enchanting turquoise waters, beautiful flora, and the whitest sand on earth, it all fails to compare. For days on end, I imagined her roaming through my place, her aura only adding allure to this land. I wasn’t a man capable of softness because my upbringing didn’t allow much of that, and I quite honestly never cared to be soft or gentle.

Until her.

Riagan’s Secret Thoughts

One smile from her and I was gone.

Just Perfect

MILA

“The man is one giant, tattooed teddy bear with sharp claws.” – M

I like his words.

I like his smile.

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