Page 55 of Sins of the Father
When she finally pulled back, breathless, a smile curved her mouth at the sound of Bianca’s exaggerated wolf whistle. Heat flushed her cheeks as she turned, laughing, and grabbed her friend’s arm.
“Come on,” Mia said, still smiling as she led Bianca away, her heart lighter than it had been in months.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bianca had been with Mia for a week before her birthday arrived, and the days had unfolded like something out of a dream. They spent long mornings walking along the beach, their bare feet sinking into sun-warmed sand as gulls cried overhead. In the afternoons, they lounged beneath a striped umbrella, sipping piña coladas laced with Jamaican rum.
Mia was hopeless at drinking—her tolerance laughably low—and more than once Luc had come to find her flushed and giggling. He’d scoop her into his arms, and she would wrap her legs around his hips, pressing teasing kisses along his jaw until he carried her upstairs. She never remembered falling asleep, only waking tangled in his arms, her skin still tingling from his touch.
Sometimes, she caught Bianca watching them with an expression that flickered between envy and something softer—hunger, maybe, for the kind of connection Mia wasn’t sure she even understood.
The day before the birthday celebration, they’d gone on a shopping spree through the boutiques in East Hampton. Six bodyguards shadowed their every move, a constant reminder ofthe world Mia now lived in. She had grown used to their quiet vigilance, the way they melted into the background but were always there. Oddly, it made her feel warm and safe—because it meant Luc was watching over her, even when he wasn’t beside her.
Now, Mia reclined on a lounge chair by the pool, a tall glass of lemonade sweating beside her. Her swimsuit was a soft cream silk one-piece that shimmered like liquid light in the sun. The deep V neckline left her skin kissed by warmth, and the sea breeze lifted tendrils of her dark hair, carrying the faint scent of salt and coconut oil.
“He adores you,” Bianca said softly from the chair beside her, swirling her drink with the straw. “And indulges your every whim.”
Mia choked on the lemonade, coughing as she pushed her dark glasses up onto her head. “Why do you say that?”
Bianca laughed lightly. “Do you not see the way that man looks at you? As if he wants to devour you whole.”
“That’s lust, not love,” Mia said quietly, though her heart tightened at the words.
Bianca’s gaze softened. “You want him to love you.”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re already falling.”
Mia’s throat constricted. She stared out at the endless blue of the sea, her voice barely a whisper. “So deep, Bee, that it frightens me. I don’t know what love would even mean to a man like Luc.”
“That man feels more than lust for you,” Bianca said gently. “Yesterday you mentioned wanting to send money to the convent, and he wrote a check for five million without blinking. You said you wanted to visit the children, and he told you he’d have it arranged. I think whatever you ask of him, he’d find a way to give you.”
Mia smiled faintly. “Then we’ll see if he allows us to go clubbing for your birthday.”
“Why do you look like that?” Bianca asked, studying her.
Mia sighed and looked down at the rippling water. “I hate that I have to ask permission to go anywhere. It makes me feel as if I have no autonomy. But I also know he needs to plan ahead—to protect me. I understand that. Still, I can’t shake this disbelief that this is my life now. I can’t walk down a street or visit a gallery without guards at my side. Someone wants me dead, Bee.”
Her voice faltered, then softened. “I want children one day. But how do I raise them in this world? Their father can kill more easily than smile. And he expects his son—or daughter—to inherit that empire of blood. How do I tell him I could never bear to raise a child into that?”
Bianca sighed and reached over, squeezing her hand. “Then let’s not linger on that, not today. It’s my birthday week, and tonight we’re going to dance. Try on those dresses we picked out and practice the sweet smile you’ll use to convince your husband to let us go.”
Mia laughed softly despite the heaviness in her chest, the sound blending with the sea breeze and the distant hum of waves.
The morningof Bianca’s birthday dawned with an unfamiliar lightness. Mia stood by the window, watching the sun spill gold across the city skyline. Birthdays at the convent had been quiet, simple things—homemade cakes, candlelight, whispered laughter that faded beneath stone arches. She wouldn’t let this one pass without joy.
She found Luc in his study, his brow furrowed over a spreadsheet, sleeves rolled up, the morning light cutting across his face in sharp planes of shadow and gold.
“Luc,” she said.
He didn’t look up immediately. A beat passed—then two. When his gaze lifted, that piercing focus landed on her, the one that always made her pulse falter.
“I’ve arranged everything for your clubbing adventure with Bianca,” he said.
Mia blinked. “Just like that?”
His lips quirked. “Did you think I’d say no?”
