Page 72 of Brando

Mia’s expression falters, the gears in her mind working overtime as she tries to process what I’ve just said. She’s taken aback, clearly struggling to connect the dots. The idea that Allegra would see her as a role model for a child, let alone want her as a godmother, doesn’t sit right with her. It’s overwhelming. I get it. I’ve seen Mia—she’s been the protector of her sisters, the one who always had to be strong. And that’s been her role for so long, she’s never really let herself imagine she could be anything more than that.

I see the vulnerability she tries to hide, the self-doubt creeping into her gaze. She’s always been the fighter, the one who shoulders responsibility, and she doesn’t know what it’s like to be seen as someone nurturing, someone who can guide and care in a way that isn’t about survival. I’ve watched her take on burdens, one after another. It’s not that she doesn’twanttogive, but the thought of nurturing—of being vulnerable enough to open her heart like that—it scares her. And that fear, it’s what makes me want to tell her how I see her. To show her that she’s more than just the walls she’s built around herself.

I take a step closer, then reach out to take her hand. The movement is simple, but it feels important. Our fingers entwine, and I hold her hand steady as we begin to walk out of the empty mall, the muted hum of fluorescent lights hanging above us. The air between us is heavy with everything left unsaid.

I glance at two of our soldiers, giving them a nod. “Take out the trash,” I mutter, and they turn to do the job, fading into the background.

I turn my attention back to Mia, my tone low, sincere. “You’ll always be there when it counts, Mia. Allegra sees that. She knows you’d lay yourself down for those you care about. That’s the kind of person she wants to be there for Scarlett. Someone who knows what it means to protect. Someone who won’t hesitate when it matters.”

She’s quiet for a long time after I speak, her expression unreadable. I can tell my words are weighing heavily on her, and it doesn’t take much to figure out that she’s still processing it all. I know her well enough to know she doesn’twantto be soft. She’s always been hard on the outside, a shield. She’s been the one to fight and protect, not the one to nurture or give care. She’s never really seen herself as anything other than that role. It’s the role she’s clung to for so long. To her, being a protector is something expected of her. Not something she chose.

But I see something in her that she doesn’t even recognize in herself. The ability to give, not just to fight. And deep down, I know she would make an incredible Godmother—someone Scarlett could look up to, not because she’s perfect, but because of the strength, the loyalty, the fierce protection she gives those she loves.

She looks down at her hands, twisting the sleeve of her shirt nervously. She’s still unsure, still not ready to take that step. “I never thought of myself that way,” she admits quietly, almost to herself. Her voice is soft, the vulnerability there, raw. “I mean, I protect my sisters, but I never thought of myself as… someone people would look up to. I always just did what I had to.”

I pause, considering my words carefully before speaking again. My voice softens, the weight of the conversation shifting. “That’s the thing, Mia,” I say. “You don’t have to be anything other than who you are. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about the fact that when things get tough, you’re there. And that means more than anything. Allegra knows that. She knows you’ll be that kind of presence in Scarlett’s life—someone who’ll teach her the value of strength, loyalty, and what it means to stand up for the people you love.”

There’s a silence between us then, thick and full of unspoken thoughts. I don’t push her further, don’t offer more words, because I know she needs time to process. She’s never been good at accepting what she deserves, and this—this Godmother talk—is something deeper than just family obligations. It’s about trusting herself to be more than just a protector. But I know Mia, and I know she’ll come around in time. She has more to give than she’s willing to admit.

Mia finally meets my gaze again. It’s like something’s shifted in her, though she still looks uncertain. Her lips curl into a small, almost uncertain smile. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of responsibility,” she admits, her voice softer now, the uncertainty still there but not as sharp. “But… I guess we’ll see.”

I nod, my expression softening, and for the first time, I see her open up just a little. She’s not running from it anymore. She’s considering it. And for Mia, that’s progress.

She takes a deep breath, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She’s thinking about Allegra. About Scarlett.About the future. I know she’s still scared, but for the first time in a long time, she’s not as afraid of what stepping into that role could mean. Not because she has it all figured out, but because, deep down, she knows she doesn’t need to. All she has to do is show up—and that might just be enough.

37

BRANDO

“So, when are you two getting married?”

“You know we don’t believe in living together out of wedlock.”

“We’re very devout, marriage is the devout thing to do.”

The clink of silverware on plates, the murmur of conversation—it’s all familiar. The kind of noise that fills the space with comfort, with warmth. It’s easy, at least for everyone else. But for me? Well, the noise is drowned out by the sound of my own thoughts, buzzing louder than the chatter around the table.

We’re gathered at the family dinner table, all of us sharing a moment that feels both casual and monumental. The air is heavy with unspoken words. There’s a quiet, unspoken tension running through me, and I know Mia feels it too.

I glance over at her, watching as she talks to Allegra, her laugh a little too sharp, too quick. She's playing it off, but I know her well enough to see the guard she’s put up. She does that when she’s uncomfortable, when something's got her mind spinning.

I can’t blame her. Lucky and Rafi have been at it all night, dropping little jabs and nudges, trying to play Cupid, like they’ve got it all figured out.

“So, when are you two getting married?” Lucky’s voice cuts through the chatter, like he’s just asked what’s for dinner. He’s that casual, that sure of himself.

I nearly choke on my drink. I don’t think anyone could’ve prepared me for this one. My throat tightens. I can feel Mia freeze beside me. I glance at her, and for a split second, I see a flicker of panic in her eyes—just a flash. But she’s quick to hide it, plastering on a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

I want to tell them to back off, that this isn’t their business. But I can’t. Not when Mia’s sitting right there. Not when I know what this is really about – us. The way we’ve been skirting around the conversation. The way I’ve been avoiding it for months.

I try to keep my tone light, easy. “You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. I know it’s a joke, a playful way to deflect. But underneath it, I can’t ignore the pulse of anxiety in my chest.

“We’re very devout,” Rafi adds, his voice thick with mock seriousness. “Marriage is the devout thing to do.” He laughs, clearly enjoying this little game. It’s all in good fun, but for me, it feels like a slow burn, digging into me where I’m vulnerable.

I can feel Mia tense up beside me. The smile on her face falters just a little, but she’s quick to recover. She’s good at that—putting up walls, deflecting, pretending it doesn’t bother her. But I see it. I see the way her fingers tighten around her glass, the way her shoulders are just a little too stiff.

I force myself to relax, trying to shift the conversation before it goes somewhere neither of us is ready for. I give Lucky a pointed look. “We’re not in any rush.”

It’s true. I’m not rushing anything. Not with her. Not with us. I’ve wanted to put a ring on her finger since the day I met her. Every goddamn day, the idea of locking her down, making her mine forever, pulls at my chest like a magnet. But I know it’s too much, too soon. I can’t just demand that from her. Not after everything she’s been through, not when I know how much she’s still carrying.

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