Bound To The Wrong Mafia Boss Loved By The Right Golden Boy Chapter 12
Bonus: Kieran’s POV-Ten Years
[Kieran’s POV]
The first time I saw her, she was fourteen.
Pink dress. Hair pinned up with a small butterfly clip. She was standing by the champagne table at the Southern Gala, looking completely out of place among all those old men and their fake smiles.
She didn’t belong there. She was too bright. Too real.
I watched her from across the room for an hour. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Like something inside my chest locked into place and refused to let go.
Then her bodyguard appeared at her side. She looked up at him like he hung the moon.
And I understood.
I was too late.
…
The second year, I started sending things.
Small things at first. A bracelet she mentioned wanting at an auction. A pair of earrings that matched her eyes. I never signed my name. Never left a note.
I told myself it was enough. Just knowing she had them. Just knowing she smiled when she opened that mailbox.
My Consigliere thought I’d lost my mind. “You’re the heir to the Ashford empire,” he said. “You could have any woman in the South. Why chase one who doesn’t even know your name?”
I didn’t have an answer that would make sense to him.
How do you explain that no one else existed after her?
…
Year three. Year four. Year five.
I watched from a distance as she changed.
The pink disappeared first. Then the butterfly clips. Then the smile.
She started wearing black. Red lips. Sharp edges. Like she was building armor around herself one piece at a time.
I knew why. That adopted sister of hers. And that blind fool of a bodyguard who couldn’t see what was right in front of him.
I wanted to tell her. You don’t need to change. You don’t need to hide the softness. Someone sees you. Someone has always seen you.
But I was nobody to her. Just a name at a gala she’d already forgotten.
…
Year six. I spread the rumor.
Dickless. Psychopath. Violent. Unstable.
The whole package.
It kept the other families from proposing alliances through marriage. It kept my father’s old associates from shoving their daughters at me at every gathering. It kept everyone away.
I only needed one woman. And she wasn’t available.
So I made sure no one else could take her place.
My men thought I was building a persona for intimidation. Good. Let them think that. The truth was simpler and more pathetic.
I was saving myself for a woman who didn’t know I existed.
…
Year seven. Year eight.
I wanted to kill that man. Dominic Graves.
Not as a figure of speech. I genuinely considered it. Had my men draw up plans. Studied his routine. His weaknesses.
But every time I got close to giving the order, I saw her face in my mind. The way she looked at him. If I took him from her, she’d never recover.
So I waited.
…
Year nine.
I built a path. Brick by brick.
Business deals that put the Ashfords and Sinclairs in the same room. Joint ventures that required trust. Territory negotiations that made Raymond see me as an ally rather than a rival.
Not once did I mention his daughter. Not once did I push.
I just made sure that when the day came, when she finally opened her eyes, I would be standing close enough for her to see me.
…
Year ten.
My phone rang at three in the morning.
“Mr. Ashford. Miss Sinclair wants to marry you.”
I sat up in bed. Heart pounding. Hands shaking.
“Say that again.”
“Don Sinclair called. His daughter tore up the contract with Dominic Graves this morning. She asked to marry you. He wants to discuss terms.”
I pressed the phone against my forehead and closed my eyes.
Ten years.
Ten years of watching. Waiting. Wanting.
Ten years of sending gifts she thought came from another man. Ten years of protecting her from shadows she never saw. Ten years of building an empire just so I’d be worthy of standing beside her.
And now she chose me.
I didn’t sleep that night. I drove to the dock where I knew she’d arrive and leaned against my car, rehearsing what I’d say. Changing my shirt twice. Adjusting my hair like a teenager before a first date.
When she stepped off that yacht, pale and bandaged and barely standing, I almost broke character.
I wanted to run to her. Carry her. Kill whatever hurt her.
Instead, I leaned against the Rolls-Royce and smiled.
“Hello there, my sweetest darling. My fiancée.”
She looked at me.
And for the first time in ten years, someone looked back.
[END.]