Page 93 of Mila: The Godfather

Sweet was not an adjective I would have thought to describe men who look like the grim reaper if he were part of this century with tattoos and silver chains around his neck, but that’s the first word that comes to mind when I think of not only Riagan but now Cianne, too.

“For a man with an odd sense of fashion and a love for animal print, he managed to find something more my style instead of his,” I whisper to no one as I shut the backdoor softly behind me, stepping into the warm night.

He’s waiting for you… Cianne said.

Looking down at what I’m wearing, I feel happiness. Cianne picked a bright blue ditsy floral print cami-dress that ties at the front. He even picked the matching blue sandals I paired the dress with.

If it wasn’t obvious before, it is now. I love blue. I’m always wearing something blue, and both men have noticed. Bad men who wish to cause me harm wouldn’t take notice of the little things, would they?

I don’t think so, but I’m not an expert on men. At this rate, though, I will be once my time with them is over. I try not to think about what waits for me after this dream ends and hold on to the present. I grew up wishing the days away, and what a twist this is. I find myself trying to freeze time.

Freeze this moment.

Walking down the stone path, suddenly, I become nervous about what awaits me once I reach Riagan. Cianne said he would meet me between the garden and the glass house where the butterflies are. Gazing up at the sky, I take notice of the sun turning a dark shade of orange. It will be nighttime soon. I take in my surroundings as soon as I enter the garden. It looks extra magical today with the blinking white lights adorning the bushes and the tall palm trees. The garden looked stunning before, but nothing like it does today.

Was this what he was doing all day?

Was this the business Cianne was referring to?

I keep looking left and right with a big goofy smile on my face while my heart beats faster.

I remember watching a princess movie with Gus two years ago, where there was a fairy forest with all kinds of beautiful plants and cute little mythical creatures.

This place looks and feels just like a movie.

Magical.

Private.

Almost as if I were in a bubble.

My smile widens when I spot the small gnome wearing a cute purple hat standing next to the water fountain. Even the garden has fairy lights. “Wow…” I breathe out, taking it all in.

“There’s never been a more beautiful sight.” A voice whispers in awe, making my heart beat faster than it was moments before. Turning to where the sound came from, I spot Riagan standing tall and looking almost regal in a wild way under the lit gazebo. The pressure in my chest intensifies as I look his way. I’ve always thought of Riagan as handsome, but at this moment, while he stands in a white dress shirt with the two top buttons undone showing his neck and chest tattoos and wearing dark jeans, I can’t help but think that men like him should be illegal. He is not good for my health.

Every time I look at him my heart races abnormally, and that can’t be good.

“The setting you chose is magnificent, yes,” I say matter of fact. I swallow hard as he keeps staring at me, making heat spread to my body, starting on my cheeks.

“I was talking about you, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk.

I blush.

Of course, I do when he says things that make my stomach flip. “Cianne helped me pick this outfit,” I murmur while playing with the hem of the dress absently. I do that when I’m nervous, and at this moment, I am very nervous.

“Remind me to thank him later.” Riagan’s top lip curls in a smile.

“Why?” I ask curiously, while walking up the gazebos’ steps.

“Because you look beautiful in that dress.” He says while offering me his hand. The moment my skin makes contact with his, I feel a thousand bugs in my belly. Again.

“Oh...” Oh? Is that all you’re going to say? Think Mila. Think of a more appropriate response to his compliment on your appearance. “Thank you,” I whisper, and then quickly add. “You look beautiful too.”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever called me beautiful before.” He laughs, and I frown, wondering how it is possible that no one has ever called him beautiful before. “I’m glad you think I’m beautiful, butterfly.”

Butterfly.

Ironic that he chose that term of endearment for me. Is he aware of the thousand butterflies currently flapping their wings inside my stomach?

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