Milo

13. Thicker Than Water

Chapter 13

Thicker Than Water

"Kiara, wake up.” Milo's smoky voice fills my ears, his hand rattling my shoulder. "Kiara."

My eyelids flutter open, my neck slightly sore. "What?" I croak, my vision adjusting to the late autumn sun beaming through the window. "We're here already?"

"I truly marvel at your ability to fall asleep so easily," Milo notes, getting out of the SUV.

"Well, I wouldn't be so tired if you didn't force me to wake up at 7 a.m. and then make me wait four hours before we even left the tarmac.”

I look around, the picturesque beauty of Monaco instantly zapping me awake. The scent of the ocean fills my lungs as I take in the lush palm trees, the meticulously trimmed hedges, the narrow coastal skylines, and the sharp colossal mountains that surround us.

"You seem agitated, Kiara.” His top lip curls up into a smirk as he offers me his hand. "Perhaps next time I will wake you with a kiss."

I narrow my eyes at him as I slip out of the car, ignoring his assistance. "I'm fairly certain that if Aurora was a modern-day princess, she'd sue the shit out of Prince Phillip for sexual harassment.”

Milo chuckles. "It is a risk I am willing to take."

"A gambler, I see.”

"Naturally.” Milo gestures down the sandy stone path that leads to an idyllic villa several stories high. "This way."

"Where are Marchello and the others?" I ask, craning my neck over my shoulder. Gio and Mateo trail behind us, luggage in hand. We walk up the steps toward the estate, the Belle époque influenced architecture simply breathtaking.

"They are staying at a hotel.” Milo pauses in front of the peach-colored double doors with golden accents on the trim. "My sister cannot accommodate everyone."

"Really?" I hum as he rings the doorbell situated inside a wooden carving of a lion's mouth. I tilt my head back to survey the grand villa. " Looks big enough."

Milo expels a low chuckle. "Let me rephrase. She does not wish to accommodate everyone."

"Is she not a fan of your... friends ?"

"Not entirely," Milo confesses, knocking on the door.

So impatient.

"I like her already.”

The front door swings open. An adorable blonde child wearing a pink tutu and a sparkling crown grins up at us. Are those real diamonds?

" Zio!" She waves her arms in the air. " Zio !"

Uncle?

Milo swoops his apparent niece into his arms, the uninhibited smile plastered across his face throwing me off.

" Principessa Natalia .” He adjusts her falling tiara. "Why are you opening doors? Didn't mamma tell you it's not safe?" He pinches her rosy cheek. "I could have been a monster . "

Natalia giggles, squirming in Milo's embrace, her chubby face scrunching up. "Monster’s not real. And my mamma say I can open the door."

"She did ?" Milo gasps, his tone light, playful, happy .

Who is this man?

Milo's niece nods her head feverishly before snapping her round eyes over his shoulder, looking at me with a curious gaze. "Who are you? Why you here?"

I stifle a laugh. Adorable and blunt.

"I'm Kiara.” Milo leads us into the home, the colorful aesthetic of the estate a stark contrast to his Ligurian property. "I'm your uncle's uh?—"

"Kiara is my friend," Milo chimes in, setting Natalia on the ground as Gio places our suitcases against the coral walls of the foyer. "She's here for your party."

Party? There's a party? I'm always left in the dark. Always.

Natalia blinks as she stares at me. I swear she's judging me right now. The little girl pushes her lips into a pout as she crosses her arms.

"You pretty.”

In my peripheral, I catch Milo rolling his eyes.

"Awe, thank you," I reply to Natalia, subtly tossing Milo a boastful scowl. "You're pretty too."

"Oh, I know," Natalia says with absolute certainty as she taps her ballet slipper on the ground. "What's your favorite color?"

Milo crosses his arms, sidling up next to Natalia, mimicking her diva stance. "Yes, Kiara," he says playfully, “what is your favorite color?"

I bite my lip, my gaze fluttering across Natalia's costume. "Pink?"

Natalia's eyes widen, her tiny body about to explode from glee. "Me too!" She jumps up and down. "I love pink! I have pink shoes and pink dresses and pink walls and pink pants and pink shirts and pink toys and pink?—"

"Basically, her entire room looks like cotton candy," a perky feminine voice with a thick Italian accent calls out from behind us. "Milo! You're here, and look, no blood on your clothes. I am so honored."

"Julia.” Milo frowns as we turn around. His sister saunters toward us wearing a flowing red sundress, her ashy blonde hair pulled up into a cascading ponytail. "Not in front of Talia. Please ."

"Go play," Julia says to her daughter who dashes out of the room without a word. So well behaved. Julia purses her lips before giving Milo a hug and two pecks on the cheek. "I see you still dress like the grim reaper. Mocking death, ah?"

"Not everyone wants to walk around looking like a rainbow, Julia," Milo grumbles as he pulls away and lethargically gestures toward me. "This is Kiara, she's?—"

Julia grins, opening her arms. "The woman who saved your ass from the Russians, of course!” She plants kisses on both of my cheeks. "Welcome to Monaco, cara ! It is so nice to finally meet you." She holds me at arm's length, giving me a once-over. "Well, now I know why my idiot brother didn't kill you. Bellissima !"

"Oh, thank you," I hum, slightly taken aback by her friendliness and the fact Milo's already told her about me. “It's nice to uh—meet you too."

"Let's go and have some drinks, yeah?" Julia’s gaze snaps over to Gio and Mateo who've been silently creeping in the background. She glares at the two guards, crossing her arms under her generous chest. "Smile for fucks sake, you're in Monaco! Why you look so sad?"

Milo closes his eyes, letting out a sigh. "Julia, please?— "

"What? They are standing there like two brick walls!" She tosses them a scowl. "Do you walls want a drink or?"

Gio's head snaps to Milo for approval and Julia slaps her hands against her thighs, mumbling in Italian under her breath. "You have them trained better than papa . Do they need to ask your permission to take a shit as well?"

Milo sucks in a deep breath, keeping his composure in check despite the fact there's a very large vein popping out of his forehead.

"Oh, relax, little brother.” She expels a dramatic sigh. "I was joking." She casts me a side-eye. "He is so sensitive sometimes, no?"

"Sometimes," I grin as Julia loops her arm through mine.

" Fucking women ," Milo murmurs under his breath and trudges behind us as we step onto the terrace that overlooks the white sand and glistening teal ocean of Lorvotta beach.

"Paolo! Baby! Look who's here!" Julia sings, addressing a man who's sitting on a contemporary grey sectional at the far end of the patio.

"Milo!" Paolo adjusts his light linen attire before standing up. He holds out his hand. "It's been too long. How are you?"

"Alive," Milo chuckles, shaking Paolo's hand. The two men grin at each other as if they're in on the same secret.

"Poor bastard," Paolo laughs, gesturing for us to take a seat. "He was a moron, even as a child."

"If only he outgrew it," Milo states as a young man carrying a tray of cocktails approaches us. Milo picks up two glasses and hands me one, nodding at the server. " Grazie ." His attention shifts back to Paolo. "This is Kiara, Kiara this is Paolo, Julia's husband and my?—"

" Business partner ?" I tilt my head and take a sip of the sweetest cocktail I've ever tried. Holy hell .

Julia claps her hands, a boisterous laugh escaping her red lips. "She's a quick learner, I love it."

"Yes," Milo says flatly. “It is truly a gift."

" Allora , Kiara," Paolo begins, reclining against the plush throw pillows on the sofa. "How is it working for Milo? Is he treating you right? This man, he is a bit—" He pauses. " Temperamental ."

Temperamental? That's putting it lightly. Milo is arrogant, callous, infuriating, stubborn, but fuck—he's the most alluring man I've ever met.

Even now, sitting six inches away, all I want to do is fist his goddamn shirt, pry his full lips open with my tongue, anger him, feel his fingers coiled around my neck, show him exactly how obedient I can be.

But of course, I don't.

"Well, he hasn't killed me yet…” I dismiss the treacherous thoughts out of my head. "So, I guess... so far so good."

Paolo laughs. "That is a very good attitude to have, Kiara. Very positive."

Milo snorts, stating in a sardonic tone, "Don't let that smile fool you, Paolo. She is as positive as an electron."

I shoot Milo a glare. "I think under the circumstances , I'm pretty fucking positive. Don't you think?"

"Circumstances can change , Kiara," Milo says, a raspy timbre in his voice. "Don't forget that."

Julia expels a sigh. "Please, Milo, do not threaten young women in my house. So fucking rude!"

Milo closes his eyes, his body language stiff, annoyed. "I was not?—"

"Enough from you,” Julia says, waving him off. Milo reluctantly stops talking. Fuck Cleopatra. Next time I'll channel Julia. "I'd like to learn more about Kiara. Milo said you speak seven languages, yes? "

"Mhmm."

"Fascinating," Julia gawks, resting her chin on her palm as she leans over her crossed legs. "And you're how old?"

"Twenty-three.”

Julia pouts. "So young." She tilts her head to her husband. "Do you remember when I was that young? Do you miss it?"

"Oh, I remember.” Paolo wiggles his groomed brows. "But you are like wine, baby, every year more delicious."

Julia tosses her husband a flirty wink. "Ti amo, Paolo. You are too sweet."

"How did the two of you meet?" Maybe they'll be more forthcoming than my brooding travel companion.

Paolo sets his drink on the oval woven table. "We met when we were kids, our families they—" He mulls it over. " Worked together ."

Julia clicks her tongue, expelling a scoff. "She is a smart girl, Paolo, she knows what that means. Just say it for fuck sakes."

"Milo?" Paolo asks. "Do we trust her?"

"No.” Milo shifts his body, draping his arm over the sofa, the taut muscles under his dress shirt flexing as he stretches. He licks his lips, his gaze combative. "But I suppose there is no harm in telling her the history of Santi Oscuri ."

Progress. I'll take it.

"If you say so," Paolo hums, uncertainty dancing around his features.

I listen attentively as Paolo discloses how Santi Oscuri came to be. Apparently, in the '70s Italy was primarily ruled by two mafias, the Di Vaio family and the Casellati family. After decades of bloodshed, wars, and deaths, the two Dons, Milo and Paolo's fathers grew tired of the feud and agreed to blend the families, ensuring total domination over the entire country.

With caveats. Obviously.

"So, you were forced to marry each other?" I ask, sipping on my second cocktail. "And you were okay with that?"

"Of course not!" Julia says. "I was furious with papa when he told me. Sergio, our brother—" She pauses, swallowing as Milo tenses beside me and winces at the sound of his deceased brother's name. "He um... he was supposed to wed the oldest Casellati daughter, but she got pregnant from another man and the entire arrangement fell apart."

"I only have one sister," Paolo elaborates. "When that didn't work out, well—here we are."

I purse my lips, processing all this new information. They were forced to marry yet...

"But you seem so happy together.”

"It took time, Kiara," Julia says. “We had to learn to love each other and set limits."

"Limits?"

"Yes," Julia says, downing her drink. "For example, Paolo and I do not ever talk business . Ever. It's not allowed."

I blink. "You don't?"

"No, I don't want to know all that crazy shit," Julia says. "It causes me a headache."

"Don't you get curious?" I ask, thinking out loud.

Julia shrugs. "No, I don't care. Paolo and I, we do three things."

"Julia..." Milo hums, his voice strained, pleading. "Please."

"What do you do?" I ask tentatively. Milo drags his hand down his face as if he knows what's coming.

Julia smirks. "We fuck, we fight, and we eat."

" Allora —" Milo claps his hands, standing up, clearly not happy to hear about his sister's sexual escapades. "I think it is time for Paolo and me to talk business... inside ."

Julia sighs dramatically. "Such a prude.”

I snort, choking on my drink. A prude? Now that is one word, I would never use to describe him.

Milo snaps his mischievous eyes at me. "Something to say, Kiara?"

I press my lips into a thin line. "Nope," I peep as Paolo joins Milo's side. "Nothing at all."

"We will go too," Julia says to her husband as they make their way back inside. "I will give Kiara the tour and show her the bedrooms." She winks at me. "Don't worry, you get your own."

"Oh, good…” A slight wave of disappointment washes over me as I polish off my drink.

Milo lingers by the French doors waiting for me, his arms crossed over his chest. He leans against the frame, his lithe silhouette drawing me closer, pulling me toward him.

"It seems as though my sister has taken quite the liking to you."

"The feeling is mutual.” I pause a couple of inches away from him, afraid to get any closer. "Honestly, it's hard to believe that the two of you are related. She's very?—"

"Loud?"

"No…” I cock my head. "I was going to say pleasant ."

"And I am not pleasant?" He takes a stride toward me, closing the distance between us. His hand curls under my chin as he asks, his voice low, husky, debilitating, "Do you not enjoy my company, Kiara?"

"Do you enjoy mine ?" I raise a brow, my pulse quickening from his faint touch.

"Yes," he whispers, the scent of tropical fruits escaping his mouth as he leans into my ear. "Especially when you are asleep ."

"Good thing we're in different rooms.” I meet his suggestive gaze. "I guess you'll have to find yourself another sleeping beauty."

Milo chuckles. "There are no locks on the doors, Kiara. Keep that in mind."

My chest rises, the alcohol from the cocktails hindering rational thought, making his acute observation moderately enticing. "Do you plan on sneaking into my room?"

"No," he grins with wicked confidence. "You will come to mine. I guarantee it."

"I—"

"Kiara!" Julia hollers. Oh, thank God. "Where are you? I changed my mind! We're going shopping! Let's go now before the stores close! I still need to buy a dress for Talia's party."

"Go," Milo says in a defeated tone, dropping his hand as he nods down the hall. "You do not want to keep her waiting."

I readjust my purse, casting Milo a smile as I attempt to look normal, unaffected. "Maybe I'll buy some locks while I'm out."

"Are you afraid you won't be able to resist me?"

I expel a soft laugh. "The locks are for you , Mr. Di Vaio. Not for me."

"Kiara!" Julia shouts, annoyed. “ Andiamo !”

Milo is right.

His sister is loud.

...And the locks are for me.