14. Nearing the Edge
Chapter 14
Nearing the Edge
It took me longer to fall asleep last night than I'd care to admit. With the covers pulled up to my chin, anticipation rose in my chest as I waited for Milo to come into my room and slither under the silk lavender sheets.
I wanted him to take me, do unspeakable things to my willing body, show me just how powerful he can be. I wanted him to corrupt me, destroy me, put us both out of our goddamn fucking misery.
But he didn't. He never came.
Bastard.
It would seem that we're at a stalemate, neither of us willing to admit defeat, to give in to temptation, to lose.
Well, that will change... today . I'm sure of it.
After spending the afternoon gallivanting through Monaco with Julia, I've come to realize that she and Milo have more in common than I originally thought; they both don't take no for an answer and they both have very expensive taste.
I know that a child's fourth birthday party is not the ideal occasion to try out seduction techniques, but the dress Julia forced me to buy yesterday might just drive Milo over the edge.
The mauve long-sleeved mini-dress features a deep V, a knotted neckline, and an overlap-style hem that showcases a high leg slit. It’s not a garment I would personally consider appropriate for such an event, but if Julia has no qualms, I say eat your heart out Mr. Di Vaio.
My only hesitation with wearing something so skimpy before 7 p.m. is that Julia informed me their mother would be returning from Paris today for the festivities.
Do I want an ex-mafia queen's first impression of me to be that I'm a tramp? No, of course not. But after getting a glimpse at what Julia herself is wearing, I think I'm dressed quite modestly, well, aside from my spilling breasts.
When my chestnut brown hair is perfectly curled into large cascading ringlets and I've coated the last of my lashes with charcoal mascara, I complete the mirage with a single spurt of Coco Mademoiselle.
I've got to cover all the senses if I'm going to bring Goliath down.
Julia greets me at the bottom of the spiral staircase, and we make our way to the gardens at the back of the estate. As we pass the many unfamiliar faces, the vibrant scent of roses engulfs my lungs.
"That dress! It's amazing on you. I have such good taste, no?!" Julia gushes, picking up a glass of champagne from the floating servers.
"It's a little revealing…” I peer down at my chest, making sure everything is still in place. This is my first-time using tape to secure the ladies in place. Julia has lots of tape.
"God gave women breasts for two reasons, Kiara," Julia muses as we push through the guests toward the high-top tables scattered across the trimmed green grass. "To feed our children and to wear slutty dresses."
"True," I stifle a laugh.
Surveying the crowd for Milo, I admire the muted string lights laced tree to tree, the whimsical slides, bouncy castles, and balloons filling the garden. My birthdays have never been this glamorous.
My gaze lands on the tiny white benches set up next to a rose floral backdrop with 'Buon compleanno, Natalia' written across the top with shimmering gold cut-out letters. Giggles stream from the benches, a handful of children decorating tiaras; gems, glitters, and glue spread across the table.
"Who are all these people?" I ask, taking a sip of bubbly. The only faces I recognize are Milo's associates— Mateo, Gio, Marchello, a few others. "Are they friends of the family ?"
"No, thank God.” Julia snatches an hors d'oeuvre off a passing plate and shoves it into her mouth, releasing a small moan of satisfaction. "These are mostly our friends and their children. Obviously, they are unaware of who we are, so please?—"
I wave her off immediately. "Oh, don't worry about it. My lips are sealed. Milo has hammered home the importance of discretion more than once. I value my life more than I value gossip."
Julia rolls her eyes. "Milo has never hurt a woman before. I doubt he will start now. He is like a Rottweiler, barks and growls, but if you throw him a bone he'll go away."
I set my drink on the table. “Yeah? What's his version of a bone? This information might be of some use in the future."
Julia flips her blonde hair over her shoulder, casting me a knowing grin. "He is a man, Kiara. Unfortunately, his bone is a bone ."
"I figured," I sigh, hoping I'd get a different answer. This really is the only card I hold. So annoying. "There's nothing else?"
Julia purses her lips. "I love my brother but even I don't know him that well. But whenever he used to get upset with—" she freezes, wincing before recovering quickly, "A Gurkha Black Dragon cigar calms him down. It's a Milo sedative. I actually have a carton I can give you."
"Thanks…” I narrow eyes suspiciously. "Who were you talking about?"
“Hmm?” Julia blinks. A horrible actress, really.
"You said he used to get upset with someone? Who?"
Julia's lips stretch into an apologetic smile. "I am sorry, cara . It is not my place to say. Milo, he—he will tell you when he is ready, if he ever is."
My mind runs wild with theories. Wife? Girlfriend? Cousin? Friend? Who is this person? Why the hell is everyone so afraid to mention her? Or maybe it's a him . A boyfriend?
Husband?!
"Relax, Kiara," Julia says, catching my perplexed expression. "It is in the past."
"Okay.”
Julia's face lights up as she peers over my shoulder. " Mamma !"
Shit.
Turning around, my gaze lands on an older woman in her late fifties, her jet-black hair pinned up. She’s wearing a gorgeous figure-hugging emerald gown with golden embellishments. She links her arm through Milo's as they approach our table .
I blink, mesmerized by the beauty of their mother. Her sharp dark features, rouged cheeks, and plump lips make me feel slightly insecure. She looks like Sophia Loren – classy, elegant, graceful.
And Milo. Well—he looks like the devil, a sinful masterpiece wrapped in couture and strapped with a Beretta; tantalizing, refined, deadly .
"Mamma, how was Paris ?" Julia asks, giving her mother two kisses as they pause in front of us. A tingle of nervousness pricks at my fingertips.
"Crowded.” Her mother eyes me carefully, her expression neutral, unreadable, like she's had practice disguising her emotions. Years of practice.
"Mamma, this is Kiara," Milo says, gesturing toward me. His gaze pauses briefly on my chest. His tongue darts out of his mouth and wets his lower lip. So far, I’d say the dress is working. Milo clears his throat. "Kiara, this is my mother, Antonia."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Antonia," I say, smiling through the anxiety.
The ex-mafia queen is silent for a beat before taking a dainty step forward. She leans forward and presses her cheek against mine as she graces me with kisses.
"The pleasure is all mine, Kiara," she says. "My family owes you a great debt."
" Mamma— " Milo begins to say but his mother holds up an authoritative hand.
"Quiet," she says, trapping me in her serious gaze. "If it were not for this girl, I would have lost two sons this year, Emilio! You need to acknowledge that or else you are a fool."
The atmosphere around us drastically changes as Milo swallows, softly stating, "I am aware of the gravity of the situation, Mamma, and I will ensure that Sergio's death will not have been in vain."
Antonia's head snaps at her son. "Not in vain? Greed, Emilio, that is what caused his death. I would hope you have learned from his mistakes."
" Mamma …” Julia places a careful hand on her mother's shoulder. "It is Natalia's birthday; can we please not talk about this right now? It is a happy occasion. Please?"
Antonia sucks in a small breath that relaxes her tensed features and she cranes her neck to look up at her son. Milo's pained expression sends a pang of unease to my heart.
"Julia is correct. This is a celebration. We will talk about this later," she says then faces me, tone softened, sincere. "Kiara, I thank you, as a mother. Not many people would have been as brave as you." Her attention is drawn away by Natalia's joyous laughter. "I will go see my granddaughter now."
"Yes, let's go play with Talia," Julia agrees. "Kiara, you enjoy yourself, yes? My friends are all very kind, I promise."
"I will." I nod as Antonia and Julia waltz away, leaving me with a sulking Milo. "Are you alright?" I ask him, attempting to gauge his mood.
No matter one's age, scolding from a parent is never fun, especially when the subject matter is that of your deceased sibling. My plan to seduce him might need to be put on hold until he lightens up.
"I'm fine.” Milo runs a hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath. "It is none of your concern."
"Okay.” He’s clearly quite irritable right now, and I don’t wish to provoke him even further. I eye my empty flute. He doesn't seem in a very talkative state either. "I'm uh— going to get another drink. Do you want one? "
"No.” He closes his eyes, shoulders relaxing. "I should spend time with my niece." After a beat, he asks in a warmer tone, "Would you like to join me?"
I contemplate his invitation, nibbling on my bottom lip. I don't want to insert myself into his family bonding time. He's mentioned he doesn't get to see Natalia often.
"I'll find you in a bit. Go be with your family."
"Alright.” Milo nods, not pushing me to come with him. "Will you be okay by yourself?"
I cast him a weak smile. "Yes, I'm used to it."
Milo tilts his head. "Kiara..."
"Go," I say, forcing a bigger smile. "I'm fine."
He hesitates for a second before striding toward the arts and crafts area. I purse my lips, looking around at all the strangers surrounding me. I don't remember the last time I've had to mingle. Back in Hawthorne, I had one friend, Noelle, who would drag me out to events and bars, but she moved away a year ago and my social life ceased to exist.
After getting another glass of wine, I saunter from group to group, like a sad little nomad, searching for a table that's discussing something I care about, something I can contribute to.
With the mix of Italian, English, and French being spoken, my brain struggles to decipher the topics being discussed, hindering my ability to choose a clique.
I walk aimlessly around the vast gardens, catching tidbits of broken conversations. Instead of partaking in a meaningless discussion with people I don't know, I chose to admire the landscaping of the estate and take solace in the time I get to spend with myself, with my own thoughts. No pandering, no fake smiles, just me.
Or so I thought.
"Kiara," Marchello's voice calls out in the distance, startling me.
"God.” I grab my chest as he emerges from the shadows of the rose bushes, cigarette in hand. "You scared me. What are you doing out here?"
"Milo doesn't let me smoke in front of the bambini .” He takes a long drag of the Marlboro red. "So, I come here."
"Oh.” At least he has some boundaries. "That's very...responsible of him."
"Yes.” He expels a hoarse cough before smiling at me. “Milo is very fond of children."
"I can tell.” He looks so natural and happy around his niece.
Marchello tosses the butt of his smoke on the ground, stomping on it with his boot. "Enjoy the party, Kiara. Try not to get too drunk. We have an important day tomorrow."
I frown. "What's tomorrow?"
Marchello chuckles, his wrinkled forehead creasing. "We are playing poker with some friends at Monte Carlo then we go to Sezza Lounge. Milo didn't tell you?"
"He doesn't tell me a lot of things.” I tap my nails against the wine glass in my hand. "Do I have to play too?"
"You will be there to listen and watch. This time maybe no cocaina , okay?"
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. "No coke, got it."
"Good.” He looks at me warily before walking away. I can't tell if he likes me or not, but I don't really care. His opinion of me is the least of my concerns.
When I've explored as much of the acreage as these stilettos will allow, I find myself approaching the white benches. Milo sits at the small table surrounded by three children, Julia and Antonia nowhere to be seen .
"Hey.” I tap his shoulder. "When were you going to tell me?—"
Milo turns his head toward me, and I burst out laughing, wine nearly spilling out of my nostrils as I take in the pink monarch butterfly painted on his cheek. "Oh my God. Wow."
Milo grimaces. "Do not say a word, Kiara."
I press my lips into a thin line, suppressing a stream of chuckles. "It's a good look on you. Very... colorful ."
"My niece," he sighs. "She is very convincing."
"Kiki!" Natalia coos, jumping out of her seat. She runs toward me and grabs hold of my hand. "Come bounce with me." She latches onto Milo's hand as well. "Let's go now, okay?"
I blink, my gaze darting to the inflatable castle in the distance and then down to my chest.
"Bounce?"
Milo stands up, a smug smirk on his face. I would think that a man with a pink insect painted on his cheek would lose some of his sex appeal but he's just as attractive, perhaps slightly less scary, but attractive.
"Kiara would love to bounce with you, Talia," Milo says as his niece drags us to the castle. He lowers his voice so only I can hear him, "Perhaps it is my birthday today as well."
I roll my eyes as the attendant tells us to take off our shoes.
"I would think this would be more of a punishment than a gift.”
We climb into the wobbly purple interior, the trapped heat instantly boiling my skin as Natalia and two of her friends begin prancing around us. Our bodies teeter up and down from the motion .
Milo frowns, realization dawning on him as I bend my knees and start jumping. I keep my gaze locked on his darkening eyes as gravity becomes my best fucking friend.
Oh. Yes. Definitely a punishment.
"You not bouncing!" Natalia shouts at her uncle. "Zio! Bounce."
Milo shoots his niece a warm smile laced with undertones of annoyance as he matches my rhythm.
"You are an evil woman," he says, my heart rate climbing from the repetitive jumps. "This is worse than torture."
I smirk, pleased that he's suffering. "Maybe you should close your eyes. Ease the pain."
Milo's expression hardens. "I never believed in nominative determinism until I met you, Kiara. But it seems as though your only job is to cause me great pain."
His breadth of knowledge impresses me. “Funny. Maybe you're right."
"I am seldom wrong," he says as Natalia grabs his hand and pulls him away from me, forcing him to jump around in a circle with her and her friends.
I'm sure Milo's niece would've stayed in the bouncy castle all night long if she could, so when Julia hollers into the tent, saying it's time for cake, I'm relieved to finally get out of this sweat infused sauna.
All the guests crowd around the head table, smiling and clapping as Natalia blows out her candles, the smoke floating up into the star-infested sky. The night wraps up shortly after Natalia opens all her lavish gifts: luxury electric toy cars, jewelry, life-sized stuffed animals.
"Natalia," Julia begins, looking down at her sleepy daughter as the guests trickle out of the gardens. "It is time for bed now. Do you want to walk to your room, or do you want me to carry you? "
"Carry," Talia yawns, holding up her arms.
I blink, surprised that she didn't protest. "You're good.”
"Psychology, cara ," she whispers, lifting her child into her arms. "Useful in many respects."
"Milo told me you're a psychologist.” I follow Julia up the stairs to Natalia's bedroom. "What made you choose that field?"
Julia pushes the hair out of her daughter's face, Natalia's eyes closing. She's a trooper for staying up this late.
"I wanted to help people. When you're raised in a family like mine, it is hard to see the good sometimes. I just wanted to do something that might balance all the evil."
"Do you practice?" I ask in a quiet tone as we enter Talia's room. She wasn't lying. Everything is pink. Julia lays her daughter on the bed, draping the princess comforter on top of her tiny snoozing body.
"I have a couple of patients.” She presses a kiss on Natalia's forehead. "It is not a full-time job but it's rewarding."
"I think that's very admirable.” Julia flicks off the lights and slowly shuts the bedroom door. She clearly doesn't need to work yet she does.
Julia smiles, suppressing a yawn. "Thank you, Kiara. I think I will go to sleep now. Too much champagne."
"Goodnight, Julia," I say as she gives me a parting hug.
I guess I'll go to sleep too.
Climbing the stairs to the top floor of the estate, I round the corner and head down the hallway. Just as I'm about to reach my room, Milo emerges from the powder room, the butterfly on his cheek washed away, reverting him back to his old dangerous self.
"Hi," I whisper, lingering in the middle of the dimly lit hallway. My nerve endings buzz at the sight of the gorgeous man in front of me. "You disappeared."
Milo stalks toward me, spearing me with his sharp gaze. Chaos stirs in my chest as he gets closer and closer and closer—until he's too close.
Much too close.
"Were you looking for me?" His merciless gaze sweeps across my face and outlines the curves of my body. Flushed. I feel so damn flushed. “Did you miss me, perhaps?”
"No…” My chest rises from the malignant desire bubbling in my blood.
Milo lifts his hand up to my cheek, his long fingers tracing down the slope of my neck, down my collarbone, my chest, over the heaving swells of my breasts.
"There are sculptors around the world, Kiara," he rasps, his fingers stopping at my nipples, circling the stiff, desperate peaks. "That would die a thousand deaths just to have you as their muse."
I bite my lip as he continues his tortuous ministrations. "Any of them in Monaco? Maybe I'll reach out to a few. I seem to have a lot of free time these days."
Milo's dark eyes narrow in controlled frustration as he drops his hand, leaving me longing for his touch. "I can think of several ways in which we can fill your empty days.” His voice is low, gruff, infuriatingly seductive. "All you have to do is ask."
"Is that what you want, Mr. Di Vaio? To fill my... days ?"
"Kiara…” He drags his rough thumb across my parted bottom lip, his muscles tensed, full of restraint. "It is what you want as well. Come to me, bella . I will make you feel so full. "
My insides constrict with debilitating need as I place a covetous hand on his chest, my conflicted heart thrumming between my lungs, lust and logic jousting for reign in my mind.
I trail my fingers down the length of his suit, my lips parted, parched, as I look up at him. “If you want me, you know where to find me."
Milo coils his fingers around my wrist, holding me with a firm grip, his gaze glinting with violent hunger.
"Why must you be so difficult, Kiara? This is a war you will never win."
With subtle defiance, I arch into Milo's chest, melding my body against his, his semi-hard-on pushing against my core.
"That seems uncomfortable.” I rock my hips in tiny circles, the friction inching me closer to surrender. "If only there was a way to remedy your unfortunate situation."
"You will break, Kiara," he growls, his jaw twitching. He takes a step back, a guttural groan escaping the back of his throat, his expression glowing with disdain, torture . " I will break you."
"I'm already broken, Mr. Di Vaio," I whisper, my stubborn resolve almost melting. Almost . "Yet here we are."
"No, Kiara, you are simply bent. But when I'm done with you, you will be shattered, broken beyond all recognition."
"I'm not fragile like glass, Mr. Di Vaio,” My pulse quickens, "I'm fragile like a bomb."
"In that case," he smirks, turning on his heel. "I can't wait to make you explode."
"Me too.”
Me fucking too.