Page 68 of Wicked Mafia Beast
I nod.
“I was engaged to a man my father chose for me." Her voice is calm, measured, pitched beneath the café noise so only I can hear. "The engagement was a business arrangement. My feelings weren't part of the equation. And when I tried to express them, he made sure I understood how little they mattered."
“I know the feeling.”
“So Kon has expressed.”
“Has he told you everything?”
Her fingers tighten around her mug, just slightly, the knuckles going pale beneath the freckled skin. She notices me noticing and loosens her grip deliberately.
"No. I’m sure he’s left a lot out. But we can talk about that in a minute. I found Scarlet Thorn the way most women do. Desperate. Out of options. I dropped a wish into that box with shaking hands and zero expectation that anything would change." A rueful smile curves her lips. "And then Rafael Milano crashed my wedding and stole me from the groom."
My brows shoot up. "Literally?"
"Literally. Walked in during the ceremony, told my fiancé that the arrangement was dissolved, and informed everyone in attendance that I was under Syndicate protection." She laughs, soft and real. "I thought he was insane. I thought I'd traded one cage for another."
"But you hadn't."
"No." The laughter fades into a tenderness that sits openly on her face. "He gave me a choice. At every turn, Onyx. Stay or go. Trust him or don't. Love him or walk away. There were conditions to the arrangement, boundaries, expectations. But the door was never locked nor were my wings ever clipped."
The words settle into my chest and press against a bruise I’ve worked hard to heal ever since I wrote my own wish.
"But you stayed," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intend.
"I stayed. I didn’t have to, but it didn’t take me long to realize I wanted to." She shifts Sofia to her other knee, her freckled nose scrunching as she considers her next words. "It sounds clean when I say it now. But it wasn't. There were fights that shook the walls. Misunderstandings that nearly destroyed us. Moments I packed a bag and stood at the door and thought I was making the worst mistake of my life." Her aqua eyes hold mine, unflinching. "But I kept choosing him. And he kept choosing me. Over and over and over, even when it was hard. Especially when it was hard. That's what love is, isn't it? Not a feeling. A choice you keep making."
The espresso machine hisses behind the counter. A spoon clinks against ceramic. Sofia babbles a string of syllables that sound almost like words and grabs another piece of scone.
"Kon." His name comes out of my mouth before I've given it permission. "Is he... is he capable of that? The choosing? He seems so open and honest that I am having a hard time understanding if what he is telling me is real. I grew up with lies coming out of everyone’s mouth non-stop. Being told the truth is so…"
“You don’t know how to trust is the problem."
“Yes,” I agree.
"Kon is Kon." Persia's expression softens further, if that's possible, her aqua eyes going luminous with an affection that extends beyond her own marriage and into the family these men have built. "Quieter than Rafael. Darker. Carrying more scars, inside and out. But he's loyal to the marrow of his bones. He would die for his brothers without a second thought and if he brought you to his home, he has already decided you are worth dying for to protect." She pauses, her gaze sharpening on myface. "And if he loves you, Onyx, there is nothing on this earth he wouldn't do to keep you safe. Nothing he wouldn't burn, break, or bleed for."
"I don't know if he loves me."
The words tumble out, raw and honest, and I hate how small they sound in the warm clatter of this café.
"Do you love him?"
My throat closes. The answer is there, pressing against the back of my teeth, but I can't let it out. Saying it makes it real. And real things can be taken from you. I learned that lesson when I was twelve years old, gripping a broken vase while my uncle's rage filled every corner of the room.
Persia doesn't push. She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, her grip warm and firm, her freckled fingers laced through mine.
"You'll figure it out." Her smile is gentle, knowing, and patient. "We all did. Every single one of us stood exactly where you're standing and thought we were losing our minds. You're not. You're just falling in love with a man who doesn't make it easy."
"Understatement of the century."
She laughs, bright and genuine, and Sofia claps her hands at the sound. "Welcome to the club, Onyx. The initiation is terrible, but the membership has perks."
We stay for another half hour. She tells me about Sofia's first steps, about Rafael's hopeless addiction to terrible action movies, about the time Kon babysat Sofia for an evening and she came home to find him reading her Dostoevsky in Russian while she slept against his chest.
"She had the most peaceful nap of her life." Persia grins. "Apparently Russian literature is an excellent lullaby."
By the time I hug her goodbye at the door, my chest feels simultaneously lighter and heavier than it did when I walked in. Lighter because the truth she shared made sense of my thoughts and helped me see a way forward on one hand. Yet my heart feels heavier because the implications of what I am feeling scares me.
