26. Tapestry of Trust

Chapter 26

Tapestry of Trust

The past several weeks have been tempestuous, chaotic, unyielding with trauma and temptation.

The days were wild, tensions were high, and we were wrapped in emotional armor.

We were unwilling to shed our masks, unable to free ourselves from the shackles of fear.

We were trapped in the second circle of hell.

Until now.

As we slowly undress each other, the world seems to still, all the noise fading away until we're the only two people on earth.

Just us.

Moonlight reflects off Milo's face as he feasts upon my lips, his fingers gripping the roots of my hair, his hand tracing the soft edges of my curves.

Our tongues mesh and melt and meld together in heavenly perfection; every flick, every lick, every kiss more powerful, more intimate, more tender than anything I've ever experienced or will ever experience in my whole life.

Whatever you want, Kiara, it is yours .

And it is mine. I can feel it. It's in the way he's touching me, it's in his shallow breathing, it's in the melodic beating of his heart. It's in his lingering kiss.

I can taste his promise. It tingles my lips. It fills my heart with faith.

Milo pulls back, brushing his nose against mine as he rasps, " Resta con me per sempre ."

My breath hitches as I meet his dusky eyes, my heart thudding in my chest. "If you want me to stay with you forever," I whisper, gliding my palms over the taut, muscular ridges of his shoulders. "Don't give me a reason to leave."

Milo closes his eyes, his jaw clenching as he cups my cheek, his thumb grazing my lips. "I cannot promise that, tesoro. There will be days where you will loathe me and wish me dead."

At least he's being honest.

"Okay, in that case—" I guide him to the edge of the bed, my calves bumping against the king-sized mattress. "Instead of giving me a reason to leave, give me a reason to stay."

"That—" Milo lowers me down on the sateen sheets, hovering over me as his erection feathers my midsection. "I can do."

Anticipation and arousal collect in my belly as Milo settles himself between my legs, parting my thighs. I expel an airy moan, fisting the bedding as his tongue sails across my succulent folds, whirling, teasing, nipping at my sex.

"Oh my God," I whimper, lacing my fingers through Milo's hair, keeping him in place as he quickens his pace, sucking savagely on my swollen clit. "Fuck, yes. More. Please. Oh my God. "

"More?" A guttural groan escapes the back of his throat as he curls two fingers inside of me, pushing in and out in steady, controlled motions. "Is this what you want, Kiara? "

"Yes! Fuck!" He reaches my G-spot, expertly pushing me closer to the edge until a divine flash of release blinds me. My legs tremble as I come all over his lapping lips. "Holy shit..."

With a wolfish grin on his face, Milo peers up at me from between my legs, his mouth glistening with my juices. He licks his bottom lip, smirking. "I am not finished with you."

"I know," I breathe in a languorous state, grabbing onto Milo's neck and pulling him flush against my sated body. "Not even close."

I rain wet kisses down the slope of his neck as his arms wind around my waist. Rotating our bodies, Milo nibbles on my earlobe, his hands kneading my breasts, pinching my nipples. The sharp sensation of his touch spears heat into my aching core as I slide my hand down the length of his torso, curling my fingers around his pulsing erection.

A low moan tumbles from his lips, his cock twitching in my hand as I dip down and drag my tongue along his hard shaft, leaving streaks of saliva on every bit of his pink veiny flesh.

I don't tease him. No. I give him everything he wants but I take my time. We have so much fucking time. Milo sweeps my hair off to the side so he can look at me as I taste him, savor him, consume every last inch of his cock.

"Come here, tesoro," he rasps, caressing my hairline as my head bobs up and down, my hand stroking the wetted girth of his dick. "I want to feel you."

Milo sits up, running his hands over every crevice of my sensitive body as I straddle him, my wet sex rubbing against his throbbing cock. He grips the base of his shaft and lines it up at my entrance as he devours my lips in deep, passionate, celestial fucking kisses .

There's something different about the way he's holding me. There's no aggression, no dominance, no power.

It's balanced. Even. Harmonic.

"Oh, fuck." Milo lets out a wanton growl as I sink down on his length, my walls stretching to accommodate his size. "Kiara?—"

"Mmm…" I swallow his hoarse groans as I move my hips, an orchestra of slapping flesh and mutual moans of pleasure permeating the air around us.

With our naked bodies woven together in a tapestry of trust, we move in blissful unison, heady, sweet sweat filling our lungs. Euphoric pants and gasps blow between our swollen lips as I drag my nails against his back, his shoulders, his neck.

I whimper as Milo switches the angle, thrusting his cock deep inside me as he tugs on my hair, tilting my head, and forcing my eyelids to spring open. My chest heaves as we stare into each other's eyes, picking up speed, my insides on the verge of ethereal spasm.

"Yes," Milo roars, latching onto my nipple, his thumb circling my clit as my walls clench around his cock. Oh, God. My head snaps back from elevated jubilation. "Come, baby. Come for me."

And with those words, I come undone, screaming out his name as I shake in his arms. Milo pumps faster, my body trembling with tranquility as he seeks his own erupting release.

With one final thrust, Milo spills inside of me, capturing my lips, groaning into my mouth, his body sticking to mine as his dick twitches within me.

With tangled limbs and rising chests, we topple over, basking in the glow of satisfaction and comfort .

We remain silent, speechless, because there's nothing more to say.

We've said it all.

After a few minutes of quiet recuperation, we clean ourselves off and climb back into bed. Milo draws me closer to his chest, my head resting on his shoulder as he secures me in his arms.

"You are tired, tesoro." Milo kisses my temple as I float my fingers up and down the bumpy texture of the healed scars on his arm. "We should sleep."

Having barely survived such an emotionally draining and tumultuous day, I should be tired. Yet, I'm not. I don't want to be. I don't want to sleep. Not yet. I want to hold on to this moment for a little while longer.

I trace a long closed-up wound on one of his triceps. "What happened here? It looks old."

"It is," Milo confirms in a distant tone, his mind wandering. "I fell out of a tree trying to keep up with my brother."

"You climbed trees with your brother?" I tilt my head up and kiss the underside of his jaw. "How precious."

Almost normal.

"I was seven at the time and Sergio was ten." A small, cynical chuckle slips from his lips. "He was very ambitious, even as a child."

I swallow, nuzzling my head deeper into his soft chest, no shields in sight. "What do you mean?"

"He always wanted more," Milo whispers, lazily playing with my fingers. "He wanted to climb the highest, run the furthest, lift the heaviest." A pause. "Ambition, it is a dangerous trait in this life."

"How so?"

Milo closes his eyes, inhaling a deep sobering breath. "When my father passed away, Sergio was more than happy to be named the new head of the family. He always wanted more power, more money, more control. He had a vision for us. That we would dominate the world, not just Italy."

I continue to caress Milo's lithe body as he lets me in, as he demonstrates his trust. "Did he succeed?"

"For the most part, yes." Milo expels a sardonic scoff. "Our hotel and casino business was growing steadily in Italy, but Sergio did not care about borders, he wanted to expand operations into neighboring countries. Over the years we had forged alliances across Europe, and he believed that they would be more than willing to cooperate."

"Like Manuel and Henri?" I ask, a shiver seizing my spine. Milo pulls the duvet over my chest as he cocoons me tighter in his arms.

"Exactly," Milo replies, the heat of his body warming mine. "He managed to secure agreements with gangs in France, Spain, Germany, and Poland. They would use our hotels and casinos to launder profits while we took a small percentage. It was a well-thought-out plan. Everything was fine until—" Milo swallows. "Until he decided he wanted to run Moscow."

The Russians.

"What went wrong?"

"Everything." His muscles tense. "We had no allies in Russia but Sergio didn't care, he thought he was invincible. Without consulting the family, he set up operations in Moscow. It took many months before the Pravda faction of the brotherhood found out about it but once they did—" He shakes his head. "It all went south."

I listen intently, rejoicing in the fact I'm finally getting the full story. "What happened? What went wrong?"

" Pravda . They requested a meeting with my brother. One-on-one. Igor, their leader, was adamant that it was only the two of them. I knew it was a bad idea. Marchello and I tried so hard to get Sergio to listen to us, but he was stubborn, high on power, on greed."

"So, he went alone?" I swallow. "And they killed him?"

"Yes," Milo croaks. "Sergio was gone for a whole week, no communication. We thought perhaps they were negotiating terms but then we received a package."

My eyes widen. "Oh, God..."

"It was a blue rose," Milo says lifelessly. "With his name carved into the stem. Their signature. They kept his body. They always keep the body. We—We couldn't give him a proper burial."

"I'm so sorry, Milo." I clench my teeth together, my eyes glossing over. "That's horrible. Everyone deserves a chance to say goodbye."

"I agree," Milo continues, his chest rising. "That is why I wanted to meet with Igor. In exchange for my brother's body, I would pull our operations out of Moscow. Sergio was naive and arrogant to think he could fight the brotherhood. I knew better. I did not want a war. I did not want to make the same mistakes my brother made." He pauses. "But then, right before I was going to make the call—" He looks down at me and tucks my hair behind my ear, his pained eyes flickering across my face. "They did something very foolish."

I blink, my throat closing up as I ask, "What?"

With anguish glowing his irises, Milo's jaw clenches. "At the time of Sergio's passing, I was with a woman, Vittoria." He chokes out the words like they're poison. "We had not been together very long, but she was there for me when he died. I—I cared for her."

And the pieces fall into place. A messy, dark place. One that leaves me uneasy, sick, worried .

Am I a rebound? A consolation prize? A distraction?

"The um—" I clear my throat. "The necklace was hers? V—" I stammer, her name like a dagger on my tongue. "Vittoria's?"

"Yes." Regret flashes across his falling face. "And the woman from the gala, Catarina, she is her sister." He lets out a shaky breath. "Catarina has many reasons to despise me, if her sister never met me, she would be alive."

"It's not your fault, Milo." I graze his stubble with the back of my hand, my heart aching for him. "You weren't the one who killed her."

Milo winces. "She disappeared, Kiara, from my own territory. I didn't even notice her absence until I received the rose. It is my fault. I couldn't protect her. I couldn't keep her safe."

Thick, tense air surrounds us as we lay together, intertwined in sadness and memories. My mind races, matching the speed of my beating heart.

"Did you love her?" I whisper, dreading to hear the answer.

He must have, right?

"I thought I did," Milo hums, his hot breath blowing against my temple. "But now, I am not sure."

I tilt my head up, my eyebrows drawn together. "But you started a war because of her. If you didn't love her, then why?—"

"Reputation." Milo shifts uncomfortably under the covers. "There was no option but to retaliate."

Is he trying to convince me? Or himself?

"How did you retaliate?" I ask hesitantly. "What did you do? I remember um, Andre, he uh—mentioned guns or something. "

Milo nods, avoiding my gaze. "We intercepted some of their arms shipments."

I cast him a wary frown. "I thought you don't traffic guns."

"We don't."

"Then where are the guns? What did you do with the shipments?"

"They're stored in a secure location." Milo shrugs, stifling a yawn. "Perhaps in the future, I will sell them to government agencies at cost. I have not yet decided."

"Government agencies aren't going to buy guns from the mafia," I say, wildly confused by his business plan. "That's illegal."

"You are adorable, tesoro," he says, a weak smile on his face. "We are not the only corrupt organization in the world. This should not be surprising for you to hear." A beat. "Money controls morals, Kiara. It always has and it always will."

Deep down, I know this to be true. It's the unfortunate reality we live in. Money over everything.

Wealth wins.

Always.

"How does this war end?" I ask, holding Milo a little tighter. " When will it end?"

"Soon, tesoro." Milo's soft gaze pierces mine as his lips curl into a fragile smile. "Very soon."

"You seem confident."

"I am," Milo hums into my ear. "Everything will go back to normal soon. I promise you."

"Okay," I murmur, unable to keep my eyes open. "If you say so."

What is normal ?

"Go to sleep, tesoro," Milo whispers. "We can talk more in the morning."

"I want to go back to the Duomo tomorrow," I say, cuddling up to his body. "I want to watch the sunset again."

"We are here for two more days. We can watch all the sunsets you want."

"I love sunsets," I mutter, fatigue flowing through my veins.

"Me too…" He presses his warm lips against my forehead. "Sleep, tesoro."

My father used to tell us that if we looked hard enough, we could find beauty even in the most peculiar places.

Like in a broken man with a broken heart.

Or in a lonely girl who doesn't want to be alone.

Or in the chance encounter that brought them together.

Or in the storm that might blow them apart.