Milo, p.22
MILO, page 22
Please. Let it last.
"Yes," I whisper, pressing my hand against his chest, his heartbeat reverberating into my palm. "It's what I want."
"Grazie a Dio," he whispers, grazing his rough thumb along my cheek.
And I do. I thank Him for letting me find beauty in such a peculiar place.
With a smile on his face, Milo arches down, his lips melting against mine as he sucks all the oxygen out of my lungs. His touch filters away the hesitation, the doubts, the what ifs. His kiss deepens and my lungs are full again. Full of air that is pure, tender, devoted. Air that defies all logic and reason. Air that tethers us together. Air that makes me feel safe. Wanted. Cherished. Air that makes me want to keep breathing. That makes me want to keep living. Because I don't feel alone. Not now.
Not when I'm with him.
"Mmm," I hum in bliss, my hand slipping off the vanity table as Milo pulls back. Staggering to the side, I knock over a tray of jewelry. "Shit." I squat down, collecting the rings and necklaces sprawled all over the floor. I frown, tossing the last piece of jewelry into the ceramic bowl, a burst of anxiety gripping my heart. "My grandmother's locket. It's not here."
"I was hoping you wouldn't notice," Milo sighs as I stand up. "I was going to wait but—" He folds up a finger. "Give me a moment. I'll be right back."
I cast him a puzzled look. "What? Why?"
"Just stay there, Kiara," Milo says, exiting my room. "Do not move."
Crossing my arms, I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for him to return. What is he up to now?
With his hands behind his back, Milo strides toward me, a sly grin on his face. "Turn around, tesoro."
"Why?"
Milo lets out an exasperated sigh. "Kiara, please, just do as I say."
"Fine." I turn around and face the oval vanity, meeting Milo's gaze in the mirror as he dangles my nana's locket from his fingers. "I can't wear it, Milo, remember?"
"Hold up your hair, tesoro."
"Milo, I'm serious, I'll break out in hives."
He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Trust me, Kiara. You will be fine."
"I doubt it," I murmur, reluctantly pulling my hair into a bun as Milo clips the locket around my neck. When the icy metal hits my chest, I flinch, peering down at the shiny necklace. "Did you get this cleaned? It looks different."
"I had it dipped in white gold," Milo explains as I twirl the locket in my fingers.
"What?!" I spin around.
"This necklace seemed very important to you, Kiara. I wanted you to be able to wear it."
"When did you—"
"Weeks ago.”
My eyes gloss over as I clutch the locket in my fist, my grandmother's positive energy coursing through my veins. She's here. With me.
"I can't believe you did this. You—" I bite the inside of my cheek. "This is the last piece of jewelry I have from my grandmother, I had to sell everything else when she died. Milo—" Tears roll down my face. "Thank you."
He frowns, wiping away the influx of joyful tears. "You had to sell everything? I do not understand."
"When my nana died, I got a letter in the mail," I explain, swallowing back the memories. "Apparently, we were living off credit. I didn't know. She told me we were fine, that we had money, but I guess she lied or she forgot, I don't know." I expel a shaky breath. "Her mental health had been deteriorating for years, it got even worse after my grandpa passed away. I wish she told me, she said everything was fine."
Milo pulls me into his arms, resting his chin on top of my head as he consoles me. "Perhaps she did not want to trouble you, Kiara. She did not want to make you worry."
"Probably," I sniffle, nuzzling my head into his chest. "Sounds like Nana Anne."
"Do you have any more debt?" he whispers, stroking my hair. "I will pay it all."
"No." I shake my head, stifling back aching sobs. "I paid it off by selling off most of her belongings. She had a lot of vintage collections. They meant a lot to her, and I sold them. I—I sold everything."
"I'm so sorry, tesoro," Milo hums, his voice raw, gruff, full of empathy. "That must have been very difficult."
"It was.” An unfathomable longing tugs at my heart. "God, I miss her."
He rocks me back and forth. "It will get easier. It takes time, but it will get easier, I promise you."
"Yeah?" I pull back, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "How much time?"
He tucks a damp hair behind my ear as his soft eyes dance across my face. "The pain will never go away, Kiara, but you will learn to live with it. And in time, that pain will be a blessing, not a burden. It will make you stronger." I hiccup as he continues, "When a bone is broken, the place in which it heals becomes the strongest part."
"Is that why you're so strong?" I whisper. "Because you've been broken?"
"We are all broken, tesoro. Every single person. But some people ignore the pain and never heal. You must acknowledge your wounds, for they are a part of you. Forever."
"I get that—" I nod my head, taking in his wise words. "But sometimes it's easier to ignore the pain than address it."
"I know. But we must try, otherwise, we die long before we are dead."
"Wow." I sniffle, giving him a small smile. "My dad would've really liked you."
"He would?" Milo perks a brow. "Why?"
I shake my head, letting out a soft chuckle. "He was also an optimist."
"Can you please relay that message to my sister?" Milo laughs, kissing my forehead. "She is convinced I am full of negative energy. She once bought sage to cleanse my aura."
I stifle a snort. "I think an exorcism would be more fruitful."
"Is that so?" Milo casts me a playful grin. "Do you believe I am possessed?"
"Only sometimes."
"Fair…” Milo purses his lips. "I suppose life is all about balance, no?"
I let out a deep breath. “Yeah. All about balance."
After a moment of comfortable silence, Milo asks, "Do you still want to join us for dinner?"
"Yes," I state with absolute certainty. "I do."
"Alright, I will let you change." He pauses, hesitating for a second as he stares at me.
"What?"
He clears his throat. "I personally believe you look beautiful all the time; however, you might want to touch up your make-up. It is a bit smudged."
I spin around, my eyes widening as I look at my reflection. "Oh, God. I need to buy waterproof mascara."
Milo hugs me from behind. "Nonsense. I will simply have to ensure that you do not cry anymore."
I lean back into his arms. "That might be a challenge. I tend to cry a lot."
"I will fix that. No more tears, tesoro. Be happy."
“I am. I really am."
"Good." Milo kisses the top of my head. "I'll meet you in the dining room. Don't be late."
I toss him a scowl as he walks away. "I am never late."
"I know," he grins, exiting my room. "But you are so cute when you frown."
I roll my eyes, waving him off as I face the mirror. Despite the dried mascara on my cheeks and my bloodshot eyes, the woman looking back at me looks...happy.
Today I choose happiness. I get to decide how I feel. I will not be ruled by my past. I will not let the future scare me. Today I will live in the present, for it is a gift.
With one final glance at my Nana's locket, I suck in a solidifying breath and get dressed, slipping on a black cocktail dress and a pair of chunky heels. If the family is going to stare at me, I might as well give them something stunning to look at.
Twenty minutes later, I emerge in the dining room, the large banquet table covered in wine, antipasto, and rustic floral centerpieces. Milo and Paolo sit at the head of the table, Marchello, Gio, Matteo, Julia, Luisa, and a few others filling in the holes.
I smile at everyone as I straighten my shoulders and walk toward the empty chair on Milo's right. The eyes of the family follow me, quiet murmurs slipping from their tongues. I don't let their whispers faze me.
Today, I choose happiness.
"You look lovely.” Milo places his hand on my thigh as I sit down. "Would you like some wine?"
I keep my voice low as I glance around the table. "I'd like a lot of wine.”
Gio and Matteo are immersed in a deep conversation about football. Luisa and Paolo are divvying up the appetizers. Julia is grinning at me like a kid hopped up on sugar.
Oh goodness. She's way too excited.
Marchello clears his throat, drawing my attention across the table. He eyes me with a tight-lipped smile as he lifts up his glass.
"To the future," he says, nodding his head. "To Santi Oscuri."
The entire table repeats his words, toasting to the future. To the mafia. To the uncertain times ahead.
I join in.
Toasting to my future.
As a part of their world.
Chapter 28
The Curse of Cures
Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.
Red? Black? White? Lace? Satin? Charmeuse? Chiffon?
God, this is frustrating. I hate choices.
"Jules?" I call out, whipping my head around the luxury boutique. "Julia?"
"Yes, cara?!" She waltzes toward me, several shopping bags in hand. "What is it?"
I hold up two lingerie sets. The first features a sheer black Chantilly lace bra with satin bow accents, a double strapped thong, and a matching high-waisted garter belt. The second, a Bordeaux red stretch satin bra with a lace finish, a rouleaux strapped thong, and finely stitched gold clasped suspenders.
"Which is sexier?"
Julia blinks, smiling awkwardly at the sales associate behind the counter. "Kiara, I adore you, truly, I do. But I am Italian, not Targaryen. Milo is my brother; I do not wish to assist you in seducing him."
An oversight.
"Right." I wince, slowly placing the sets on the counter. "I'll take both. Grazie."
"Good choice." Julia lets out a soft laugh, spraying her wrist with sample perfume. "Always buy both, cara. Why decide when you can have everything?"
I lean against the counter as the associate scans the items. "If I follow that mindset, I'll need a bigger closet.”
Julia shrugs. "So?"
I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to Claudia who is over the moon with me right now.
"Visa, please," I say, hesitantly handing her my credit card.
I know money is not an issue but nine hundred euros? Ouch.
"These are beautiful pieces," Claudia coos with excitement as she charges me an obscene amount of money for tiny scraps of fabric. "You have a very lucky man at home. You will bring him to his knees."
"That's the plan," I whisper, hoping the said man's older sister doesn't hear me. I thank Claudia and grab the handles of the matte black shopping bag as I cast Julia a small smile. "Okay, let's go."
"Come back again anytime!" Claudia exclaims. "Anytime!"
"Oh, I just love shopping! It makes me feel like royalty," Julia laughs, looping her arm through mine as we exit the store. Gio and Matteo follow closely behind as we stroll back to the SUV. "Do you like what you bought?"
"Mhmm," I hum, cringing. "Sorry about asking for your opinion. I wasn't thinking—"
"Forget about it, cara." Julia immediately waves me off. "It's not a big deal, I was half-joking anyway. I'm sure my brother would love you in anything. I haven't seen him this happy since—" She freezes, faking a cough. "In a long time."
A tiny pang of jealousy gripping my gut. "Since Vittoria?"
He was happy with her. That shouldn't bother me. It's disgusting that it bothers me. She's dead. I'm jealous of a dead woman? That's horrible.
I'm horrible.
Julia lifts a brow. "He told you about her?"
I nod, incredibly disappointed in myself. "Yeah, when we were in Milan. He told me everything."
"Oh," she hums as we cross the street. "That's a good sign, Kiara, that he's finally talking about it. I was starting to worry about him." She sucks in a sharp breath. "Milo, he is a private man. The fact that he's sharing with you is incredible. I'm proud of him."
I'm unable to hide the smile forming on my face. "Yeah, I am too." I bite my lip, mustering up the courage to be nosy. "Did you uh—know her well? Vittoria?"
"Mmm… Not really, I only met her a handful of times. Milo had only been dating her for six months before she—" She swallows. "It wasn't very long."
"Six months?" A lot of feelings can emerge in six months. Or six weeks. Hell, six days is plenty for some people. Ask Jane Austen. "How did they meet?"
"I believe they met at a club." Julia clears her throat, averting her gaze. "She was a dancer."
I blink. "A dancer?"
Julia twists her lips as she tosses me a meek glance. "A stripper."
"A stripper?!" My eyes bug out of their sockets. "Oh, okay. That's cool. You know, I read once that stripping requires lots of training. It's like a sport, really, very athletic. There are even competitions and—"
"You're rambling, cara." Julia cocks her head to the side. "It is okay if you feel a bit uncomfortable."
"What? Me? I'm fine.” I expel a nervous laugh. "Not a big deal. Really. It's just a job." Readjusting my sweaty grip on the shopping bags, I ask, "So, uh, what was she like?"
Julia tosses me a dubious side-eye. "Why do you care, Kiara? It doesn't matter, she is not your competition."
"I know that… I just—I'm curious is all."
I don't want to push Milo into talking about her. Frankly, I don't want Milo to think about her. I want him to think about me. Only me. I want to be the first thought that crosses his mind when he wakes up and the last when he falls asleep.
Is that bad? Am I terrible for wanting that? Milo said that the pain from losing a loved one never goes away but I want his pain to go away. I want it to disappear. I want to scrub away the stain she left on his heart. I want it gone. I don't want to be a second choice. I don't want to live in her shadow.
I don't want to be a consolation prize.
Julia inhales a deep breath as Gio opens the car door for us and we slide inside. She faces me, revealing, "Vittoria was very, uh...vivacious. From what I remember she enjoyed being the center of attention, cocktails, and umm...she talked a lot. As I said, I did not know her well."
"Oh—"
"Kiara…” Julia’s tone is gentle as she places a hand on my forearm. "Do not compare yourself to her, that is the worst thing you can do. She is gone, cara. She is not a threat."
I fiddle with my fingers. "It hasn't been that long since she passed away, Julia. What if he's not over her yet? What if I'm just a distraction? A band-aid?"
"You are not a band-aid, cara.” Her raw faith punctures my self-conscious heart. "You are a cure. You are healing him; I can see it."
"Most cures have side effects.”
"That is true, but they are usually temporary. The cure, however, is permanent."
If I'm a cure, I think I need to start giving him larger, more powerful doses.
I need to pump his body full of me.
And get rid of all of her.
When Julia and I enter the estate, I catch the back of Luisa's head as she turns a corner down the hallway.
"Luisa!" I call out, grabbing her attention. She stops and circles back toward us, eyeing our shopping bags, a barely noticeable frown marring her groomed brows. "Do you know where Milo is?"
"He and my father were gone for most of the day," she says. "I think he is in his office now." She bites her lip, scanning one of my bags. "You went to Mimibella? Did you like it? It is one of my favorite boutiques. Claudia is fantastic, no?"
"She was great," I say, reading her vaguely disappointed expression. Hmm. "Did you uh—want to come with us next time?"
If I'm going to be living here for the next foreseeable future, I should try and expand my pool of confidants. Julia's not going to stay in Italy forever. Once she leaves, I'll only have Milo. He's more than enough but he's busy. A lot.
"Yes! Excellent idea!" Julia chirps, looking up from her phone. "We go again on Saturday, yes?"
"Oh," Luisa hums, crossing her arms, uncomfortably shifting her weight between both legs. "Uh—yes, that would be nice."
"Great! I can't wait," I smile, nudging my elbow against Julia's side. She's like a teenager. Always on her damn phone. "I'll see you at dinner, okay?"
"Where are you going?" she whines with an over-exaggerated pout. "I thought we could have some drinks before dinner. I can't drink alone, that is so sad. Why are you leaving me?"
"Maybe Luisa can drink with you.” I toss Julia a coy grin as I wave the Mimibella bag in the air. "I have other plans."
Julia groans. “Fine! Go! I do not need you!" A startled squeal slips past Luisa's lips as Julia latches onto her wrist. "Come with me. We drink!"
And she marches away, a squirming Luisa in tow.
I shake my head, stifling a snort as I walk to Milo's office, a burst of excitement thrumming in my veins.
We've only been apart for a few hours, yet I desperately crave to be in his presence. To be held by him. To kiss him. To simply breathe the same air.
I knock on his office door. "Hello? Milo?"
The low timbre, melodic inflections, and sultry tone of his native tongue fill my ears as I twist the handle and step inside his office.
"We do it tomorrow then, we have all that we need from him."
I bite my lip, undressing Milo with my eyes as he paces back and forth talking on the phone, his statuesque silhouette making me hot. So fucking hot. He stops, snapping his head toward me, a devilish smirk on his face.
"I will call you back, Marchello," he mutters, a wicked gleam in his irises as I stride toward him and drop the shopping bags by my feet. "It is final, Marc—"
His jaw clenches as I stop in front of him, my eager hands running over the muscular ridges of his wide shoulders. I press my body against his, my lips floating down the length of his neck.
"Get off the phone," I whisper, my fingers raking through his hair as I nip at his skin. "You can call him back."
Milo grumbles into the speaker, his voice strained as he hangs up and tosses the phone on his desk. Grabbing my waist, his lustful gaze sweeps across my face.
