Page 84 of Mila: The Godfather

Right before me. I sometimes doubt this is real, and I’m terrified I’ll wake up to a world she’s not part of.

“So, you like butterflies…” Mila interrupts my thoughts as she comes closer. I didn’t notice her turn around completely, so she is now facing me. At the same time, the butterfly on her shoulder flies away, and the one that was on her head lands on the tip of her nose. I watch with a smile on my face as Mila tries her best to remain stoic, trying not to spook the butterfly, but after a few seconds, the bug takes flight. I chuckle softly when Mila waves at the butterfly and then playfully narrows her eyes at me, making me grin. And here you thought you had no sense of humor, sweetheart. You’re the funniest person I know. That’s saying a lot since I find most people tedious and corny. “Okay, then. Tell me something about them.”

My grin widens when I realize she’s being playful and trying to figure out if she believes me. Good.

As much as I enjoy her shy and sweet side, I am starting to become addicted to the way she is slowly coming out of her shell and getting comfortable with me enough to call me out on my bullshit if need be.

Mila’s eyes skitter to my eyes, then immediately look down to my neck, where I have a few butterflies inked.

“Did you know butterflies can see colors that we cannot?” I step closer to her until I’m able to smell her sweet and intoxicating vanilla scent. That close. Dangerously close. She doesn’t step away or give me any indication that she feels uncomfortable. Still, I try not to crowd her.

She nods, still staring at my neck. “I do, yet that is a common fact. What is this one called?” She points towards a butterfly with bright orange wings.

“Gulf fritillary.” I answer while staring at the medium-sized, bright orange with brown insect speckled with silvery white dots. “Also known as Passion Butterfly.”

From the corner of my eye, I watch her top lip twitch. “And that one?” I follow her pointed finger to where another butterfly is resting on top of a yellow flower.

“The Pierid.” I don’t hesitate.

“I must admit I don’t have much knowledge about that one.” She looks up at me expectantly. “What else do you know about it?” Her curiosity and thirst for knowledge are adorable-as-fuck.

If she wants to know more about the insect, I’ll oblige. “Do you see how she’s resting with her wings open?”

“Yes…” Mila leans closer to me, and I take the opportunity to reach forward and play with a strand of her hair. I find comfort in playing with her silky curls.

Twirling the curl around my index finger, I speak again. “The shutting of wings offers protection from predators as its appearance resembles that of a leaf.”

“That’s very clever.” The look in her eyes is of pride. This girl is proud of a damn insect.

Smiling down at her, I grunt in response.

“Riagan…”

“Yes, butterfly?”

A grin forms on my face when I notice her sharp intake of breath.

“I quickly become obsessed with things. It’s part of my condition.” She turns her face to the right and looks up at me. “I hope my asking questions doesn’t bother you. I tend to soak up all the knowledge I can when something really interests me. It’s something I’ve done since I was a child. Please tell me when you’ve had enough of my inquisitiveness.”

The way she says it feels as if, somehow, she’s apologizing for being herself, and it only pisses me off because I know her need to apologize comes from a place of fear of being judged.

Taking a deep breath, I try not to sound as angry as I feel right now. “Nothing you do bothers me, sweetheart. Let’s start there. So, you go ahead and ask all the questions you want. I like listening to your voice.” I tell her bluntly. I tend to speak freely, and I never play games. I say things how I see them. And when I want something I go for it. Whatever it takes, and what I want is the tiny fairy girl looking up at me with a soft look on her pretty face.

“You do?” she asks, genuinely curious and completely oblivious to the hold she has on me already, without even a single kiss. That’s how dangerous Mila Parisi is to my sanity.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I do.”

Then she blushes.

Her soft cheeks turn a light pink color hypnotizing me more than I already am. “Will you tell me more? About butterflies, I mean.” Her gentle eyes meet mine for only a second, before they fall to my lips. With the way she looks at me. So trusting and sweet. She could ask for my balls on a silver platter, and I would give them to her.

But for now, I will do as she asked.

I spend twenty or so minutes sharing all the shit I researched about butterflies, and she stands quietly beside me, listening with a tender smile on her face. That smile. The smile that turns my world on its axis.

“Mila.”

“Yes, Riagan?”

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