Milo

31. A Grey Area

Chapter 31

A Grey Area

I've spent the last twenty-four hours thinking, reasoning, being mindful of what my heart wants, what my brain deems acceptable, and what my gut says is right. The polarizing conclusions from each internal department have left me with barely any functioning cells.

My heart is hurting, it's in pain but it misses Milo. My brain is furious with me, completely disappointed in my inability to leave, to make a damn decision. And my gut instincts are jammed, unable to send a clear signal.

What do I do? What the hell do I do?!

There is only one thing I didn't try. It's juvenile and not necessarily the best course of action, but I'm out of ideas. According to recent psychologists, Julia being one of them, pros and cons lists are often detrimental to the decision-making process as it leads to over-analyzing. Seeing as that ship sailed hours ago, I don't fucking care.

Nibbling on my bottom lip, my gaze bounces between the two columns jotted down in my notebook.

I inwardly scoff.

This is insane. If I'm basing my decision off this list, then I should leave. I should pack my bags and get out of this fucking house. I should forget about Milo. I should try to start a new life. I should leave.

That's what I should do.

But I can't.

I fucking can't.

I groan, raking my hands through my hair as a knock on the bedroom door draws my attention.

Really? Again?

"Go away, Milo!" I call out, grateful that he hasn't stormed my quarters yet. "I don't want to talk to you."

Not yet. Not when I don't know what to tell him. Marry me. Be my wife. That's his brilliant solution? How? How is that supposed to fix anything? It's like trying to mend a broken dam with a band aid. He's clearly lost his fucking mind.

I refuse to lose mine.

"It's Luisa. Can I please come in?"

What? Luisa? He sent a spy? Typical.

"Uh, sure," I say, heavy hesitation in my voice. "Come in." My brows knit together as she enters my room, her red lips twisted up with mirrored emotions. "Is something wrong?"

"No…” She slowly walks toward my bed. "Everything is fine. I just—" She clears her throat, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "I wanted to see how you're doing."

"Did Milo send you?" I narrow my eyes at her as I prop myself up against the headboard. "Because I already told him that I'll talk to him when I'm ready, and I'm not."

"No, he didn't send me," Luisa says, picking at her nails. "I came on my own."

"Oh," I hum, shifting uncomfortably. There's no trace of deception in her features, at least none that I can read. "Sorry."

"It's fine." She waves me off, looking around my room. "So, how are you doing? Last night was—" She pauses, finding the right word. "Interesting."

I expel a low scoff. "Yeah, that's one way to put it." I scan her face, attempting to gauge her intentions. "Why are you here, Luisa?"

"I—I did not know either, about Andre," Luisa reveals in a hushed tone. "I was not told that he was still alive. My father—" She shakes her head, her jaw slightly clenching. "He didn't tell me."

"If you didn't know then who knew?" I ask, setting my notebook to the side. I cross my arms. "Milo said only five people knew the truth, who were they?"

"No idea." Luisa shrugs, mild irritation flashing across her face. "You know more than I do, Kiara. Even now, they don't tell me anything."

My blood thrums.

"Why? Why does everything have to be a secret? Marchello is your dad, how does he not trust you? I get why he doesn't trust me, he doesn't really know me, but you're his daughter. That makes no sense."

"I asked him what they are planning, if I could be of help but he told me that he did not need a woman's opinion," Luisa says with a defeated chuckle. "It is always like this. They don't tell us anything." She pauses, letting out a sigh. "This is why Julia doesn't ask anymore, why she pretends she doesn't care because she knows Paolo cannot tell her anything. That he won't tell her anything."

"I wouldn't be able to live like that," I admit. "I don't know how she does it."

"Me neither. Even though I know my father will not reveal to me their plans, I still ask. And I will continue asking until one day, he tells me. And he will...I hope."

"So, you don't know anything about the feud with the Russians?" A frown mars my brows. "At all?"

"All I know is that they killed Sergio and Vittoria," she swallows. "I don't know anything after that." She doesn't know about the guns? Really? She sidles closer to me, her eyes flickering around my face. "You must understand Kiara, everything Milo and my father do is to make sure our family doesn't perish, that we remain strong. After Sergio's death, we became vulnerable, targets for the other clans. As much as I want to be involved, I understand the need for secrecy, for discretion. When he died, we became weak." She sucks in a small breath. "My father told me that weakness breeds disloyalty and distrust. I love my family, Kiara, more than I love my pride. I do not wish to see us fall."

A pang of guilt snatches my stomach. She is more in the dark than I am. Milo's told me snippets. He's told me secrets. He let me in. He trusted me more than Marchello trusted his own child.

He just didn't trust me enough.

"What's your point? Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Because," she says, running her fingers along my bedsheets. "It is something you need to bear in mind if you're going to become a part of the family. If you marry into Santi Oscuri, this is what you should expect."

I blink. "Marry? He told you?"

"Everyone knows that he asked for your hand.” A sheepish smile spreads on her face. "You were very loud last night. Sound travels."

"Lovely. That's just great."

"Kiara—" She puts her hand on my knee. “It is important for you to understand the gravity of his proposal. If you say yes, your life will change, the way people treat you will change. The way my father spoke to you last night, that would never happen again if you became Milo's wife. If he ever showed you disrespect, he would die."

I purse my lips. Is that why he asked me? So that the men in this house would respect me?

"So, the only way I can earn respect is by marrying the boss? Really? That's so backwards."

"I am not saying it is right, but it is something you should consider if you see a future with Milo. Without a ring, Kiara, in their eyes, you are meaningless."

A future.

Do I see a future? Do I see us growing old? Exploring the world? Going on adventures? Making love on every continent? Living life, together, as husband and wife?

I throw my head back, slapping my hand over my forehead, an ache pulsing in my temples. "What do you think I should do?" I can't believe I'm asking Luisa for advice. I barely even know her. Maybe I am losing my mind. "Should I say yes?"

"It is not my place to say, Kiara. But I've known Milo my whole life, he is like a brother to me. I can see how happy you make him, and happiness is so difficult to find in this life. So, if you love him, then you should say yes."

"He lied to me.” I close my eyes, a storm of uncertainty whirling around my mind. "How can I marry someone who lied to me?"

"It might not be easy, but you can try to forgive him.” The mattress bounces as she stands up. "If you wish to be with Milo, that is the only thing you can do."

"If I said yes to him, you'd be okay with that?" I tilt my head as I sit up. "Your father said I was a nobody. That doesn't bother you? "

"I know we have not been the best of friends, but I like you. I think you and I are very similar. And I believe our family would benefit from having a woman like you at the head of the table."

"A woman like me? What do you mean?"

"Kiara—" She cocks her head to the side, a small grin on her face. "You called Milo a piece of shit and a fucking asshole in front of ten armed men. Do I need to say more?"

I snort, stifling a laugh. "I was really mad."

"More women need to get mad. That is how change happens."

"You think Milo can change?"

"He already has." Luisa checks her watch. "Shit, I must go and prepare Antonia's room. She arrives in a couple of days. The woman is very particular about her thread count."

"Milo's mom is coming?" I ask, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "Why?"

"She always comes back for Christmas. It is tradition."

"Oh…” I tap my fingers against the duvet before standing up. "Do you know where Milo is right now? Is he in his office?"

"I think he is training in the gym." A beat. "Are you ready to talk to him?" she asks in a hopeful tone. "Are you going to say yes?"

"No." I expel a deep, stabilizing breath as I grab a cardigan off a chair and slip it on. "I'm not going to answer his question until he answers mine."

Luisa quirks up an eyebrow. "What question?"

"I have many."

Musky odor permeates the air as I enter the gym. Scanning the room, my gaze lands on Milo who's in the far corner, throwing calculated jabs at a red and black punching bag, all the muscles in his torso, shoulders, forearms contracting with every swing.

I swallow. Nope. Dismiss.

As if sensing my presence, his eyes land on mine as I walk toward him. "Kiara," Milo pants, grabbing a white towel off the floor. He drags it across his sweaty forehead. "What are you?—"

"I'm ready to talk.” I cross my arms, keeping my posture straight, confident. "Are you free?"

"Of course.” He tosses on a light grey t-shirt, much to my disappointment. "Would you like to go to my office?"

"Nope, here is fine." I turn around, raising my voice so that all the men at various workout stations can hear me. "Hey! Can we please have the room?" Nothing. No acknowledgment. I clap my hands. "Hello?" A few heads turn to face me. "Leave, please." Four sets of eyes glance over my shoulder toward Milo. "Oh, my God!" I whip my head around. "Tell your sheep to fuck off."

"Sheep?" Milo attempts to suppress a grin as he joins my side. " Ascolta !" His baritone voice echoing off the walls. " Tutti se ne vanno. Adesso ."

"Unbelievable," I mutter as the room empties in seconds. "It's like you have them programmed."

"They will listen to you, tesoro, give it time. Once we are wed, you will have control."

The audacity.

"Don't get ahead of yourself.” I glare at him, taking a seat on a bench press. "I didn't say yes." I point to an adjacent bench. "Sit."

"Oh." His face falls as he slowly sits down. In a low, gruff tone he says, "You are here to tell me you are leaving then."

"No."

"No?" A gleam of puzzled hope flashes across his features. "You will stay?"

"I haven't decided yet. First, I need you to answer a few questions."

"Questions?"

"Yes."

"Okay.” He rubs his hands together. "What do you want to know?"

Milo stays quiet as I organize my thoughts. I can't live like Julia. I don't want to be bitter like Luisa. I need answers. If I'm going to forgive Milo, if I'm going to look past his transgressions, then I need to know the who, what, why, where, and how.

And if he can't give that to me... I will leave.

"You said only five people knew Andre is still alive, who are they?"

"Me, Marchello, Paolo, Henri, and Antoine," he replies without missing a beat. "And Teresa, technically." I blink, taken aback. "I told you, Kiara. I will no longer lie to you."

I ignore the latter of his reply, I ignore the soft thumping of my heart. I ignore it all.

"Henri and Antoine know? Why?"

Again, no hesitation.

"If Igor believed that we killed his cousin, there would be a bloodbath and if he knew that Andre was alive and being held captive, none of the information he'd give us would be valuable, they would alter their operations. In order to avoid both of those circumstances, Henri and Antoine helped us fake his death. Drinking and driving. They used a cadaver, the car exploded. No evidence, no body."

"Smart.” That's why it's been so eerily quiet these past few weeks. "That was a good plan."

"Yes.” A small proud smile clips his lips. "It worked. They do not know we have him."

Him .

I shudder, pressing on. "You've been torturing Andre." It's not a question. "For what?"

"Many things."

"Such as?"

Milo expels a sigh. "For the location of their safehouse, the whereabouts of Igor, names of suppliers, contacts, affiliates."

"What's your endgame?"

"To take Moscow away from Pravda ."

"Too vague. I need details."

Milo closes his eyes. "It is dangerous, Kiara. I do not?—"

"Tell me or I'm leaving.” Harsh? Perhaps. "Either you trust me, or you don't. Decide."

"Fuck," he grunts, running a hand through his dark hair. "You are being very unreasonable, tesoro. I am telling you more than I should already. Is it not enough?"

"No, it's not enough. I don't want half-truths. I don't want half-ass explanations. I want to know everything. I want the details."

"You are impossible.” His jaw clenches as he rests his forearms on his knees. "Kiara, please?—"

"Tell me.”

His dreary gaze meets mine as he reveals, "We will kill Igor and bomb their arms reserves."

Holy shit. I swallow. Knowledge is power. "When?"

"In a week from now," he grumbles, burrowing his face into his hands. "Before the New Year." He peers up at me through his rigid fingers. "Satisfied?"

"Almost.” Unease stirs in my belly. "Is—" I clear my throat. "Is Andre still alive?"

"Not for long."

Oh.

"Don't kill him," I whisper, my gaze flitting to the ground. "Turn him over to the Russian authorities. The families of his victims, they deserve justice."

"Tesoro," Milo hums, pushing himself off the bench and kneeling down in front of me. He grabs my hands, craning his head to meet my glossy eyes. "I cannot do that."

"Why not? You have all the information that you need, don't you? He deserves to rot in jail, Milo. Death seems almost like a gift. It's not fair. These families will live the rest of their lives thinking the man who murdered their daughters is still alive, breathing. That's not fair! That's not justice."

"Kiara, if we were to give Andre to the police, he would never see a day in prison," Milo cups my cheek, grazing his thumb along my hairline as he softens his tone. "He knows too much about the brotherhood. He would trade information for freedom and protection."

"That's fucked up," I croak. "That's not fair."

"I told you, tesoro," Milo hums regretfully. "We are not the only corrupt organization in the world. Your heart is in the right place but unfortunately, that is the truth."

I clench my teeth. “Did he suffer?"

"What?"

"Andre.” I swallow, a sinister sense of disgust rising in my throat. "When you were torturing him, did he suffer?"

"Kiara— "

"Tell me.” I grip the bench press, my fingers cramping. "I need to know."

"Yes," Milo admits in a strained tone, an almost shameful wince seizing his features. "Please do not?—"

"Good."

"What?" Milo's puzzled eyes spring open. "Good? I thought you would be upset with me, I thought you would think me a monster."

There are many defining firsts in a person's life.

First step. First word. First missing tooth. First time riding a bike. First broken bone. First crush. First love. First heartbreak.

First time you see the world for what it is.

I was mistaken. There isn't only good and evil. Right or wrong. Black and white.

It's a nice thought but it's unrealistic.

It's a lie.

"You were right. There is a grey area. I see that now."

"Tesoro…” Milo frowns, curling two fingers under my chin. "I am sorry."

"For what?" I fight against every instinct not to lean into his touch. "For lying to me?"

"For lying to you," he breathes, arching down, his nose brushing against mine as our foreheads touch. "And for telling you the truth." I sniffle, tears on the cusp of spilling. "Perhaps now, Kiara, you understand why I tried to spare you, why I did not wish to burden you." His hot breath fans against my lips as he whispers, "You wanted the truth, tesoro, this is it."

"How do you sleep at night, Milo? Knowing what you know?"

"I didn't sleep.” He pulls me against his chest, his safe, warm arms encircling my waist. "Not until I met you." He laces his fingers through my hair, his earthy brown eyes glowing with pure, untainted admiration. "I love you, Kiara, and I am sorry that I hurt you. Forgive me. I beg of you, please forgive me."

"I believe that you're sorry.” I lift my hand up to his face, caressing the stubble on his cheek, outlining the edge of his strong jaw. And I do. I believe him. He's being real and raw and vulnerable. If only it were enough. "But I can't forgive you. Not yet. I need time, Milo. I need time."

"How much time?" he asks in a hoarse, rough tone as his grip around me tightens ever so slightly.

"I don't know," I whisper, pushing myself to my feet as I wipe away tears. “A day, a week, a month. I don't know."

"I understand," he says in a lowly tone. "Take as much time as you need, tesoro. And when you are ready, say yes."

Too much. Too soon. Too fast.

"I'm going to go help Julia decorate the Christmas tree now," I say, needing some space. Again. "I'll see you at dinner."

And with that, I head back to my room, my heart humming with happiness, my brain slowly coming around the idea of staying, and my gut telling me I made the right choice.

Crawling back into bed, I open my notebook and stare at the list.

Cons :

He's the head of a mafia

He's killed people

He's a criminal

He tried to kill me

He kidnapped me

He lied to m e

Pros:

I love him.

Perhaps, I should have told him how I feel. I should have said it back. I should have given him some hope.

But he broke my trust.

I think I'll wait a bit before I give him full access to break my heart.