23. Down the Rabbit Hole

Chapter 23

Down the Rabbit Hole

"Get off your phone," Julia huffs as I reopen my messages app for the umpteenth time. Still no reply. It takes two fucking seconds to respond to a text. "Am I boring you, Kiara?"

I roll my eyes, flipping my phone face down, the force vibrating all the jewelry sprawled across the dining room table.

Milo's texting etiquette leaves much to be desired.

Wednesday

Where are you?

Apologies, tesoro. I will not make it tonight.

Why? What happened?

Nothing.

Thursday

Is everything ok?

Everything is fine.

Milo, what is going on? You've been MIA for two days.

Nothing.

This morning

Are we still going to Milan today? Or is that canceled? I'd like to know if I have to pack. Please respond at your earliest convenience. Or never. That works too.

Pack.

I don't want to go anymore. Not really in the mood for a gala. Or in the mood to be ignored.

Nothing.

"I was just checking the time," I grumble. "How is it only 10? I feel like we've been at this for hours."

Resting my elbow on the table, I mindlessly sweep my fingers across all the abandoned necklaces and rings that we're organizing. Half we're donating, the other half we can keep. The ex-mafia queen apparently didn't think these pieces were valuable enough to take to Monaco. One woman's outdated Tiffany's is another woman's... normal Tiffany's.

Julia crosses her arms as she leans back into her chair, her cherry red lips pursed. "Don't lie to me, cara. I can see his name on the screen. What is going on with the two of you?"

I press my lips into a thin line as I add an opal ring with a gold band to my pile of keepers. "Nothing is going on. I just asked him about the gala. That's all. "

Seeing as I don't know what the fuck is going on between me and Milo, I'm not really lying. He kisses me. He fucks me. He tells me I'm enchanting— whatever the hell that means.

And then he drops off the face of the planet.

Am I mad? No. I'm not mad. I'm annoyed. No. I'm not even annoyed. I am simply confused. Mildly irritated. Irked, if you will.

And maybe a little mad.

Just a little.

Julia lets out a sigh, tilting her head. "You can talk to me, cara. You know this. I am not a fool; I can tell that you have been hiding something from me."

Detective Julia.

"Does Paolo ever just... ignore you ?" I avoid her invasive gaze. God, I sound like a damn teenager. Pathetic. "Like, does he just, I don't know, not reply to your messages for days?"

I am regressing into adolescence.

He is making me into a crazy phone watcher! Every time I get a notification, I jump in my seat. If Apple sends me one more notice to update my iOS, I might actually die from a heart attack.

Julia snorts. "All the time. I could probably fit all the text messages he's sent me over the past year on a single piece of lined paper. The men in this family are not exactly the best at communicating."

"No shit."

"If it makes you feel better, Paolo has also been coming to bed very late the past couple of days," Julia muses, sifting through the necklaces. "Something important must have come up. I wouldn't worry too much about it if I were you."

I narrow my eyes. "They're still here ? In the house? "

Now I really am mad.

"As far as I know they have not left." Julia shrugs, her carefree light attitude making me feel extra pathetic. She glances up at me. "Kiara, if you do not stop frowning, you will need Botox way too early."

"You're right, you're right. I just need to let it go. I am letting it go ." I expel a deep groan. "Milo can do whatever he wants. Not my problem."

"You had sex, didn't you?" Julia cocks her head to the side. Oh, shit. "This is why you are so upset, no?"

I blink. "No."

Julia closes her eyes and takes a tiny, somewhat threatening, breath. "I swear to all the gods, Kiara, if you lie to me one more time, I will cut you in your sleep."

My jaw drops. "I?—"

Her eyes flutter open, a hint of humor flashing in her dark irises. "Talk to me, cara." She pauses, cringing. "Not too much detail though."

Fuck it. Maybe she can shine some light on the psyche of Emilio Di Vaio. I sure as hell don't have a clue.

After rambling for thirty minutes, I take a deep breath, my throat dry. Damn, she's a good listener. Too good. If I didn't need a sip of water, I wouldn't have stopped talking.

"So?" I chug back the San Pellegrino, parched from talking. "Thoughts?"

Julia hums, crossing her legs, her gaze pensive, thoughtful, as she mulls over the details. "What is it that you want from my brother? It seems as though both of you are unwilling to define your relationship."

"What?" I choke out. "Relationship? We don't have a relationship. We're just—" I bite my lip. "We're just...having sex?"

This was a bad idea. What an oversight.

Her clinical gaze scans my flustered face. "If you are just having sex then why do you care where he is? Why do you keep checking your phone? Why are we even having this conversation?"

I cross my arms defensively. "Am I going to have to pay for this therapy session, Doctor Casellati? Or is the first one free?"

Julia rolls her eyes. "I am asking you important questions, Kiara. You need to decide what you want from him. And once you do, take it. It's simple."

Nothing about this is simple. It's messy, convoluted, potentially disastrous. He's like an electromagnet, capable of generating world-defying power but can also be deathly destructive if not handled properly. And I don't know if I can handle him. There's no manual to follow. No guidelines. No historical data to reference. He's uncharted territory and I don't have a map.

I'm scared of getting lost.

"I don't know what I want," I admit, my tone low, defeated.

And neither does he. We're at a stalemate once again. Except for this time, the stakes are higher. We're not playing with power. We're playing with hearts.

And mine is chained. Locked. Guarded.

Terrified.

Julia smiles, placing her hand on mine as she whispers, "Then first, you must figure out what you want Kiara. Everything else will fall into place."

"Or it'll all fall apart."

Footsteps sound in the distance and I snap my head toward the entryway.

My face falls.

" Buongiorno, Signora ," Marchello nods, greeting Julia as he approaches the table. His eyes are sunken, bloodshot, glazed over as he glances at me. " Kiara ."

"Good morning, Marchello. How are you? How is my husband ? Alive, I hope?" Julia glares at Marchello who stays silent, his inquisitive gaze scanning the jewelry on the table. "Well?"

I blink, shocked by her combative attitude and Marchello's sheepishness. What is happening right now?

"Yes, Signora, he is alive." His lips twist up in contemplation. "I believe he went to your room."

"Oh, is your three-day long meeting over? So soon? Are you sure that was enough time to 'talk' ?"

Oof. She might care just a little.

"For now, it is over." Marchello tosses Julia a tight smile. "Paolo is all yours."

"And my brother?" She crosses her arms. I jerk up in my seat. Bless you, Julia. "Where is he?"

"He is in his office." Marchello glances toward me. "Waiting for you ."

"Me?" I clear my throat. At least he hasn't forgotten that I exist.

"Yes, he told me to get you." Marchello takes a deep breath and checks his watch. "You should go now. We leave for Milan in an hour."

"I can finish sorting the rest by myself," Julia smiles at me then whips her head back at Marchello, snapping at my pile of jewelry. "Take this to Kiara's room."

"No, it's fine," I protest. God, she's on a rampage. "I can do it."

"It is no problem, Signora," Marchello says to Julia, ignoring me completely as he scoops the pile of necklaces and rings into a silver bowl. "It is on my way."

"Excellent." Julia tilts her head as Marchello lingers. " Was there something else you needed?"

"No."

Once he's out of sight, I gawk at Julia. "What the fuck was that?"

Julia smirks. "That is how you deal with mafia men."

Yeah, maybe that approach works if you're related to the boss. Not just fucking him.

Milo is perched on the edge of the desk, veins protruding from his forearms as he grips the sleek wooden top. I lean against the door frame and cross my arms, taking in the tired man in front of me. His head is hung low, his shoulders slumped, his black hair completely disheveled. He's a mess. A beautiful tantalizing mess.

How unfair.

"You look like shit."

Milo's head snaps up, our eyes locking. A deadbolt. Unbreakable. "I have not slept," he says with a weak smile. "Come in, tesoro. Close the door."

I attempt to stand my ground. "I'm good over here. What do you want?"

"Kiara—" His chest rises with exhaustion. "Come inside and close the fucking door." He pauses, peering up at me, his gaze darkened, serious. " Now ."

I inwardly roll my eyes, taking a step forward and slamming the door shut. "Happy?"

"You are angry with me." He frowns, rubbing his chin methodically as he gives me a once over. "Why?"

"Really?" I scoff, walking toward the aloof bastard. "You disappeared for three fucking days, Milo. That's why."

"I had to take care of an emergency." He licks his lips as I approach and stop a foot away from him. Shameless . "It was not my intention to upset you, Kiara."

"What was the emergency?"

"I do not wish to burden you with the details, tesoro. It is over now." He expels a defeated sigh. I thought he trusted me. "Kiara, please try to understand. There are many things I wish I could share with you but for the safety of my family, and you, I simply cannot."

His velvety voice is so hypnotizing that all the resentment thrumming through my veins dissipates, disperses, dissolves into nothingness. I want to be upset with him. I am upset with him. But that particular emotion seems to be overpowered by my need to be touched by him, to be close to him, to feel the warmth of his intoxicating body.

"You could've at least replied to my texts. I was worried something bad happened. That you were hurt."

His plump lips curl into a smile. "I did reply, tesoro. Were my responses not adequate enough to verify proof of life?" He reaches out, curling his fingers under my chin. His thumb strokes my jawline, sending shivers down my spine. "A dead man cannot text, Kiara."

"You know what I meant." The gritty texture of his knuckles brush against my skin. I grab his hand and glare at the bruises and dried blood sprawled across the top. I frown. "What happened to your hand? Did a sparrow attack you?"

"No." He lets out an amused chuckle, "Just a mild disagreement." He snakes his hand around my waist, my body settling in between his legs.

"Mild?" I tilt my head, my entire fucking body melting into his arms. "That's mild?"

Milo smirks. "It is merely a scratch."

I scowl at him. "Right. I suppose compared to gunshots and murder, that's pretty mild. "

"Do you know what I think, tesoro?" Milo pulls me flush against his chest, his large hand gliding up and down my spine as he arches forward, his balmy breath fanning my ear. "I think you are trying very hard to find reasons to be mad but in reality—" He threads his fingers through my hair, tugging it gently. "You've simply missed me."

"No…" I squirm in his arms as he drags his thumb along my parted lips. "I didn't."

"Yes, Kiara. You did. " He brushes his nose against mine. "And I have also missed you. I've missed—" He takes a deep breath, inhaling the muggy, heated air swirling around us. " Le tue belle labbra ." He feathers his lips against mine, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh. Oh, God . " Il tua pelle morbido ." His tongue flicks out, leaving wet trails of salvia against my neck. His hand cups my breasts, applying just the right amount of pressure to make my insides burn. " I tuoi fottuti seni ." Holy shit. "But mostly—" His hand slides up my pleated skirt, two of his fingers stroking the thin fabric of my panties. "I've missed this."

"Milo—" I breathe out a small moan as he rolls circles across my clit. My arms wrap around his neck and I fist his hair as he pushes my panties to the side. Anticipation buzzes through me. "I still need to pack."

"We have time," he growls, pushing two fingers past my dampened folds. He coils his hand around the base of my throat as his lips ambush mine— demanding, ravenous, hungry.

And fuck it if I have any control, I want him too. Like an addict, I crave him, so desperate, so needy, so fucking helpless. He's a drug. A narcotic. A life ruiner. And I want him to ruin me. I need a hit. I need something. Fucking anything.

My hand travels down his chest to his pelvis, stroking the growing hard-on under his pants. "You really have missed me," I whisper against his lips, gasps of airy arousal escaping my lungs as I undulate my hips against his wicked fingers. I unzip his trousers and free his throbbing erection, nearly salivating at the sight of his long, thick cock just waiting to be sucked.

I begin to lower myself to my knees but in one swift motion, Milo flips me over. My chest slams against the cold wooden desk, my ass sticking out. He arches over me, pushing my skirt up, tearing through my panties like a wild animal.

"We don't have that much time," he rasps, teasing my slit with a tormenting touch.

"Fuck!" I let out a startled yelp as he slaps my ass, pain shooting up my spine but quickly turning into pleasure. I crane my neck toward him, the electric glimmer of dominance dancing around his face makes me excited. So fucking excited.

With his hand on the base of his shaft, Milo grazes the tip of his cock against my folds. A needy wanton moan slips from my lips. "Please..."

"You are so fucking sexy when you beg." A guttural groan thunders in his chest as he surges forward, filling my pussy to the hilt. "Christ, Kiara…"

I whimper in ecstasy as he loops my hair around his wrist and pulls me backward. I arch my spine, his hand coiling around my neck as his unyielding cock fucks the living shit out of me.

With every thrust, my eyes roll to the back of my head; agony and bliss flooding every corner of my mind.

"You feel so fucking good." He bites my ear lobe, his right-hand tightening around my throat, constricting airflow in the best possible way .

"Oh my God!" I moan as he strokes my clit with his left hand, my walls contracting around his dick, forcing a howling roar to tumble from his lips. "Don't stop!"

I grip onto his muscular forearm, holding myself upright. My minds spins from the earthy scent of sex and sweat and savagery.

"Fuck," Milo hisses as I near nirvana, my legs shaking, quaking, vibrating from violent rapture.

When my orgasm tears through my body, he pulls out, swiftly turning my body around. He lifts me on top of the desk, my legs spreading, inviting him in.

I curl my fingers around his shirt, his shoulders, his hair. My chest is heaving, panting, contorting in breathlessness as he arches over, his lips owning mine. Unrelenting utopia courses through my veins as he punishes me with his cock.

I scream his name, another wave of climax seizing my organs, ripping through my entire being, sending my essence flying to another dimension.

He growls, biting my lip, a metallic taste lingering in my mouth as his whole body convulses. His grip tightens around my hips as he spills hot cum inside of me.

Panting, our bodies fold against one another, our breathing ragged, harmonized. He laces his fingers through my messy hair and rains kisses all over my satisfied face.

He pulls out of me and helps me off the desk, his eyes glazed over, softened, so fucking delectable. "You are a goddess. Un angelo mandato dal cielo ."

If only.

"I'm hardly an angel," I breathe as we both clumsily attempt to redress. If he keeps shredding all my underwear, I'm going to have nothing left by the end of the year. "And I'm certainly not from heaven."

That's a pipedream now .

Milo wraps me in his arms, stroking my hair, his touch so delicate that I can barely feel it. "You are my version of heaven, tesoro. And that is all a man needs."

I'm too comatose to overthink his words. I'll do that later.

His fingers lace through mine as we head out of the office, my gait unsteady. "I still need to pack."

"Luisa should have packed most of your belongings already," Milo says as we climb the stairs to our floor. His hand never leaves the small of my back. Whether it's out of affection or safety, I don't know.

"Did she pack the red dress?" I ask in a playful tone as we round the corner to our rooms. "You really need to expand your color horizons."

Milo lets out a melodic laugh. "The gala we are attending is also referred to as The Scarlet Ball. Everyone will be wearing red, tesoro."

I toss him a coy smirk. "That must be a fantasy come true for you then. It's like your own personal version of Viagra."

Milo narrows his bloodshot eyes at me. "You are all the Viagra I need."

"Charming." I roll my eyes, concealing the grin that's threatening to expose me. I clear my throat as we pause outside my room. "I'll meet you at the car?"

Milo nods, lifting my hand to his lips. "Don't be late."

"I'm never late."

Hurriedly, I give myself what can only be described as a whore bath before I pack a small travel bag and shove make-up, a Kindle, and my phone into a purse.

At this point, I'm giving up on trying to understand Milo. He is who he is and for now, that's okay. Julia might have a point. Eventually, a clear definition of what our relationship is might be helpful, but right now? I don't fucking care.

Right now, I'm on cloud fucking nine.

Before heading out of my room to the parkade, the silver bowl of jewelry on my vanity table catches my eye. I need something to wear with the dress tonight. I pick a couple of necklaces off the top. One diamond-studded choker, the other a ruby heart on a simple chain. We went through so many pieces today; I can't remember if there's something better on the bottom. Doesn't matter, I don't have time to look anyway.

When I get down to the garage, Milo is already in the backseat of the SUV, his clothes changed, his hair damp from a quick shower. He looks refreshed. Still deathly tired but refreshed.

He casts me a playful scowl. "I told you not to be late."

"I'm a woman, we need time."

The driver starts the car and pulls out of the six-car garage.

"Mmm." Milo suppresses a yawn. "That is true."

I tilt my head, getting secondhand fatigue. "Why don't you take a nap? It's a two-hour drive."

His weary eyelids flutter. "I would much rather talk to you, tesoro. I am fine."

I sidle closer to him. "I'm not going anywhere. Just sleep."

And for once, he doesn't protest, doesn't argue. He lowers his head on my shoulder and within seconds drifts off into a deep sleep.

I smile, glancing down at his peaceful face as I pull up Pride and Prejudice on my Kindle.

I'm in the mood for a romance.

And this time, it's not for an escape.