Sorry for the missed updates!

Guys, I think I might have to have surgery for endometriosis ☹️ I didn't even think I had it! I thought it was PCOS for six months 🥲 if any of you have any advice, please share! 🩷

That's your question of the day ⬆️🥹

Enjoy this chapter! ✨

There is one word I would use to describe the few days we spent in Riyadh.

Boring.

There were a few reasons why.

Firstly, Costa was pissed at me for ruining his first meeting. He was also extremely busy putting his all into his work to make up for that mess I apparently caused.

And, we were with Rocco and Tristano who both hated me. This meant I chose to spend more time alone than with the three of them when they weren't working.

And finally, they were all in a pissy mood in general. This mood got worse as the days went by.

Since they were so busy, we also stayed in Riyadh one day longer than planned. We were originally meant to travel back on October 24th.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I could tell this was huge decision for them. They wanted to be back in Sicily for something happening on the 25th, but work didn't permit them to travel back a day early.

The day we arrived back in Sicily I finally figured out what was happening on October 25th.

"Why are there so many cars here?" I frowned, looking at the unusual number of cars littered across their driveway.

The three brothers remained silent as Costa pulled up to the front door. I was left wondering what kind of gathering or event was going on while their workers quickly approached to take our luggage inside.

Meanwhile, Costa and his brothers got out to head inside without a word. I shouldn't have been surprised since I'd been receiving the silent treatment recently after my drunken antics that messed up their schedule. The three of them had also been particularly silent that day while we travelled back to Sicily. They barely even spoke to each other, let alone me.

We came across many guests loitering in the main entrance hall. And the first thing I noticed was that everyone was wearing black.

The next biggest sign of what was going on was the portrait of Costa's mother taking centre stage on an easel in the entry hall.

The three of them came to a slow stop at the sight of their mother's portrait. Since I was behind them, I could easily see the way their postures became tense, confusion and anger quickly building.

"What the fuck is this?" Rocco growled. He didn't care for the people watching us as we walked in. He was furious and he let everyone know it.

"Rocco." Tristano put a hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him down in such a public setting.

But it wasn't Rocco who needed calming down.

It was Costantino.

Without warning, my husband stormed past the lingering guests, heading straight into the main living area of the house. It was where the main crowd of people were.

The three of us were quick to follow him into the room full of guests. I recognised quite a few of them from our engagement party and the wedding day. They must have been a mix of members of the Accardi's extended family and close family friends.

Costa scanned the room, his eyes eventually landing on his father standing with his stepmother. He'd found his target and he strode straight over to them without hesitation.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" The room plunged into a deadly silence when Costa addressed his father in such a manner, very publicly.

"Costa." Edoardo Accardi used a warning tone, gripping his glass tighter.

"You're throwing a fucking party? How dare you." Those three words were dripping with icy venom - they held so much emotion.

I've seen Costa angry many times before, especially towards me when I spoke about his mother. But this was another level of anger. It was coming from somewhere else - somewhere so much deeper.

Unfortunately, I think he inherited his anger from his father. The rage that built up in Edoardo Accardi's eyes scared me. It genuinely had me fearing for Costa's safety when he suddenly stepped towards his son.

"How dare you speak to me this way. Rosa was my wife."

"Was. You moved on really fucking quickly after she died. You found another wife." Costa scoffed, taking a moment to give Nadia a look of disgust. "She was our mother. You don't hold a fucking party in her honour without consulting us first."

"Don't forget who is in charge here, son." Edoardo took another threatening step toward Costa, his fists clenching by his side.

"In charge? Seriously?" Costa scoffed, his stormy green eyes narrowing into slits. "You have me doing all your fucking dirty work while you sit back with this bitch you've used to replace my mother."

Costa pointed towards Nadia who looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. She wasn't as bad Costa thought she was, but I also understood where he was coming from. I didn't condone his behaviour, but I understood it. He just missed his mother.

It seemed like the mention of his current wife was also the last straw for his father. They continued their exchange, fuelled by too much anger to care they were in such a public setting.

Meanwhile, Tristano and Rocco were both trying to diffuse the situation. Rocco was busy politely telling people to 'Get the fuck out' of the house while Tristano tried to pull Costa away.

It was getting heated fast and I knew from experience that Edoardo Accardi was close to snapping - all the signs were there.

The sickening slap he gave Costa when he found out he was the one who orchestrated the plan to ruin the Greek-Russo alliance still haunted me.

"Costa. Come on." I tried to grab his arm, attempting to get him away from his enraged father. But he didn't want to hear it.

I kept a hold of his forearm, almost protectively, watching as they continued to exchange words. The two of them were having a screaming match in Italian so I could barely understand what was going on.

"Posso portarti via tutto con uno schiocco delle dita, bastardo ingrato. Non dare tutto questo per scontato, Costantino." (I can take it all away from you with a snap of my fingers, you ungrateful bastard. Don't take this all for granted, Costantino.)

"Non lo dò per scontato! Lavoro dannatamente duro, giorno dopo giorno." (I don't take it for granted! I work fucking hard, day in day out.) Costa was seething as he clenched his fists, glaring at his father.

"Eppure non è abbastanza buono, vero? Ti rilassi costantemente, soprattutto a causa di questa stronza insolente con cui sei sposato." (And yet it's not good enough, is it? You're constantly slacking off, especially because of this insolent bitch you're married to.)

I was forced to let go of my hold of his arm when Costa took a threatening step towards his father, the Don of the Sicilian Mafia.

"Non osare parlare di lei in quel modo." (Don't you dare speak about her like that) My husband ground out those words, anger radiating off his domineering figure.

"Ah. Ho toccato un nervo scoperto, vero?" (Ah. Touched a nerve, have I?) Edoardo smirked, his eyes flitting over to where I stood just behind his son. "Pensi che dovrei punirla per tutti gli incontri che ti sei perso in Medio Oriente?" (You think I should punish her for all the meetings you missed in the Middle East?)

The look he gave me sent an unsettling chill down my spine. I took the subtlest step closer to Costa, having no idea why he was looking at me like that.

"Provaci, cazzo. Non ti piacerà quello che accadrà." (Fucking try it. You won't like what will happen.) My husband seethed, taking a step closer to his father before adding one last thing. "Ti finirò." (I will end you.)

The two of them had the most heated stare down, the tension becoming suffocating as the seconds passed.

I waited with bated breath to see what would happen next.

Then Edoardo did the mature thing by suddenly whisking his wife out of the room before it could get any worse.

That left the four of us watching after them in a deathly silence. I was the only one who couldn't understand all of what they said, but I got the gist of it when they spoke English.

It was his mother's death anniversary and Edoardo threw a party in her honour.

It's also worth mentioning this is the first time it had been confirmed to me that Costa's mother was dead.

I guess it was obvious, but no one ever said a word about her or where she was or what happened. Sometimes you can't always just go with assumptions in the Mafia. Someone's missing presence could be for a number of reasons.

Stories are way more complicated than they first appear.

"Costa..." The sound of my voice had the tension coming back tenfold. His body tensed, his back and shoulders becoming taught. I could tell he was breathing heavily, clearly trying to get a hold over his emotions.

I didn't know what I was supposed to say.

"I..." I struggled to get anything out, especially when all the things I'd said about his mother came back to me.

When we argued I used his grief against him, labelling it as 'mommy issues'. I told him his mother wouldn't be proud of him. And it all suddenly made sense. That's why he and his brothers hated me so much.

Because she was dead.

Apparently he was thinking the same thing because Rocco scoffed, taking a step towards me. "If you want to keep your head, you'll keep your fucking mouth shut right now, Millie. One fucking word about her and I'll put a bullet between your eyes."

I didn't doubt him for a second. Today was the anniversary of her death and their pain was at the forefront of everything they were feeling.

It was driving their anger - if you could even call it anger. Perhaps rage or fury would be better to describe it.

"I didn't know." That's all I could muster up as Costa turned around, his green eyes fleetingly meeting mine.

I couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling towards me. Although they softened ever so slightly, his eyes were still stormy from his argument with his father.

"I'm sorr-" I never got to finish the word. It was cut off by the sound of a gun clicking in the silent room.

The sight of Rocco pointing his black hand gun in my direction had me freezing in my place.

"Rocco." Tristano spoke at the same time that Costa stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" My husband spat, his anger flaring all over again.

"Move." Rocco ground out and I could just imagine the expression of pure hatred on his face. Thankfully, I didn't have to see it head on because of Costa's tall figure blocking the view.

"Put the fucking gun down before I-"

"What are you going to do?" The youngest brother snapped. It's worth mentioning he's always been the most unhinged - in my opinion anyway. "I'll fucking shoot you too, Costa."

See?

"You don't have the fucking balls. I'll break your arm before you can even think about it." Costa stepped forward just as Rocco tossed the gun on the floor.

"Fucking try it, you-"

"That's enough." Tristano was the one to cut in, focussing his words towards my husband. "Take her and go upstairs. None of us need to deal with this shit tonight."

"No. You can leave and let me handle it." So I guess Costa was ready for a fight judging by the step he took towards Rocco.

"Costa." Tristano warned. "Tonight is not the night to push it. Go upstairs."

"Get out of my way." Costa snarled, his gaze fixed on Rocco. This time Tristano decided to shove Costa backwards. The force had him stumbling backwards, straight into me.

I just about managed to catch myself by grabbing onto Costa's arm before I lost my balance. He didn't say anything, but he did turn around to check if I was okay.

I wasn't okay.

I wanted to cry because he stepped on my toe. But it wasn't the time to make a big deal out of that.

But it fucking hurt.

Costa's eyes studied me, checking if I was alright before he turned around to lay into Tristano. His anger spiked all over again. "You better fucking-"

"That's enough." I cut Costa off, grabbing his arm to turn him around. "Let's go before it gets any worse."

He didn't want to leave with the mood he was in, but I managed to drag him away from Rocco who was ready to murder both of us.

I don't think Tristano would have stopped him if he tried. He may have shown it less, but I know Tristano hated me just as much as Rocco did.

Tonight was not the night to mess with any of them - that much was clear. I mean, even Edoardo scurried away after engaging with Costa like that.

Usually, Rocco is the most unhinged brother of the three, but tonight Costa was right up there too. And I was the unfortunate soul who had to spend the rest of the night alone with him.

He carried the tension with him all the way up to our bedroom where our luggage from our trip was waiting for us. I can't be the only one who hates unpacking after a long trip. Now add a furious husband and a throbbing toe to the mix and I'm ready to cry.

Costa didn't say a word as he stripped off his jacket, proceeding to unload all his weapons on a table with a lot more force than necessary. The sound of every heavy gun and knife landing on the table had me flinching.

I watched silently as he then stormed out onto the balcony that overlooked the back garden. I could see his domineering figure in the dark as he gripped the railing with tight hands, his body rigid and his back muscles taught.

Just from his stance I could tell he was trying to hold it together. But it wasn't really working - the anger was just below the surface, waiting to escape.

He probably wanted to go on a killing rampage or something.

I could be the first one he kills.

Shaking off that very likely thought, I put my purse down on the bed before heading over to the liquor he keeps in our room.

I grabbed his favourite bottle of whiskey along with a glass. I also stopped to pick up one of his expensive cigars and a lighter. With the items in hand, I tentatively stepped out onto the balcony under the dusky evening sky.

The tension in his body was so visible as I put the things down on the table of our outdoor seating area.

"Costa?" He didn't turn around when I spoke, so I hesitantly stepped towards him.

I knew I was risking it all by touching him in this mood, but I had to try and break through the haze he was in. If he continued simmering, there's no telling what could happen.

The moment my hand made contact with his shoulder, his entire body froze, somehow tensing up more than before. Then I gently tugged on his shoulder to turn him around, forcing him to relax his hold on the balcony railing.

His body slowly turned, his furious green eyes meeting mine again for the first time since we were downstairs. Just the fire burning in those murky green eyes had my words catching in my throat.

"C-Come and sit down." I sounded like a fucking child, barely able to form the sentence properly in front of him.

He could snap my neck in seconds and he'd probably only mildly regret the inconvenience later because he'd have to explain to my family how I died. 

Maybe he'd just text them or something? Who knows.

For another few moments he refused to move. It was like he was studying me, trying to determine what gave me the audacity to speak to him. Eventually, his gaze slowly shifted towards the table where I'd put his favourite whiskey and a cigar out.

He kept his thoughts securely guarded, especially when his eyes met mine again. He was thinking something, I just couldn't understand what it was.

Perhaps I overstepped by getting them out for him? Or, maybe he felt insulted that I thought cigars and whiskey would be enough to calm him on his mother's death anniversary.

Whatever it was, he didn't let me figure it out. With heavy steps, he made his way over to the seating area, dropping down on the couch. He didn't make a move to touch anything, so I stupidly followed him to pour him a glass of whiskey.

I felt his burning gaze me on the entire time I poured the glass. I even took the fucking liberty of preparing the cigar for him by clipping off the tip. I left it there with a lighter for him to light it when he was ready.

At this point, I decided not to embarrass myself any further so I turned around to leave him alone in peace.

"Wait." His deep voice cut through the silence on the balcony. Before I could make it far, he grabbed my hand to stop me from leaving.

And I just knew I was dying. He was going to kill me and send my body back to my family in small boxes to save on the shipping cost.

"Stay."

I hope dying doesn't hurt.

Wait...what?

"You want me to stay? Are you sure?" Maybe he's drunk already?

"Sì." He tugged on my hand, guiding me to sit down next to him. I was so close to him I could smell his cologne and it was heavenly.

Heavenly.

He took a slow gulp of his whiskey, staring straight ahead at the view of the garden. He didn't say anything which only added to my confusion. He was just sitting there clearly with something going around in his mind.

And the pressure of the silence was getting too much for me.

"I'm so sorry, Costa. I didn't know. I was just angry and everything was different between us then - although we do kind of still hate each other now. I know you're planning to kill me and I kind of deserve it but I didn't know about your mother or I wouldn't have-"

"Can you shut up?" He finally spoke, murmuring the words as he picked up his cigar. "You're irritating me."

How rude. "Then why am I here?"

"Shit, I don't fucking know." He snapped, flicking open his unnecessarily expensive S.T DuPont lighter. "Just be quiet, Millie."

While he lit his cigar, I sat there giving him the most incredulous expression. Like, how dare he speak to me that way? I knew he could feel it burning into the side of his face - my glares absolutely have that power.

Plus, made men have this sixth sense from the moment they're born. They know when they're being given any kind of look whether it be a subtle side eye or a full blown glare.

But he chose to ignore me.

So I got a front row seat to openly watch him put his lips to the cigar. His Adam's Apple bobbed as he savoured the thick smoke, his plump lips encircled around the cigar. Then he removed it, holding the smoke in his mouth for a second before releasing the cloud towards the sky.

And I suddenly forgot he'd just snapped at me.

It was sexy as fuck.

Like seriously - I was ready to throw myself off the balcony and die - which is becoming a regular occurrence, by the way. If that was my last sight, I'd die a happy virgin boss bitch.

"Are you done?" He released a velvety chuckle, turning to look at me. His green eyes were so much lighter than earlier, now dancing with amusement.

"Done?" I tried to play it off, frowning in confusion. But I knew exactly what I was doing and this smug little bitch knew it too.

"Eye fucking me."

"I was not-"

"Don't bother." He laughed again, bringing the cigar back to his lips.

What a lucky cigar.

Shaking off that irritating thought, I shuffled away from my husband to put some much needed distance between us.

His cologne was doing bad things to me.

This time I didn't let the silence bother me, I just got lost in my thoughts about everything that went down earlier.

We must have sat for at least fifteen minutes in a weirdly comfortable silence while Costa smoked his cigar. He also had a couple more drinks which definitely loosened him up for the conversation we were about to have.

"You didn't need to apologise, Millie." His gravelly voice broke through the silence, causing me to look at him. "You were right, you didn't know."

"It doesn't excuse what I said."

"No, but we were in a different place back then." He murmured, repeating my words from earlier.

The way Costa and I argued when we first met and got married was so different. We were both cruel towards each other with no other intention except to hurt the other.

Now when we bicker it's lighter and less bitter.

"We both said shit that we wouldn't say now." He still refused to meet my gaze which only showed how hard this conversation was for him. And I chose to make it worse because I'm petty like that.

"Like the number of times you threatened to kill me?" I quipped, a teasing smile tugging at my lips.

Unfortunately, one of Costa's superpowers was always being able to give a reply on the spot.

And he didn't disappoint this time.

"No, like the time I told you to be careful when you almost broke your neck at our wedding." He flashed me a smirk when I narrowed my eyes at him in annoyance.

"So you'd rather I died on our wedding day in front of all our guests?" I rose an eyebrow, referring back to the moment I almost fell while trying to get in our leaving car in my heavy wedding dress.

"Please." He scoffed, tapping the ash off his cigar. "There was hardly anyone left by the time you got yourself out the fucking church."

"That's because you left me at the altar!" I snapped, earning myself a throaty chuckle from my husband.

"And I'd happily do it again, principessa." His eyes fleetingly met mine, a smirk tugging at my lips. This time I couldn't hide the traitorous smile that broke through while I shook my head.

"You're such a dick."

"You love it." He chuckled, enjoying his cigar again.

"Please. Your dickish personality is how we ended up in this mess." I gestured to the way we were seated out on his balcony together for emphasis. "I'm sure there are a million other people you'd rather be sitting with tonight than me - your wife."

The wife that was forced upon him because he felt the need to get involved in things that didn't require his involvement.

"Like who?" He rose an eyebrow at me, curiosity lacing his tone.

"I don't know. Maybe your brothers, the twins, your friends or even some other woman." I shrugged, fiddling with the silver engagement ring that Damian gave me.

"Actually, no." He shook his head.

"You wouldn't want to sit with any of those people?" I frowned. Surely he'd choose his equally dickish brothers over me.

"No." He paused and then released a sigh. "I usually spend this night alone."

"How many years has it been?" I was tentative when I asked only because I know how sensitive this topic is.

"Five today. She was killed in an assassination attack."

"By who?" My question lingered in the air for a moment while he took another hit of his cigar.

"The Bratva." He spoke through the smoke in his mouth.

"Wait, Viktor Kozlov? He killed your mother?"

I always knew he was a dick.

"No, his father did."

Oh. Well, Viktor is still a dick.

It was all starting to click into place - so many of the questions that had bugged me since we met. The reason Costa hated Viktor Kozlov so much was because of his mother.

"So that's why you hate him so much." I spoke out loud. "That's what fuelled your desperate attempt to stop him from allying with my family?"

My mention of his plan to ruin my potential marriage had something strange flashing in his eyes. If I had to pin point it, I'd say he was conflicted - for a reason unbeknownst to me.

He frowned and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but he stopped himself. Instead he cleared his throat, nodding his head.

"Sì. That's why it's so personal between our families. But there's also the fact we could never allow the Bratva to form an alliance in the Mediterranean. It's not good for our future."

"I get that. But, really, you didn't need to go to such lengths to stop me marrying him. You should have just spoken to us, or even me on my own. If you'd explained why Kozlov is such a psycho, I would have listened." I gave him a soft smile, but I was only met with the same expression as before.

He was conflicted.

"Millie...I..." He faltered for a moment, clearly having an internal battle. "I...uh- I shouldn't have-"

"Sent me sick gifts and then paid a psychotic woman to throw champagne on me?" I grinned, realising it was the apology that was causing his weird behaviour.

He's never been one to apologise.

"You're smiling...Why?" He frowned, inhaling his cigar again.

"It's like you said, we're in a different place now. Plus, you saved me from being married to that man. I might hate you too for what you did to me, but I'd choose you over Kozlov any day." I shrugged, leaning back into the cushions of the couch.

"Is that a compliment, principessa?" He didn't smirk this time, but I could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Take it how you want to. We already know your ego is big enough." I waved him off, looking out at the view of the garden again. It was such a peaceful place to sit, especially to have a conversation in the evening.

It's just, Costa and I weren't that couple. We didn't sit together and chat. This was one of the rare occasions where we were.

My eyes were fixated on the fountain gently flowing in the distance when Costa spoke up again.

"My mother would have liked you."

And if there ever was a compliment from Costa, that would have been it.

I was too dumbfounded to respond, but I didn't need to. He continued speaking before I could.

"She was a lot like you. She didn't care what people thought, she'd just say whatever came to her mind. She was fiery and kind of crazy, yet she had this soft side she only showed to the people closest to her."

Is that what he thinks of me?

"She was perfect in every way." His voice dropped to a whisper, his green eyes never leaving mine.

The tension was so thick between us, yet I couldn't bring myself to look away.

"I would have loved to meet her." I smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear when the breeze picked up around us.

He didn't say anything to that, he only nodded, finally putting out his cigar. With a deep breath he stood to his feet, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and his glass.

He was halfway to the balcony doors when I spoke, causing him to come to a stop.

"And for what it's worth, I was wrong that day when we met in New York." I also got up, grabbing the ashtray which needed to be emptied - something my husband never does.

He didn't turn around, only pausing as I passed him to head inside.

"She would be extremely proud of who you are and the man you've become."

I love this moment between them 🤍 What did you think of this chapter?

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