Page 19 of Married to the Enemy

Mia’s pulse thundered. Impetuous didn’t even begin to cover this. Offering her home, her life, to a boy she’d just met and a man she didn’t understand, a man who could be hiding dangerous secrets? Yes, this easily topped the list of reckless decisions.

She glanced down at Nonna for support. Instead of scolding, Evangeline smirked, wiping chicken grease daintily off her fingers and whispering softly, “About damn time you did something entertaining.” Then she chose another piece of fried chicken from the box.

The silence stretched. Mia felt the weight of it as she locked eyes with her new husband. Those impossibly clear blue eyes seemed to ask, Are you serious?

“And who are you?” the judge demanded, exasperation sharpening her tone.

“I’m Mr. Moretti’s wife,” Mia said, her voice barely cracking on that last word. She forced her chin up, though her heart was pounding hard enough to rattle her ribs. “And I have more than enough room in my home to accommodate the boy.”

Her eyes drifted to the child. Freddy. He was trying not to look at anyone, his dark hair falling over his face like a shield. Still, he couldn’t help it. He peeked sideways at Raffe, as if silently asking him what to do.

But Raffe wasn’t looking at Freddy. He was staring at her, jaw tight, blue eyes blazing with something that made her knees wobble. Shock? Fury? Maybe both.

Mia’s pulse skittered. She knew she’d stepped right into the middle of something she didn’t understand, but there was no turning back now. The boy couldn’t go back to those horrible, sneering people across the courtroom. Their glares stabbed at her like knives, but she held her ground.

“What’s your address, Ms. Moretti?” the judge asked, her tone cautious but curious.

Mia patted her nonna’s shoulder, a silent squeeze of reassurance, before stepping forward. She stopped when she was beside Raffe, the heat of him prickling against one side and Evangaline’s comforting presence on the other since she’d rolled her wheelchair to the front now. Pulling a sealed envelope from her bag, she offered it to the bailiff with steady fingers.

“This has my address on it, Your Honor. I’m not comfortable announcing it in open court.”

The bailiff carried it to the bench. The judge opened it, glanced at the address, then quickly typed it into her computer. Her brows shot up. The corner of her lips twitched. Then she handed the envelope back down the chain until it was returned to Mia.

“I see,” the judge said, voice thoughtful. “And you’re willing to take on the burden of the child’s care?”

Mia’s spine stiffened at the word burden. She turned her head, looking straight at Freddy. His small hands gripped the armrest of his chair like he was holding on to the last lifeline he had. He needed a bath. He needed real food, real clothes. But most of all, he needed someone to tell him he mattered.

“No, Your Honor,” Mia said, her voice strong now. “I don’t consider helping a child in need to be a burden. I’m more than willing to stand by my husband and offer this boy every ounce of love, care, food, medical support, and confidence he deserves.”

For a moment, breathless silence swept the courtroom.

Then a chair squeaked behind her. Evangeline—frail, wrinkled, and supposedly dependent on her wheelchair—rose to her feet like a queen. She smoothed her blouse, leveled her gaze at the judge, and announced in a voice that carried to the rafters, “And I’ll be there to help! We may be a mismatched family, Your Honor, but we’ll muddle through. We always do.”

Gasps fluttered around the courtroom. Even Freddy’s eyes widened.

Mia shot her grandmother a shocked look. “Nonna! You—”

Evangeline just winked and patted Mia’s arm. “Hush, dear. It’s called dramatic effect. The judges always love a good dramatic effect,” she said in a stage whisper.

The judge’s lips twitched as if she were fighting back a smile. She turned her attention to the social worker. “Ms. Carmichael, do you approve of this arrangement?”

The social worker stood quickly, her grin so wide it was practically contagious. She placed a gentle hand on Freddy’s shoulder, soothing him. “Absolutely, Your Honor. We don’t usually see positive outcomes like this. I’ll visit the home today for inspection, after giving the new family some time to settle in. You’ll have my report on your desk tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent!” the judge declared, lifting her gavel. She slammed it down once, the sound echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap. “So ordered.”

The courtroom buzzed with whispers and movement, but Mia could only hear her own breath, ragged with adrenaline. She’d just volunteered her home. Her life. For a boy she hadn’t even met.

Beside her, Evangeline leaned close and murmured slyly, “Well, mia cara, if you wanted to find out more about your husband, this is a good way to do it.”

Mia almost laughed despite herself. Leave it to Nonna to make a joke at the moment her whole world tilted upside down.

Chapter 11

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Raffe growled in Mia’s ear as they stepped away from Jenny, the uncharacteristically cheerful social worker who had just shoved a mountain of paperwork at them. Paperwork that now bound them both to a boy who didn’t deserve the hell he’d been forced into. “Freddy and I could’ve figured this out on our own.”

His jaw was tight, his voice low, meant only for her. Damn it, he was furious. She’d just hijacked the hearing, hijacked his life!

But another part of him—an infuriating part—couldn’t help but admire the way she’d stood up in open court, chin high, voice strong, offering her home to a boy she’d never even known about before now. It had been reckless, impulsive, utterly maddening… and impressive as hell.