Page 57 of Twins for the Mafia Heir

“Care to come Christmas shopping with me?”

Chapter 30

Emma

I’ve never had the chance to celebrate Christmas before. I’ve certainly never been shopping for presents on the streets of a city as gorgeous as Edinburgh, with the sun disappearing behind the buildings and a light snow falling around us. Achilles and I are back in the thick coats we took out of the Ashwood bunker, and knit scarves on loan from Piers. But honestly, Achilles’s arm tucked into mine could probably chase every chill away right now.

It feels wrong to be this enchanted by my life while I’m still a hostage bride and now in hiding from an unstable mafia queen, but those problems seem so far away right now.

“So, why Edinburgh?” I ask. My breath puffs out like a cloud, and I pull my scarf a little higher around my jaw.

“My grandfather has Scottish ancestors, and he’s maintained several connections here over the years,” Achilles explains. “He even considered retiring here once I took the mantle. Of course, once his daughter married into the Warwick family, he felt like he had to stay in London to maintain his hold on his legacy.” He shrugs. “And then I threw away all his hard work by giving the Ashwood businesses to Fantasia.”

I put my free hand on Achilles’s arm. “It was your legacy to do that with, and it felt right. You wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

Achilles looks down at me, looking almost confused. “Where is all this praise coming from?”

Despite the chill, my cheeks go hot. “I just…”

Achilles’s arm tightens on mine, just a little. “I did it because I felt too weak to lead the family,” he says, his eyes on his feet. “Madeleine had just died, and I- I couldn’t save her from the cancer. I couldn’t even get off my own floor.”

Madeleine. I realize he’s never actually spoken his wife’s name in my presence before. He’s only ever called her Sidony’s mother, and he’s never named what actually killed her. My heart aches at the raw loss in his voice- and that he’s finally shared this with me.

It feels almost blasphemous to think but… perhaps being betrayed by Fantasia has finally opened the locked boxes inside his heart. Without being tied to his unstable sister, he can focus at last on himself and his family, and reckoning with grief that has been haunting him for years.

“Sidony doesn’t think you’re weak,” I tell him. “She might be afraid of many things, but they’re not silly things like ghosts or dinosaurs or shadows in her closet. They’rerealthings that sheshouldbe cautious of. She also knows that you’re the one who’ll protect her from those things at the end of the day. You… you can’t fight illnesses, but you can fight men.”

Achilles stops, so suddenly I almost trip, but he steadies me just in time. “We’re here,” he says, looking up at a three story brownstone. It looks like three different shops stacked on top of each other- a children’s clothing boutique at the bottom, a salon, and a dessert shop at the top- and they all seem to be closed already, or closing. Achilles doesn’t hesitate to walk in the door,though. A little old shopkeeper is already hurrying forward to evict us, but one look at Achilles’s face stops her in her tracks.

“Oh, Mr. Ashwood!” she cries, in a Scottish accent thick enough to cut with a blade. “Ach, it’s been ages! Whit can I do for ye, sir?”

“You can let me have the shop for an hour, Mrs. Turner,” Achilles says with a smile. “I’m here for a very last minute present for my daughter. The one I already bought for her was, ah, delayed in the mail.”

“Aye, that it would be,” Mrs. Turner huffs. “I swear, I cannae git a single parcel oot the door this close to Christmas. But aye, come in, come in. I’ll lock ye in so ye won’t be bothered.” She does just that, then turns back to us. “An’ who’s this lovely young lass ye’ve brought wi’ ye?”

“My wife, Raleigh,” Achilles says, with only a beat’s hesitation.

“Ah, Sidony’s mam, are ye?” Mrs. Turner asks warmly. “Ach, it’s grand tae finally meet ye.”

“Oh, um…” Should I deny that I’m Sidony’s mother, or deny that I’m Achilles’s first wife? Both? I feel like I haven’t even had the chance to think of Sidony as my daughter because I was so charmed by being her friend. I didn’t give birth to her, no, but the love I feel for her is too bright to contain.

I… I think I’d like to be her mother, if she wanted me to be.

My clear discomfort and awkward silence has stretched on too long. Mrs. Turner covers her mouth, eyes widening. “Och, forgive me. I didnae mean tae pry- ”

“Quite all right, Mrs. Turner,” Achilles swoops in, his voice a little tighter than before. “If you don’t mind, we’ll browse for a bit.”

“O’ course, Mr. Ashwood. I’ll leave ye tae it, then.”

She seems relieved to hurry away, and I feel guilty that I’m relieved to see her go. She was a perfectly nice old woman whoput her foot into a far more complex situation than she realized. Hardly her fault.

Achilles is quiet for a long time, so long that I’m afraid the fragile intimacy he showed me the first glimpse of is already gone. But as he starts walking through aisles of handmade children’s clothes, he doesn’t pull his arm out of mine. In fact, he holds me closer than ever.

“What’s Sidony’s favorite color?” I ask, in part to break the silence, in part to help him find what he’s looking for.

“Blue, most of the time,” he answers automatically. “Every now and then I’ll ask and she tells me purple.”

“Blue or purple,” I muse, looking at little dresses and shirts and coats. “She loves going outside- do you think she’d like an umbrella?”

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