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Even rumpled and tired after her day’s great escape, even dressed in those ridiculous clothes with escaped tendrils hanging from her updo, Mia makes my heart stop.
What do I need to do to make her feel that way aboutme?Should I grow a beard? Davide had a beard. I’ll do it, even though it makes my top lip itchy. Anything for her.
“I’ve fed you,” I point out reasonably, nodding at the sandwich wrappers and soda cans in the tiny compartment trash can. Nothing fancy, but the best I could do with the train’s shitty food cart. “I’ll keep you safe and protected. I’ll be good to you, and you’ll learn to love me.”
This time, her words are tired. She still won’t look at me. “I’m a human woman, Palladino, not a stray puppy you’ve taken in off the street. You can’t make me like you.”
Pain flares through my chest. It’s my turn to stare blindly out the window.
I’ve loved her for so long. Since the moment I saw her.
It never occurred to me that Mia wouldn’t want me back.
It makes sense though, right? My brother Davide was always the one the girls panted after. I’m the loose cannon; the Palladino rabid dog. Too manic for people to relax around.
Never mind that underneath his cool charm, Davide was crueler than any of us, and never mind that I’m already fully tamed. Domesticated to my Mia.
Would she rather have married my brother after all, despite his cruelty? She agreed tothatmatch. Would she have left him at the altar like she did me?
Or would she have swept up that aisle in those poofy white skirts? Fixed my vicious brother with a sultry smile?
Oh god. I’m going to be sick.
“Leo,” Mia says, and she sounds alarmed. I bury my face in my hands. My breath is hot, and my head is pounding. Every lurch over the rails makes my stomach flop. I hate this fucking train.
“Leo?”
“Run if you like,” I grind out, delivering my line, but there’s no heat in it. Not anymore. “I’ll only catch you again.”
Mia is silent. She doesn’t run.
She sits on that bench and watches as my world falls apart.
I’ll give it to my fiance. It’s a power move.
* * *
“It’s not personal.”
Mia hasn’t spoken for hours. It’s late now, around midnight, but neither of us shows any signs of sleeping. Me, I’m too wired. Too rigid with tension and sick with despair.
I don’t know why my bride is still awake. Why would I? Turns out I barely know her at all.Ithought we were toying with each other, circling each other like cats, but that at the end of everything, we’d have an understanding. I thought we were kindred spirits.
Meanwhile Mia thinks I’m an insane stalker who won’t leave her alone. If I fall asleep, she probablywillslit my throat.
“What’s not personal?” It takes a while for her words to sink through my muddled head. I’m in a nightmarish haze.
“Running away.” Her chin rests on her knees, her pale arms wrapped around her shins. Mia watches me closely, perched in the middle of the fold out bed I set up for her. A scratchy blue blanket lies rumpled at her side, and her unused pillow is flatter than a pancake. “I’m not—not running away fromyou, Leo. I’m running away from the wedding. Do you see what I mean?”
No.
The wedding was a path to me. A path to our shared future. So what’s the difference?
I sigh. “Go to sleep, Mia.”
She straightens, affronted. My mafia princess does not like to be bossed around; even reasonable orders are parried like blows. “Hardly. And trustyouwith my sleeping body?”
I shrug, too sickened to speak.
