Mila: The Godfather (Unholy Trinity Book 7)
Mila: The Godfather: Prologue

“When you close your eyes, do you dream of me?” – R

I knock on the black double door once, and a second later, that two-face cunt, Scotty Flynn, answers with a stupid-as-fuck grin on his face. Ignoring him, I step inside Da’s home office and take a seat right in front of him. Cathan O’Sullivan, my father, and ex-boss of the O’Sullivan clan, leans back in his chair with a cig between his teeth as he grins at me. “It’s time, a sheòid.” He pulls a folded photo out of the drawer and throws it onto his desk.

Tilting my head, I reach down and unfold the photo of a bland-looking woman and then lay it back down without giving it another thought. “No.”

My old man’s eyes narrow. “No?”

Leaning forward, I snatch the cig from his mouth and put it out on the woman’s photo. “You heard me.” I give my father a dull look. The fuck is he thinking suggesting this shit?

Da sighs, grabs the photo, and throws it in the trash. My father hates messes just as much as I hate being told what to do. A fact he knows well. “The last thing I want is to tell you how to live your life. My priority has always been and will always be your happiness and well-being, even in the life you grew up in. That is all I wish for you, son.”

I don’t doubt it.

Not for a second.

Da has always guided me, but never once has he dictated my life. “Why now, then? There is no fucking way I’ll marry that viper.”

Cathan averts his gaze as his smile falters. He won’t look at me. Instead, he focuses on his desk. That is how I know something is off. My father has never cowered to anyone. Even in his darkest moment, he holds his head high and looks you in the eye, unafraid, but this is not the case now. “What’s wrong?” I bark out.

There’s a moment of silence before Da looks up at me and says, “I’m sick, son.”

I feel my pulse rise and my knees wobble for the first time in my goddamn life. Leaning forward in the seat, in front of him, I feel like a wee boy again. You see… Cathan O’Sullivan has always been and will always be the most important person in my life. The man who made me. My dark hero.

Not only my father but my friend.

Once, I believed nothing could bring him down.

Fuck, did I witness a lot of people try.

Bullets and bombs included.

Nothing ever did.

He was untouchable.

Fuck.

“How sick?” My voice comes out hoarse. Looking into identical eyes to my own, I try again when he doesn’t answer. “How fucking sick, Da?”

My father’s mouth turns into a grim line. “Really fucking sick, kid. I’ll fight it. I won’t ever stop fighting for forever with you, little king, but just in case something was—”

Rising from my seat, I hover over my father’s desk. “Nothing is going to happen. You’re Cathan O’Sullivan.”

Nodding, my father leans back on his chair. “I am, but kid, I can’t be all you have. I need you to replace someone who will take care of you when I—”

No.

This shit ain’t happening.

He ain’t leaving me.

Not him, too.

He’ll be alright, I am sure of it, but if me replaceing a wife will make him worry less, then fuck it.

“I am not settling down with that soul-sucking demon,” I told him.

“Do you have a better choice than the only female boss in history, son?” My father smiles, all traces of sadness gone for a little while at least. “If you do, then please, I’m all ears.”

Nodding, I stand tall. “I do.”

“Who?”

“The youngest Parisi,” I say out loud. I’ve kept the girl’s existence to myself for years, but it’s time.

“Gabriele Parisi had two children, Riagan.”

Taking the cig I had snuck on top of my ear, I light it with my father’s zippo, take a quick drag, and expel the smoke upwards. “I’ve met her. She’s real.”

Da’s mouth twigs up into a smile. “I think it’s time I meet her then.”

“Soon.” I turn and head for the door, but before I exit the room, I throw one last thing over my shoulder. “And quit fucking smoking, and take better care of yourself from now on, yeah?’

My father laughs. “Yeah, kid, yeah.”

Shutting the office’s door behind me, I grab my phone from the back pocket, unlock it, and type a quick text to Daly. The soldier who is tasked with precious cargo.

Me: All good?

Bain: All good.

That’s all I need.

Pocketing my phone, I move.

I did not lie.

I never lied to my father before, and I’m not about to start now.

I did meet the woman I was going to marry, although I thought I had a little more time to ease her into the idea of me.

Of us.

This was not how it was supposed to go down but fuck it.

Divine timing, my mother used to say.

Divine timing, indeed.

I just wish it didn’t take my father being sick for me to go after what I always wanted.

What I crave most in this life.

Her.

Now all I need is for all the puzzle pieces to fall into place, but first… I’ll need a little help.