Page 72 of Mafie Trials

She leaves it at that, and I’m left wondering, hoping, and using my Christmas wish to ask for that to be true. Because if they make me choose, I might just have to choose myself instead.

Chapter 27

Christmas in Ireland is supposed to be a dream. Growing up, I remember when the winter solstice would come around and my mother and I would shop for our family. There was so much joy to be seen and so much life to appreciate.

I would have cocoa and sit on the back porch by the fire with my dearest friend Cillian. We would joke and cuddle under the same blanket for warmth. He was my first love—and likely my last.

The summer after I turned eighteen, my father tried to arrange our marriage, doing his best to give me what I wanted. Cillian and I had been in love since we were eight years old. When his father said no to my family's proposal, they ran to tell Cillian they wanted a better life for him than a mafia princess. The very next year, his parents were found and killed by my fathers people. You didn’t say no to my father.

So when he arranged a new marriage for me, one with a man much older than I am, I wasn’t allowed to say no either. I came to Elysium to prove to him I could climb the ranks on my own and rule without a partner. When word got to my father about the ease of Evie taking me down, he officially signed the papers that would make me Ronan O’Brien’s wife on the day I graduated.

Little does he know, I don’t plan to graduate. I won’t hurt Evie’s mission in any way, but I do plan to fake my death and get away from my father along with the serial killer he gave me over to. I had planned to tell Evie, but I don’t want anything coming back to her.

It’s why I’m paying close attention and learning all that I can from Boris. It’s not to learn about his organization, it’s to learn to stay hidden from someone as powerful as he is. I pick up my phone as it rings from the nightstand, pulling me from my wandering thoughts.

*packages at your door*

I didn’t order any packages.

Anger rises in me at the idea of my father sending me something. I had told him I didn’t plan to come home during the break because I needed time to catch up with the advanced long range shooting lessons I missed out on while I fell ill. Aka, my time being held as a prisoner.

I set the tracker beside the bed, so it doesn’t register Evie going on a run, while I head over to my old room for the packages. I swear that girl runs more than anyone I’ve ever known. At least this gives me a little break from the routine.

When I get to my door, over twenty packages greet me in all different shapes and sizes. The courier must have given me someone else's packages because there is no way this is for me. My father never wastes time on pretty notes or intricate wrapping. He hardly even knows what I like anymore since refusing to have a relationship with me when Cillian’s family publicly embarrassed him.

Nessa,

Since no one should be alone on the holiday, here’s a few gifts to help keep you company.

B

Holy shit, did Boris get me all of these?

I look up and down the hall before pulling everything into the room, stacking it neatly on the coffee table and send him a picture.

Nessa: You didn’t have to do this. It's too much.

Boris: It’s not too much. You put your life on the line to protect my son and the woman he loves. Consider this a thank you and a Merry Christmas, Little Fox.

I blush, actually blush over the words of a man the same age as my father.

What is wrong with me?

Nessa: Well, thank you. And Merry Christmas to you too.

I set down my phone and decide to spoil myself for the day. I’ve been exhausted from running the search on the island for any leftover intruders at night while I keep Evie’s tracker in her bed. Today, I think even Evie would take the time to relax.

I text Evie my plans for the day, just in case her uncle messages her. She responds with a thumbs up and a heart emoji. I’m going to assume Damien’s got ahold of her phone.

After making some hot cocoa, I turn on some traditional Christmas music to set the mood. Then, I sit back and begin to peel away the intricate wrapping paper. Luxurious bubble baths, silk nightgowns, and a black Cartier bracelet with a small geometric fox in the center all have my heart swelling with a sense of fullness.

It isn’t until I open the present marked as ‘open last’ that tears threaten to spill from my eyes.

Years ago, when my father actually cared about me and what I wanted for my life, he gave me the painting of a Celtic knot shield. It’s one of the only things I have from him, and I keep it to remember that I was once very loved by him.

“The Celtic knot shield is said to be a sign of strength and protection. It was placed on battlefields to warn off the weak and to show that the people of the land held power. You, my sweet love, hold that same power in your veins.”

I can still hear his words in my mind, feel the cool breeze of the spring day, and smell the lilies in the air even now.

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