Page 36 of Mila: The Godfather

Seven days.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours.

How the fuck am I going to make her fall for the

man that I am before she comes

face to face with the darkness of my world?

Zero Apologies

MILA

“Trust your gut, Mila, and when it fails you… fuck it. You only live once.” — R

I’ve read a thousand fictional romances, enough to know that things are not always what they seem. Plot twists. They’re everywhere in a good story, and Riagan O’Sullivan is one ginormous unexpected development. One I didn’t see coming.

Look, I know what you’re thinking. How could I possibly agree to go with a stranger who is currently still wearing the blood-stained shirt he had on when he killed another human being in cold blood barely an hour ago? You must think I’m crazy.

To tell you the truth, I guess I am.

My nonna used to remind my sisters and me to always trust our guts and our hearts. Mind you, I’m a logical person. One who doesn’t quite understand feelings and all that jazz, but I do trust my instincts, and my instincts are telling me that the man currently leaning back on his airplane seat like a king on his throne is a big part of my story.

I never believed myself interesting enough to have a story to tell.

That’s why I spent so much time with my nose stuck in a book or with my head in the clouds.

I also don’t understand this feeling in the pit of my stomach. What I do know is that it has never happened until this man.

I feel it now, and I felt it once before when I first met him all those nights ago.

I woke up this morning with the intent of surprising my sister Arianna. I had only good intentions, and then the day took a turn for the worse. I almost got whacked in the middle of a busy street in broad daylight, and no one, not one single person, stopped to help but the man sitting quietly next to me. The man, most people would take one good look at and decide he is a criminal and run in the opposite direction.

Is he a stranger? He is.

Do I know him at all? No, I do not.

Is he a criminal? By the way he looked so smug while he blew another man’s brains, I would guess that’s a big heck yes.

Am I afraid? Again… no.

Why am I not afraid? I wonder. It is unsettling because what makes him different than all the others?

Every other man who has fired a gun around me made me fear for my life, yet this time it doesn’t feel like those times. Riagan doesn’t feel like all the ones before.

Maybe it is his eyes.

His eyes remind me of my favorite color.

Light blue.

It also reminds me of a sunny day at the beach.

My absolute dream.

Arianna used to say that you could tell a lot about a person by their eyes.

The eyes never lie, even when our mouths do.

---