The Mafia Boss

Ch. 39: Open your eyes, angel.

The morning of your wedding should be a happy occasion. Full of excitement and joy. Mine is nothing but misery. I've not eaten since yesterday and I can barely bring myself to speak. Eva and Olivia are trying everything in their power to make the morning flow better, but nothing is working. Nothing will ease the constant shattering of my heart. Tilly is the only one acting normal and although I suspect it's down to denial, I'd be lying if I said her presence wasn't a comfort. Fiona has yet to pay me a visit, apparently too caught up in her anger to even consider it. That's what the girls are telling me, anyway. I know the real reason why she isn't here. The truth behind her need to keep her distance.

She's with Torin.

Comforting him.

"It's time," informs Olivia, gesturing towards the hanging dress on my closet door.

It was hand-delivered this morning in the prettiest of pink boxes. Frank ordered his men to make sure I personally accepted the package and even had the audacity to send flowers with it. They're a mixture of pink and white roses and—although gorgeous—I fucking despise them.

Trust Frank O'Neil to ruin pretty flowers for me.

"It's beautiful," promises Eva, lightly running her fingers down the silk material.

"Is it?"

I wouldn't know. I've yet to look.

"Yes."

Her eyes follow the long train, harbouring her own misery. She is no longer obliged to marry Torin, but that's hardly cause for celebration. Not when the damage is already done. With Finn dead, dynamics are shifting, and ludicrous deals are being broken. A new generation of mafia bosses are stepping into the spotlight, but there are still some who insist on tradition. Who think a woman is best put to use with her mouth shut and her legs open. And so long as they're still breathing, I'm destined for a life of hell. But I tell myself it's worth it. And it is. If Maeve can have a long and happy life, every second of my misery will be worth it.

Torin is right. Being a parent is fucking shit. But it's also wonderfully beautiful and I wouldn't change it for the world. I only hope Maeve never grows up to learn the true extent of my sacrifice. I hope she—herself—never understands the harshness this life has to offer. I want her to marry whoever she wants, or not marry at all. I hope she knows a life where her opinions matter and her choices are her own. That—more than anything—is what I stive for.

Making her life significantly better than my own.

"Would you like a moment alone?" asks Eva, no doubt sensing my sadness.

"Fuck, no!" I insist. "Under no circumstances are you to leave me this morning."

She laughs, smile barely reaching her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" I ask, lowering my voice so only she can hear me.

She sighs, unable to say much else.

"Eva?"

"Not really."

"What's wrong?"

She gestures towards my wedding dress, eyes wide. "Imogen—I'm not about to offload my burdens when you're clearly going through something much worse."

"I'll be the judge of that," I tell her, lightly tugging on her sleeve. "I'm your friend and I want to help."

She nods, eyes filling with tears.

"Is it Reaper?"

"Yes."

Her cheeks are wet within seconds, the mention of his name triggering her need to cry.