Page 43 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
There’s no indication in her smile that she suspects anything beyond what her father told her. Mia’s other friend, however, is a different story entirely.
“So, is Mia the first woman you’ve forced into marriage, or have you been married before?” Olivia asks, her tone sharp enough to cut glass.
Physically, she’s flawless, with symmetrical features, sleek auburn hair, and ice-blue eyes that are currently glaring at me like I’m something she’d scrape off her shoe. I can see why she’s a successful model. Perfect bone structure, perfect proportions.
Perfectly boring.
She looks like she was carved by an artist with no imagination, some generic ideal of beauty that fails to deliver anything compelling. But she has balls, I’ll give her that. Either she’s too pissed to care that I’m dangerous, or she’s picking up on the warning signals and choosing to ignore them.
Most people sense the danger I represent. It radiates from me like heat from asphalt, nature’s way of giving prey a chance torun before the predator strikes. Olivia is either too foolish or too stubborn to heed the warning.
I suspect it’s the latter, and I respect her for standing her ground for Mia’s sake, even as my wife grabs her arm and shakes her head frantically. She doesn’t want anything to happen to her friend.
She doesn’t need to worry. I’m trying to win her over, and attacking her best friend won’t accomplish that.
“I have been married before,” I say calmly. Mia relaxes slightly when she realizes I’m not angry. “A long time ago. It was arranged.”
“Arranged?” Olivia’s nose wrinkles like she smells something rotten.
“It’s a cultural thing. Many people in my family have done it.”
“Does it still happen?” Mia asks, genuine curiosity in her voice.
“Sometimes.” Marriage secures alliances. That will never change. If Mia’s situation were different, I would have negotiated for her hand as part of a formal agreement. But that wasn’t possible when she doesn’t even know about her own connection to the Cartel.
“Oh, look,” Jill interrupts, pointing toward the cake table. “They’re still passing out cake. I might have missed dinner, but I’m getting a piece of that.”
Mia gives me a small smile before walking away with her friends. I watch her go, openly admiring the way that dress hugs every curve of her body. No other man in the yard looks at her for long—they wouldn’t dare ogle what’s mine.
“Your wife seems to be enjoying herself,” Santino says, appearing at my side with two glasses of scotch. He hands me one, and I take a sip while watching Mia throw her head back in laughter at something Olivia said.
“Yes. Everyone’s been welcoming.”
Santino was one of the first to introduce himself, though he didn’t linger. Mia will get to know him better in the coming weeks. He’s around almost as much as my sons.
“You’ve looked into these friends?” he asks.
Mia has settled at a table with Jill and Olivia, eating cake and talking animatedly. She looks completely at ease with them, and I’m glad she has her own people here. Even if there are only two of them, and one clearly wants to castrate me with a butter knife.
I can’t blame Olivia for her suspicion. I’m just grateful someone else has Mia’s back.
“They’re clean. Nothing to worry about. No indication they know any more about her past than she does.”
“Any idea how you’re going to tell her? She needs to know the truth about her parents.”
I sigh and take another sip. Finally look away from Mia to meet my oldest friend’s eyes. “I’m working on it.”
How the hell do I tell her that everything she believes about her own life is a lie?
I wasn’t surprised to learn she’s not close to the people she calls her parents. That feeling she has of being different, of not quite belonging—it comes from her hidden origins. The disconnectshe feels is real, because the connection was never there to begin with.
She has no idea that her parents aren’t her parents at all.
I finish my drink and look back at Mia. Her eyes find mine across the yard, and even from this distance, I can see the warmth in her gaze. I haven’t completely won her over yet, but I’m getting closer. I can feel it with every day that passes.
“You can’t keep your eyes off her,” Santino observes.
“I need to keep my eye on her. I have to make sure she stays happy. That’s been the plan from the beginning.”
