Bound To The Wrong Mafia Boss Loved By The Right Golden Boy Chapter 11
The After
Three months after Dominic’s funeral, I still couldn’t wear pink.
Not because I missed him. But because every time I reached for something that color, my hands would shake. And I hated that my body still remembered what my mind had already let go.
Kieran never asked about it. He just quietly moved every pink item out of our closet one night while he thought I was sleeping.
I wasn’t sleeping.
I watched him fold each piece carefully, put them in a box, and slide it under the bed. Not thrown away. Just put somewhere I wouldn’t have to see.
That was the kind of man he was.
…
“You’re staring at me again.” Kieran looked up from his laptop.
We were in his study. I was curled up on the leather sofa with a book I hadn’t turned a page of in twenty minutes.
“I’m not staring. I’m observing.”
“Observing what?”
“How you frown when you read contracts. It’s kinda cute.”
He shut the laptop. “Cute? The entire Southern territory is scared of me, and my wife calls me cute.”
“The entire Southern territory thinks you’re dickless. Should I tell them the truth?”
He crossed the room in three strides and leaned over me, hands on either side of my head. “Maybe you should. Let them know exactly what you deal with every night.”
I laughed. A real laugh. The kind I forgot I was capable of.
He kissed my forehead. Then my nose. Then my lips, slow and warm.
“There it is,” he murmured against my mouth. “That’s my favorite sound.”
…
Some nights were still hard.
I’d dream about blood. About the sound of a single gunshot. About lips moving with no sound.
On those nights, Kieran would pull me into his chest before I even fully woke up. His hand would press against the back of my head, holding me steady.
“I’m here. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“He never meant to hurt me.”
“I know.” His voice was always so steady. “That’s what makes it worse.”
He was right.
If Dominic had been a villain, I could have hated him cleanly. But he wasn’t. He was just a fool. A fool who loved the wrong person for ten years and only realized it when there was nothing left to save.
I used to think that was tragic.
Now I just thought it was wasteful.
…
Six months later, Kieran took me to Italy.
Not for business. Not for appearances. Just because I mentioned once, in passing, that I’d never seen the Amalfi Coast.
He booked us a villa overlooking the water. No security detail. No staff. Just us.
On the second night, we sat on the terrace with wine and silence. The kind of silence that doesn’t need filling.
“Val.”
“Mm?”
“I need to tell you something.”
I looked at him. His jaw was tight. That only happened when he was nervous.
“When you agreed to marry me,” he said slowly, “I told you I’d waited ten years.”
“I remember.”
“That wasn’t entirely accurate.”
I sat up. “What do you mean?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t just wait. I… made moves. Behind the scenes. I knew Dominic’s contract with your father would expire eventually. I made sure certain business deals went through that would put the Ashfords in a position where your father would consider an alliance.”
I stared at him.
“I’m not proud of it. But I need you to know. I didn’t just sit around hoping. I built a path to you. For years.”
The wine glass was still in my hand. I set it down carefully.
“You… manipulated my father? The Old Don?”
“I gave him opportunities that benefited both our families. I never lied to him. I never forced anything.” He met my eyes. “But I wasn’t passive either.”
Maybe I should have been angry.
But I wasn’t.
“You’re insane, Kieran.” I laughed.
“Probably.”
“You spent ten years building a business empire just to marry me?”
“Among other reasons. But yes. Primarily.”
I picked up my wine glass and took a long sip.
“Kieran.”
“Yes?”
“If you ever keep something like that from me again, I will actually use that switchblade.”
He smiled. Slow and relieved. “Noted.”
I leaned into him. His arm wrapped around me immediately. Like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there.
“For what it’s worth,” I said quietly, “I’m glad you weren’t passive.”
His arm tightened.
“For what it’s worth,” he replied, “I’d do it all again.”
…
A year after Dominic’s death, a package arrived at our door.
No return address. Just my name in handwriting I recognized.
Inside was a single turquoise pendant. Not the one Rinaldi made me. Not the one Dominic kept all those years. A new one.
Attached was a note. Dominic’s handwriting. Dated the day of the wedding.
“This one is clean. No lies attached. Wear it if you want. Throw it away if you don’t. Either way, it’s yours. It was always yours.”
I held it in my palm for a long time.
Then I put it in the box under the bed. With the pink clothes. With all the things that belonged to a version of me that no longer existed.
I closed the lid.
Kieran was waiting in the doorway. He didn’t ask what was in the package.
He just held out his hand.
I took it.
And I didn’t look back.