Mila: The Godfather (Unholy Trinity Book 7)
Mila: The Godfather: Part 2 – Chapter 48

RIAGAN

“You’re in my veins.” – M

If someone would have told me years ago that I would be marrying a girl much younger than me. The same girl I came across as a strike of luck years ago. A girl whose family is one of the three who had a hand in my mother’s demise. I would’ve laughed my fucking ass off because no way would I have believed that shit. Marriage, love, and babies were not in the cards for a man like me.

I never once saw myself settling down with just one woman, let alone putting my ring on her finger.

But here I am, standing in my backyard garden with my father and Kelly, waiting not so patiently for my bride to appear before me, so I can make it official. I can finally make her mine in the name of God and my law.

My clan’s law.

She’ll not only be mine in the sense of the word but by law.

With my name and my ring, she’ll not only be protected by my city but respected by my men and my enemies as well.

That, I’ll make sure.

Looking at my watch, I count the minutes she’s been away from me. Seventy minutes, to be exact.

I entrusted Maeve with helping Mila get ready for this moment, but now that the minutes keep ticking by I wonder if I shouldn’t have left her alone. Perhaps she got nervous? Or anxious? Shit she doesn’t know Maeve.

What if she—

“I’m proud of you, a sheòid” I feel my father’s still strong hand clasp my shoulder. Turning my face away from the double doors, where my bride should be walking through any second now, I look at my father.

He stands in the center dressed as usual. A long black sleeve button down with two buttons undone, revealing butterfly tattoos almost identical to mine. His are black ink butterflies, while mine were filled in with blue ink.

I’m glad to see him looking better than he did a week ago, but still he lost some weight. His doctors told him the chemotherapy would be hell on him. For the most part, he’s been good at hiding how rough it has been on him, but he can’t hide the changes to his appearance. He had to shave his hair, and the dark circles under his eyes are a clear sign that he’s not been getting enough sleep.

Still, he’s a fighter.

He doesn’t complain and wakes up every morning, ready to fight that fucker cancer with all he has.

Cancer was a word that was never part of my vocabulary. Yes, I know it happens to many people, but it never crossed my mind that it would hit so close to home.

Touching my father’s hand, I give him a reassuring squeeze. He needs me to be okay, just as much as I need him to be here with me for as long as life allows him to. “I’m proud of you, too, Da.”

“I hear she’s a beauty.” Da murmurs, looking ahead, then back at me.

Fucking Kelly.

“Kelly has a big mouth.” I mumble while the image of his beady little eyes staring at Mila’s naked chest still burns in my memory.

“And a great appreciation for a woman’s beauty.” Da laughs, and it’s like music to my ears. Although, it seems like things are finally falling into place now that Mila is where she should’ve been all along. Another part feels as if it’ll all crumble at my feet if my father is taken from me. “He’s a good man and an even better soldier. He’s loyal as fuck, too, boy.”

I know.

I wouldn’t have chosen him as my right hand if I didn’t trust him.

I trust him with my goddamn heart. I proved that in Turks and Caicos.

He still has a penchant for pissing me the fuck off and testing my patience.

But it seems like all my men do.

“That’s the only reason he’s still breathing.” I joke with my father while we wait for her. My father will serve as the officiant and both Maeve and Kelly will be witnesses.

“I don’t know for how long this will la—” I don’t let him finish his thought before I answer.

“Till my last breath.”

My father’s face turns soft. “Does she feel the same?”

I think back to how her pretty face lights up every time I came near her, even when she didn’t really know me. When she was afraid and anxious. When she was just a girl alone in the dark on that Halloween night. Her eyes lit up the damn night like, to this day, she lights up my entire fucking world. Her beautiful smiling face flashes through my mind, and so does every memory of her I have engraved in my brain, and I have my answer. My girl was kept from the world for so long, she grew up a bit naive and sheltered, yet she is so brave and kind. Nothing has hardened that sweet heart of hers, and I know, without a doubt, that nothing ever will.

She’s that good.

That fucking magical.

“She does.” And she does. I see it in her eyes. In the way she looks at me when she doesn’t think I’m looking. In the way she feels safe enough with me to not hide under her baseball cap. Safe enough to share her wishes and fun facts about the things she’s passionate about.

Perhaps, she doesn’t feel it as deeply as I do, but I know I’m in there.

In her heart, and I don’t plan on ever leaving.

Because she’s not only inked in my skin, but she’s my entire heart.

My weakness.

My strength.

My Mila.

The double doors that connect the mansion to the garden open, and Maeve strides in dressed in all black with her pink hair, a total contrast to the pale tone of her skin. She walks towards where both Da and I are, standing under the gazebo with a grin on her face.

Maeve might be my golden little genius, but to two other men she’s their ruin and salvation.

Feeling my father grip my chin tenderly, like he used to when I was a young lad, I look into his eyes, identical to mine. I’m not only blood of his blood.

But my father believes I was made in his image.

I believe so too.

I see traces of my mum, but it’s mostly him.

“And why her?” Da asks.

I smile at that.

“Because there’s never been and there’ll never be anyone else for me.” I confess proudly as I wait for her. Kelly stands to my right, and across from him now stands Maeve, who looks nervous as if she were the bride.

And like a magic trick or a fucking miracle, the double doors to the garden open once again, and Mila enters by herself. Fuck, she deserves better. She deserves someone to walk her down the aisle to me. A wedding that would be the envy of every woman in this city. She deserves so much more than this. Still, I don’t regret every decision I’ve made since retrieving her from Detroit.

Because that road led me here. To this moment in time where she is seconds away from becoming legally mine. She is wearing the dress I picked for her. An elegant yet casual, long satin dress. Her wild curls fall down her back held back, by a tiara that matches both her dress and her eyes perfectly. I can’t seem to look away. I don’t want to look away.

Fuck.

The tiara has tiny butterflies on it, reminding me of the very first time I laid eyes on her. When she was dressed as a butterfly. A blue butterfly.

But this time is different. She’s a young woman, and she’s never looked more like mine.

Mila smiles slightly as she walks toward me, but her nerves aren’t hard to miss. When she arrives in front of me, I notice she’s carrying a bridal bouquet with my favorite flower. My mother’s favorite. Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I catch the hint of desire and happiness, both surprising and grounding me.

I take her much-smaller hand in mine and smile, reassuring her while Da begins the short ceremony. As he goes over the usual ceremony script, I tune everything out and focus solely on her.

“Hi,” I whisper, getting her attention away from my Da and to me. It’s obvious she’s nervous. Nervous and out of her element. Still, she smiles at me while her hand trembles in mine. Holding it firmly, I smile back, offering her comfort. Telling her with my smile that all is fine and that, from now on it will always be. I’ll always make sure she’s good.

That she’ll never go without.

“Hi,” she whispers back.

“Everything will be alright.” I assure her, still staring at her eyes while her gaze falls to my lips. “You’ll always be safe with me. Always.”

Her gaze lifts to mine once again.

“Always? That’s a long time. That’s for—”

“It’s not long enough, butterfly. No amount of time with you will ever be enough.” I cut her off, smiling wide when her nostrils flare and she licks her lips.

The heart in my chest seems to slow down, just like the world around us, as I wait for her to speak again and tell me what’s in her head.

And when she does, I know.

I know she’s here with me.

On the same page of our book.

Our story.

“Okay…” she breathes out and squeezes my hand three times.

Three times like her favorite number.

Like the number of days, it took me to realize that Mila Areya Parisi was more than just a girl I met one autumn night.

She’s everything.

Everything and more.

“Do you Riagan, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife. To have and to hold. In sickness and in health, as long as you’ll both be alive?”

“I do.” There’s no hesitation on my part.

My father repeats the question this time to Mila.

I hold my breath, waiting for her to answer. I don’t have to wait long because her “I do” comes soon after.

While we exchange the rings, Mila keeps throwing shy glances up at me. “I got you, Mila. Always. No matter what.” I slip the silver band onto her small finger, and watch as it connects to her engagement ring.

“You may kiss your bride, a sheòid,” my father said. Mila’s eyes widen a fraction, as if that part of the ceremony comes as a surprise. I wait for her. I want her to give me whatever she’s comfortable with, even if it means she shakes my fucking hand instead of sealing our union with a kiss. But then, as always she manages to surprise me when she goes up on her tippy toes, grabs the back of my head, urging me to bend low, and when I do, she firmly presses her mouth against mine.

Now, as her soft lips touch mine and her sweet scent hits me, a deeply buried desire kindles inside me. I pull back, causing Mila to open her eyes. She holds my gaze, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Then she gives me a small, shy smile. So goddamn innocent.

Kelly, of course, is the first to congratulate me. He claps my shoulder with a teasing smile. “And how was the first taste of your young wife?” he asks in a low voice.

Without looking away from Mila, I speak. “Kelly.”

Kelly claps my shoulder more forcefully this time. “Yes, darling?”

“Fuck off.” My eyes linger on hers for a few seconds longer than the last time she held my face and smiled. She’s trying. She, like me, can’t help not wanting to look at anyone or anywhere else. “You’re mine now, sweet Mila.” I touch my forehead with hers. “Mrs. O’Sullivan.” I whisper proudly against her lips before claiming them once again. This time I don’t kiss her sweet or gentle, no.

I kiss her like a man who’s been starving for years.

Starving for a taste of heaven.

A taste of her.

My wife.

Mila

We said I do, and then I was pulling him in for a kiss while his people clapped.

Short and simple, but somehow it felt like everything.

Effortless and natural.

Just like us.

I never thought this day would come. Simply because I didn’t believe a man such as Riagan existed, and although our situation started out as a mutually beneficial arrangement, it doesn’t feel like that anymore. To me it feels real.

Feels like forever.

His words play through my mind while I stand by his side and witness his employees—no, they’re clearly more than that. His family circle around us, congratulating both of us.

You’re mine now, sweet Mila.

Those are not the words of a man who thinks about this marriage as a momentary thing.

No.

Those are the words of a man who wishes to keep me forever.

I want that too.

There’s no denying it any longer.

I fell fast and hard.

For a man who isn’t the one I dreamed about for countless days and nights.

My mystery man who would bear his soul to me through letters.

He was a ghost.

And Riagan?

Riagan is real.

Real and true.

And now?

Mine.

I watch him talk among his people, thinking he was the breath of fresh air I didn’t know I was missing until it was there, winding its way through my oxygen-starved lungs.

The dream that always seemed impossible.

I did say once I had obsessions.

Healthy ones, but I still become obsessed easily, and I have.

I am tiredly obsessed with the man who makes my chest ache in a good way. The best way. The man who has given me everything in a matter of days.

My best days.

My husband.