Page 18 of Mafia Don's Twisted Union

“Enough,” I cut in, my tone firm but not harsh. “Bianca, your role is critical. This event is as much about legacy as it is business. Your involvement strengthens the message we’re sending.”

Bianca sits back, her expression softening slightly. “Legacy,” she echoes, her voice quieter now. “That’s a heavy word, Dad.”

I glance at her, noting the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “It is,” I admit. “But you’re strong enough to carry it.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze shifting to Mia. “Well, if I’m carrying legacy, I’m glad I have my best friend here to keep me grounded. This thing’s going to be huge.”

Mia smiles, the tension easing slightly. “That’s what I’m here for. To make sure everything runs smoothly.”

Bianca exhales sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t know how you do it, Mia. Balancing all this pressure and my father’s... demands.”

Mia glances at me briefly, her cheeks warming. “It helps when the stakes are clear. This event matters, and that keeps me focused.”

Bianca gives her a knowing look. “Focused, huh? You’ve got nerves of steel, I’ll give you that. But don’t let him intimidate you too much. He might be a perfectionist, but deep down, he’s all bark and no bite.”

“Bianca,” I warn, my tone low.

She holds up her hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Relax, Dad. I’m just saying. She’s already got you wrapped around her finger, whether you realize it or not.”

Mia’s blush deepens, and she looks away, pretending to jot something down in her notebook.

“See? Even she knows it.”

Mia clears her throat, her voice steady despite the flush in her cheeks. “I think we’ve covered everything we need for today. Bianca’s role is clear, and I’ll ensure the details reflect her importance to the gala.”

Bianca smirks knowingly. “Fine. I’ll play along. But don’t expect me to act like some perfect debutante.”

“I’d never ask that of you,” I interject, my tone firmer than intended. “Be yourself, but remember this event reflects the family. Every move matters.”

Bianca gives a small salute. “Yes, sir. Anything else, or am I free to escape now?”

I nod toward the door. “We’re done here.”

Bianca stands, stretching dramatically. Before leaving, she throws a parting glance at Mia. “Good luck with him. You’ll need it.”

The door closes with a soft click, leaving an electric silence between us. Mia busies herself with her notebook, avoiding mygaze. Her movements are precise, but there’s an edge of tension I don’t miss.

“You handled that well,” I say, breaking the quiet.

Her head snaps up, and for a second, something flickers in her eyes—an echo of the intimacy we shared. “Bianca’s protective of you,” she says, deflecting.

“She’s perceptive,” I reply evenly, stepping closer. The way Mia’s fingers tighten around her pen doesn’t escape me.

“I noticed,” she murmurs, dropping her gaze back to the papers in front of her. “But it’s good to see how much she cares about the gala.”

“You’ve earned her respect.” I pause, searching her expression for any sign of acknowledgment of our shared night. “And mine.”

Her cheeks color faintly, but she keeps her focus on her notes. “Thank you, Carlito. That means a lot.”

The use of my first name, deliberate or accidental, sharpens the air between us. For a moment, I think she might say more, but instead, she slips her notebook into her bag and straightens.

“I’ll finalize the details and have them ready for review by tomorrow,” she says, her tone clipped.

I step closer, the space between us charged. “Mia.”

Her breath catches, but she forces herself to meet my gaze. “Yes?”

“There’s something we haven’t addressed,” I say, my voice lower now.

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