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A picturesque scene unfolded in front of Mista’s eyes during one unassuming evening.
Trish, the girl he’d sworn to protect with all he had plus his life if required of him, had wished to view the sunset during the late summer hours at a remote look out of her choosing. It was not an unusual request by any means, the Don insisted she avoid popular tourist spots and other dense public areas on her outings. As much of an inconvenience as it was, the alternative of remaining a shut-in to the same degree as her father was, in Trish’s words “a death sentence” which resulted in this odd agreement between them.
Naturally, as her bodyguard, Mista would accompany Trish wherever she desired to see to it that she remained safe and sound whenever she was out of the Boss’s sight. An occurrence that was all the more common in recent months as young adulthood’s desire to spread her wings and test the boundaries of the cage her father crafted all those years ago. That determination of hers, the pursuit of independence, was something that Mista admired about her.
If he had met her like this a few years ago, he’d be envious. But given his current position and the time they’ve spent together, this natural progression of the shy girl who kept everyone at a distance blooming into this social butterfly who couldn’t get enough of the people around her was something to behold. There is no hesitation in Trish’s actions. She knew what she wanted and went for it, no matter the consequence.
Considering Mista’s own attitude of going with the flow of things, it worked out between the two of them that she took the lead with him as company. Rarely did they come to odds with each other when it truly mattered, and so long as Mista could predict where her next thought would take them, he was more than happy to continue on as they were. The idea of this odd friendship of theirs turning into anything deeper had crossed his mind, but circumstance would deny such daydreams.
Trish was the daughter of Passione’s Don. He was her bodyguard.
That was all there was to it.
Or so Mista thought.
It was here, on this rocky outcropping between the trees and brush that made the coast their home, that a new revelation caught him by surprise. Completely blind-siding him, forcing the young man to flash through every single interaction between Trish and he to assess where exactly he’d missed feelings pouring from Trish’s heart as she had forgone the sunset in favor of the man she shared this private moment with.
“I love you, Mista.”
A confession. So simple, so direct, Mista could only wonder how it managed to shake apart every gear inside his unprepared brain to hear something he never thought would happen within this lifetime. Aware that this window would not remain open forever, Mista scrambled himself together just enough to string a coherent sentence to answer with.
“Y-Yeah? Well, I love me too!”
DAMN IT!
“Wait! That’s not what I—What I meant—You—Love—Shit!” Mista tore his hat off, bundling it in his sweaty palms as he quickly turned away to avoid seeing the utter disgust that had to be all over Trish’s face.
Embracing for bitter backlash, Mista was surprised to hear a fit of giggling rise from the girl behind him, spiraling into a myriad of laughter that showed no signs of stopping.
“You know…” Trish had to pause, taking in a breath of air before doing her best to complete her train of thought. “Loving yourself is very important. I’m—” Another collection of stifled giggling. “—so happy for you!”
“Shut up! God, way to spring this up on a guy out of nowhere!” Mista huffed, hazarding a glance behind him to see the smile breaking out from behind the hand Trish used to cover her face.
“You are wrong about me loving shit, though. Unless that’s a nickname of yours I don’t know about.”
“No! Absolutely not! I meant to say I love you back, but now, I’m not so sure!” Crossed arms followed Mista’s teasing. This riled up enough of a reaction from Trish to get her to roll her eyes before walking over to wrap her arms around his side.
“You don’t mean it.”
A part of him wanted to continue this act a little longer, but the way Trish looked up at him with eyes filled to the brim with joy had him thinking otherwise. Not even a minute passed before Mista caved.
“I… love you too.” Mista mumbled, reciprocating the gesture by draping one of his own arms over the girl's shoulders.
“Good. I’m so glad I was reading this right or else this would have been a lot more awkward.” Her confession eased Mista’s nerves a bit. She was just as nervous as he was. Bless that initiative of hers.
“You and me? Awkward? Impossible.”
Trish drew closer. A hand sought Mista’s cheek, coaxing their lips closer while whispering in his ear, “You say that now, but wait until we have to act normal in front of my father—”
Oh, no.
Her father.
Mista’s body froze, reality crashing into this wonderful dream he’d foolishly accepted without consequence. Just as Trish was about to press a kiss on his lips, he grabbed her shoulders and swung her directed in front of him.
“Your dad is going to kill me.”
“No, he’s not!” Trish brushed his concern aside, attempting to salvage the good mood between them by curling her fingers over his hands. Her plan backfired, however, as Mista’s own anxiety regarding what her father would do to him once the Boss found out he seduced his precious daughter— His only daughter— easily won out over any reassurances Trish could give.
A history of violent and often fatal punishments that man has ordered for those responsible for wronging the organization flashed over Mista’s eyes. The rumors of his unforgiving cruelty were true. Mista had heard such orders come from the man himself and those were just to those were just those who wronged him over business.
Mista’s face paled at an alarming rate. The truth of the butterflies of joy appearing in his stomach when Trish confessed to him revealed itself to be the feeling of his soul leaving his body in fear.
“They're never going to find my body.”
“Get a hold of yourself!” Trish shouted, shaking Mista’s attention back to her. “This is what I get for bringing him up… Look, my father doesn’t have to know—”
“Oh, he does! If we don’t tell him, he’ll find out, eventually. You know he will. He always does! And then it’s not just a demotion I’m going to have to worry about!” Mista withdrew from Trish to get some air. “Way to go Mista! Falling for your employer’s daughter! Your mother warned you not to go mixing work with your personal life because this is how your body ends up at the bottom of the river!”
“Do you… not want to get together, then? If you’re that worried about his reaction…”
Mista shook his head, flailing for Trish’s hands as he hastily apologized for what his fearful rant implied. “Yes! I mean—No! No, I don’t want us to not get together—” Another deep breath was needed to calm himself down. “Trish, I care about you more than just a bodyguard should. I want to give this a shot, I really do and to do that… We need to do it right or else this relationship won’t see its one-year anniversary.”
“One-year? You’re being very generous with or ability to keep this private.” Her comment was meant to lighten the mood, prompting an exchange of smiles between them. “Ok. As much as I don’t want to in fear he’ll scare you away… we’ll tell my father about us.”
“Scare me away? I’ve worked with the man for years. As much as he rightfully terrifies me, I’m not going to back down so easily. You’re worth it.”
Trish was worth it.
Trish was absolutely worth it.
Mista repeated those words over and over in his mind as he stood alongside her in front of her father’s office. The set of double doors standing between the hall in which they stood and the room inside was more intimidating than usual. As if someone had made them taller. The way the dark wood loomed over the both of them as they argued in silence over which one should disturb the man’s work.
It was time for Mista to put his money where his mouth was.
Sucking in a hearty breath of air, Mista reached out and knocked on the door, three knocks in total with just enough force to be taken seriously.
“You may enter.”
A hint of relief flooded over the two as they turned to each other. Quickly, Trish reached out for Mista’s hand, who in return gave a light squeeze of good luck before letting go to open the doors of her father’s chamber.
The Boss had yet to look up from his work, pen still moving across the documents in his hand, even as the two stepped inside and let the door click shut behind them. There was no further effort to address them, aside from the subtle glance the man gave to assess who had entered. Enough time had passed that the air became awkward, neither sure when it was the best time to interject as the pen’s movements echoed around the room that was otherwise silent.
The anticipation became unbearable.
“Sir—”
“What have you come here during crucial hours of the day to discuss?”
A nudge was felt against Mista’s lower back as Trish pushed him to continue.
“Well,” Mista cleared his throat. Skipping the preamble, he had already concluded that there wasn’t a good way to bring up his relationship with Trish. “I came here today to ask for your permission to date your daughter.”
The Boss’s pen stopped moving.
“Come again? I believe I didn’t quite hear you.”
Firmly repeating himself, Mista declared his intentions once more.
“I came here today to ask for your permission to date your daughter, Sir.”
“That’s what I thought.” The man closed his eyes and slid his work off to the side. When everything was where he desired it, the Boss straightened himself out in his chair and crossed his fingers above his desk. A glare greeted them when his eyes reopened, fixated on Mista to an alarming degree with enough care to take note of Trish as well, with a hint of softness that disappeared with each subsequent return to her bodyguard.
To an outsider, the Boss’s rather calm reaction would have been a sign of fortune. Mista, however, did not possess the same ignorance.
“I believe your assignment was to protect her. Not to seduce her—!”
“Dad!”
“Hush darling, I am reminding this moronic Soldato his place.”
“I know what I was assigned, Sir,” Mista interjected. “And after spending so much time by her side, we’ve grown close to a point we can’t ignore it anymore. It drives me to protect her even more.”
“Unfortunately for you, that won’t be happening any longer. As of right now, I am removing you from your duties, and you are forbidden to make any further contact with Trish—”
“Wait just a minute!” Trish stepped forward and slammed her palms on the edge of her father’s desk. “I’m the one who confessed to him. I love him and if you think just separating us will change that—”
“Please. Your hormones love him. Some time apart will help you understand that you deserve much better.”
Offended, Trish gasped.
“What do I even say to that? You—I don’t want better! I want him, you overbearing jerk! I am capable of making my own decisions! You’re just lucky we didn’t elope and tell you about it after the fact.”
Ignoring the stab taken at Mista’s pride, the bodyguard couldn’t help but find a sense of joy that came from Trish’s insistence in the face of her father’s absolute authority… Did she just say elope!?
“For the record, Sir, I was firmly against initiating any sort of formal relationship without your approval.” Mista worked fast to establish any kind of positive rapport with her father. “All we want is to spend time with each other. You know, date! She’s exaggerating about jumping into marriage…”
This did not go as planned, instead drawing on the man’s ire as he shot up from his desk to scrutinize Mista’s intentions further.
“Are you not serious about dating my daughter, then? If you have no intention of marrying her, then why should I give you permission to do anything else? Is she not worthy of your lifelong companionship? Is she not good enough for you?” The Boss’s temper grew with every question, forcing Mista to brace himself if he were to survive to see the end of this meeting.
“Trish is worth the world! No, more than the world, the entire universe! I’d marry her in a heartbeat! Til death do us part and all that!” Amid his flailing to correct the man’s assumptions, Mista turned to the girl by his side. “Of course, only if you want to.”
“Aw, you’re so considerate.” Trish smiled and walked back to him, now clinging to his arm. “But I’d like to spend time dating before making marriage arrangements. That being said, I know I want a beachside wedding…”
Her shift in mood was deliberate, purposely getting on her father’s nerves while doubling down on her insistence that her feelings on the matter were genuine. They were hers and even with the threat of separation, she would plan their continued future together in defiance of his wishes.
“Enough of— this!” The Boss removed himself from his desk and used his hand to tear his daughter off Mista. “Trish, you will wait outside—”
“—But!”
—We’re going to have a talk.”
A talk.
Either that was a euphemism for murder or some progress was being made.
Mista prayed it was the latter as father and daughter stood their ground with an unfortunate bodyguard trapped between them. In the end, The Boss won out as Trish eventually relented, stepping back, but not before hugging Mista from behind as one more proverbial middle finger to her father’s opinion on the matter. Mista was grateful it was only a hug, as a kiss would have surely ended his life in this very room.
Though that remained to be seen.
Once Trish reluctantly stepped out into the hallway, another silent battle took place as the Boss motioned for her to shut the door. An order she complied without as much fuss, making sure to avoid being as gentle as she had been when entering.
Now they were alone.
Honestly, Mista didn’t know what to expect. Probably more yelling. Physical violence was definitely a possibility. But what he did not prepare for was for the man to return to the front of his desk and sigh before turning around to face Mista directly, using the table as a sort of chair to lean against as they spoke.
“What purpose do you have in courting my daughter?” The high levels of aggression had left the Boss’s voice, though his suspicion remained the same as ever. “Is it money? Are you after what she is too inherent after my time on earth is over? Or is it something shallow, such as laying with her for measly bragging rights among the other Soldato you speak to?”
“No! Sir, neither of those things!” Mista earnestly bowed his head. “I swear, your daughter is an amazing person and I would be honored to have the chance to get to know her even more. To take her anywhere that makes her smile. Seeing her happy is the most rewarding thing in the world to me. If getting together was not something she wanted, I swear I would have never forced her to agree to it.”
Unable to see her father’s reaction from his all-encompassing view of the floor, the silence Mista received enabled him to tack on one more sentiment.
“If we’re being honest, sir, I don’t think I’d be able to coerce Trish to do anything.”
“No. She gets that from her mother.” The sound of shoes against carpet indicated that the Boss was moving. “Lift your head. I don’t speak to those who obscure their faces. Only I can hold that privilege.”
Mista did as he was told, surprised to find that the Boss had returned to his seat.
The man didn’t look up as he sifted through his desk, causing Mista to hold his breath until the sight of blank papers replaced the hidden gun he imagined the man kept out of view for safety reasons. With the click of his pen, the Boss began writing a list, one Mista could not make out from the distance he was at.
“I will only approve of this in writing. Do your best to understand that doesn’t mean I find any pleasure when thinking about the prospect of my daughter dating one of my own soldatos, no less.” Mista lit up at the man’s words, leaping for joy in the confines of his mind to avoid making a greater fool of himself than the Boss already believes him to be. “My daughter is… emotionally driven, but I won’t deny what she wants. There will be stipulations for your relationship. These are non-negotiable. Am I clear?”
“Y-yes. Crystal!”
“Your relationship must not be public. I determine who is able to learn about you two and when. I will be notified by at least one of you when a ‘date’ is taking place, along with the names of all the locations you plan to visit. Detailed reports are expected, as you normally provide with your position as her bodyguard, and I continue to expect that her life will always be placed above your own.”
Mista nodded, and the man continued.
“Permission is required if you are to engage in sexual conduct with my daughter. You will be tested beforehand and protection will be required as well. No excuse you can give will validate risking a chance at getting her pregnant or ill.”
The next breath of air got caught in Mista’s throat, choking him as the Boss spoke without so much as a flinch at the topic of sex. Surely this was something you don’t bring up with your partner’s parents and yet here the man was just blatantly stating it!
“As far as marriage is concerned, there will be a prenup. Specific details on the date and venue will be Trish’s decision, and you will present yourself respectfully. There will be none of—” The Boss twirled his finger over Mista’s attire. “—This. Your actions and appearance will reflect the famiglia and I cannot have Trish marrying an embarrassment for our name.”
If it was the combination of patterns that threw the man off, there was something to be said about his hypocrisy in wearing a striped suit with a polka-dot tie. Not that Mista would say this out loud.
Overall, this was going a lot better than Mista had thought.
“I’ll have a more detailed contract for you to sign drafted by my lawyers. Oh, and one more thing.” The Boss motioned Mista to step closer, lowering his voice to a whisper with each word given enough room to breathe to avoid any sort of miscommunication between them.
“If I ever, and I mean ever, find out that you cheated on her. Let alone break that wonderful heart of hers. I promise you, Guido Mista, that your life will be the last thing you lose after I am through with you.” A sadistic smirk crawled onto the Boss’s face as Mista gulped. “You understand what I am saying, don’t you?”
“I-I do, Sir.”
“Good boy.” The man then leaned back in his seat and called out just loud enough for his voice to reach the hall outside. “Trish, retrieve your boyfriend from my office before I change my mind!”
The door flung open as Trish dashed inside, ready to fling herself against her newly approved boyfriend. Glee had her pitch increase, happily thanking her father for his permission. “Thank you so much, daddy! I love you so much!”
“I know. Now please, I have a lot of work to catch up on, thanks to your interruption. Remember what we talked about, Mista.”
Oh, Mista was going to remember this conversation in his nightmares for weeks.
But when looking down and seeing the utter joy on Trish’s face as they danced around in the hall and celebrated this victory, Mista knew Trish was worth it.