21. Fifteen Down

Chapter 21

Fifteen Down

Spots of soft yellow light coax open my eyelids. For the first time in days, I wake up naturally, not from nightmares, restlessness, guilt, but from the sun.

It's refreshing. Odd. And despite the sore and tender ache between my legs – a physical reminder of my wretched deed – I feel rested, relaxed, rejuvenated .

Last night, I lost it. I gave into temptation. I crossed a line. A sweet, blissful line that left me feeling on top of the fucking world. The weight that I've been carrying on my shoulders since Monaco doesn't feel as heavy today. It's still there. It'll always be there. But it's lighter. It's manageable. Maybe Julia was right. Maybe I needed to talk about it sooner.

Or scream about it.

In theory, I knew she was right, but I couldn't bring myself to address the storm of emotions brewing inside me. I was naive to think I could ignore it, pretend like it would vanish on its own. I needed to let it out. Expel the pain from my body. I am thankful for Milo. He drove me to the edge .

He helped me set the storm free.

Both storms.

Emotional and physical.

The melody of winter birds fills my ears as I rub my eyes, adjusting my vision to the brightness. Tugging the duvet over my chest, my gaze floats to the armchair in front of the curved floor-to-ceiling window.

I suck in a small breath, unable to suppress a smile. He didn't leave. I would have thought he'd flee once I fell asleep. But he didn't.

He stayed.

Or he came back.

Either way, his presence makes my heart flutter. An electric buzz spreads through my body as I study him carefully, slowly, with mild gratitude and major yearning.

Dressed in a three-piece light grey suit – a change from his usual all-black attire – Milo holds a folded-up newspaper in his left hand, his groomed brows knitted together in concentration. The tip of a fountain pen rests on the corner of his plump lips.

It's hard not to admire the man who somehow managed to bring me back to life.

I trace the curves of his masculine nose, his sculpted jawline, his wide shoulders, his long slender fingers, his ankle that's hiked over his thigh, his bouncing foot.

There is nothing I would change about the unearthly gorgeous man in front of me.

Aside from his profession.

And his spotty morals.

Yet, as he scribbles down answers to what I can only assume is a crossword puzzle, he doesn't look evil. He looks like a man .

A man that's making me question my principles. A man that's shaken my foundation. A man that's shifted the ground beneath my feet.

A man I know I should despise.

But I don't.

Not even a little.

"Are you finished staring?"

His voice startles me, my cheeks flushing from embarrassment as his dark gaze flickers in my direction. Compared to the beast that warped my entire perception of what constitutes good sex, the soft glow of humor in his eyes makes him look so tame, so fucking docile.

When I don't respond, his lips curl up into a knowing smirk. "Good morning, bella."

"Morning." I sit up and rest against the headboard. My belly stirs as he licks his lips. "What uh—what time is it?"

"It is almost 1 p.m." Milo lowers the newspaper to his lap, uncrossing his legs. He twists the pen between his fingers. "I did not want to wake you. I figured after last night...you needed the sleep."

I slept through the whole night? Wow . He literally fucked me into a coma.

"How long have you uh—" I swallow, my breathing uneven as fragments of our chaotic, violent, euphoric act flash through my mind. Holy hell. I clear my throat, my mouth dry. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Not long." He expels a rich low chuckle as he cocks his head to the side. "I had several meetings this morning, but I returned as soon as I could."

"Oh." I let out a hum of understanding, a half-smile on my face.

Meetings? About what?

The air between us is charged, heavy with heated memories, with the uncertainty of what happens next. He's guarded. I'm apprehensive. He's cautious. I'm wary.

He's smoldering. And I'm on fucking fire.

Controlling his facial expression, Milo nods to a silver tray on the console table. "Would you like some coffee? It's fresh. Luisa just brought it up."

I blink. Luisa brought it up? To my room? With Milo here? She knows. She must know we— Oh crap . This might not go over well with the family. But I mean, it's just sex.

It's not like...

"Kiara?"

"Coffee sounds great." Anxiety thrums in my veins as I slip out of bed, my mangled nightgown rising over my thighs. A tiny breeze blows between my legs. My eyes widen. I am not wearing any underwear. Oh God.

"Is there a problem?" Milo lifts a brow, his covetous gaze dancing around the thin fabric covering my body.

"Not at all," I peep, circling the bed toward the bathroom. "I need to uh—freshen up."

My mind goes into overdrive as I change my clothes, brush my teeth, and attempt to comb the 'I got pummeled into oblivion last night' out of my tangled hair.

I had sex with Milo. A Don. The leader of Italy's most notorious mafia family. Surely, this will have consequences that extend past the bedroom. If you do this, you are mine. Only mine. What does that mean? In the moment, the possible repercussions of what I was agreeing to didn't matter, I didn't care. I was too wrapped up in his smell, his overpowering sexual magnitude, my own building desire. But now? Now I'm thinking clearly.

Sort of .

What does he want from me?

But more importantly...what am I willing to give him?

Yanking a dusty rose balloon-sleeve cardigan off the hanger, I slip it on, the soft fabric brushing against my midsection. I adjust the leather high-waisted skirt hugging my hips as I give myself an encouraging look in the full-length mirror. Relax. It'll be fine. Sucking in a confident breath, I traipse back into my bedroom.

"It might be a little cold now." Milo peers up from the newspaper as I pour myself a cup of tepid coffee from the French press.

"Well, now it's an iced coffee." I glance out the window, the looming grey clouds in the sky grabbing my attention. "I think it's going to rain."

Milo lets out a labored sigh as he scans my face. "Rain is good, tesoro. It is essential to the survival of every living organism. Such as with the sun, without rain, we would perish."

It's all about balance. Rain and sun. Hot and cold. Good and bad.

Right and wrong.

I nod slowly, skimming the top of his newspaper. Interesting choice. "Daily Telegraph? Any specific reason why you're reading a UK paper?"

Milo smiles, the warmth strong enough to thaw every iceberg, flood the earth, drown me.

With a smirk, he gently pats his thigh, inviting me to take a seat."For the crosswords. I could use some help."

"I'm not good at crosswords," I lie, tapping my nails against the coffee cup.

"I do not believe you for a second." He tilts his head. "Sit, Kiara. I'm almost finished. "

"Fine."

I bite my lip as I tentatively perch on the tip of his knee, the texture of his trousers smooth against the back of my thighs. The aromatic dry cedar notes of his cologne drive me crazy as I inhale a tiny breath.

"Relax, tesoro," he chuckles, adjusting his position. He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest. My skirt rides up. "You are very tense."

"Which one do you need help with?" I whisper as he sweeps my hair off to the side. His stubble brushes against my shoulder as he feathers kisses up the slope of my neck. His fingers glide along my exposed midsection and I shudder, squeezing my thighs together from his all-too-gentle touch.

"Fifteen down." Milo's heady breath blows against my ear, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh. Holy shit. "Five letters—" His hand drifts up to my chest, his fingers circling my heaving breasts. "The clue is—" I close my eyes, squirming on his lap as he rolls my nipple between his thumb and index finger. The pressure sends a flood of heat to my lower abdomen. " Invigorate ."

Bastard.

"Rouse," I breathe, stifling a moan as he continues teasing, twisting my stiff peaks. "Does it fit?"

"Mhmm." He drags his hand down my chest, past my stomach, his fingers gliding over my thigh— his touch so hot, so meticulous, so fucking arousing . "One more—" He slips his fingers up my skirt, curling them under the hem of my panties. My thighs spread to give him more room to explore, to play – to pleasure. "Patience, tesoro."

"Milo," I whimper, rocking my hips against his hand. "Please. "

"Twenty-six across—" He expels an airy chuckle, smirking against my skin as he bites my neck. "Six letters—" He pushes past the red lace, cursing under his breath. A guttural growl rumbles in his chest as he swirls my pulsing sex. "So fucking responsive."

I bite my lip, arching into this touch as he slides two fingers into my soaking folds, his calloused thumb flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His lips tickle my ear as he rasps, "The clue is 'covered, as in with chocolate'."

I can barely understand anything he's saying. All I hear is the sloshing of his fingers thrusting in and out of my dripping sex, his ragged breathing, the moans of ecstasy slipping from my lips.

"Dipped?" I offer breathlessly, my walls clenching around his fingers, my toes curling from the invigorating sensation.

Milo stops his ministrations, my needy body tensing. "Try again."

"Fuck…" Frustration courses through my veins. Damn sadist. I can't think right now. "I don't know."

"You do." He whirls his fingers inside of me so faintly that I might die from discomfort. "What is the answer, tesoro?"

"I don't know." Close. I'm so fucking close to climaxing. He increases the speed, the pressure, encouraging me to give him a better answer.

"Think, Kiara. Or I will stop. Covered, as in with chocolate ."

"Oh my God!" My belly contracts as he flicks my clit. "Don't stop."

"You are in control, bella. It is in your hands."

I writhe on his lap, his hard-on pressing into my ass. "I don't fucking know! Soaked?"

"Yes, you are," he laughs. "But not the correct answer."

I lied. I fucking despise him. Evil, horrible man.

"Milo," I beg as he slows down again. "Please..."

"Last chance. Think, Kiara. You know the answer."

"I don't know!" I bite my lip, trapped in a cage of literal goddamn torture. "Coated?"

"Good girl."

Milo's grip tightens around my body. His hand snakes around the base of my throat as he dives his fingers deep, deep inside me, every movement harder, faster, more aggressive as I shudder, squirm, buck in his grasp.

"Come, Kiara."

And I do, exploding in a wave of rapturous release, my chest expanding, my body blotchy, red, content. I open my eyes as Milo pulls his fingers out of my sex, my heart racing with adrenaline.

He smirks with glowing pride, satisfaction. "See? You are good at crosswords. You just need the correct—" He licks his lips. " Incentive ."

"Funny." I try to scowl at him but my entire being is humming in a sated daze. "You are a cruel man."

"Perhaps." He cocks his head, a lopsided grin on his face. "But you are also a very cruel woman." I sit up, attempting to adjust my skirt, my inner thighs wet and sticky. "Do you know you talk in your sleep?"

His softening erection presses against my hip. Are we not addressing that? "I talk in my sleep?"

"Yes." He curls his fingers under my jaw, brushing his soft lips against mine. "You kept saying my name. It took a lot of self-control not to wake you with my cock. Very cruel of you, tesoro. "

My eyes spring open. I said his name? Goddamn subconscious.

I rest my palm against his chest. "I'm shocked you didn't. Seems very out of character."

"All creatures must evolve." He tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear as he lifts me to my feet. "Plus—" He smirks. "You deserved an undisturbed sleep."

"Deserved?" In a slight daze, my gaze flits down to a dark blotch on his pant leg, my cheeks immediately blazing with embarrassment. "Oh my God."

He follows my sightline, his lips quirking up into a mischievous grin. "What a bad day to wear grey. I hope no one sees."

My jaw drops. "You better?—"

"Kiara," he cocks his head to the side, "don't be shy. It's very natural. Nothing to be embarrassed about."

I close my eyes. "I swear to God, Milo. If you don't change your fucking pants before going out in public, I will literally kill you."

He lets out a low chuckle. "You are radiant when you blush, tesoro. But do not worry. We are going straight to my office."

I frown. "Your office? Why?"

"I need to show you something." He clears his throat, the energy in the room darkening. "It has to do with Andre."

The envelope.

My heart drops to my stomach. "What is it?"

"You will see." He holds out his hand, his eyes soft, inviting. "Shall we?"

"I need to use the bathroom first."

A knowing glimmer flashes across his face. "Very well. You can meet me there."

"Okay." Before he exits, I call out, "Milo? "

He cranes his neck toward me, "Yes, tesoro?"

"Do I need to see this? Whatever it is."

"I believe it is necessary," he replies with a weak smile. "I will meet you in my office."

"Okay."

Is this what Marchello and Milo were arguing about?

Or something else?