27. Gift of the Present

Chapter 27

Gift of the Present

Even though English is referred to as the universal language, it has many limitations. There are hundreds of beautiful words in foreign languages that describe emotions, senses, and experiences that are simply ineffable in my native tongue.

In Arabic, the word ya'arburnee is the hopeful declaration that you will die before someone you love deeply, because you can't stand to live without them. In German, the word, waldeinsamkeit describes the feeling of solitude and connectedness to nature when being alone in the woods. And in Norwegian, the word forelsket is the euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love.

Forelsket . Could it be? Or is it merely infatuation? Fascination? Admiration?

Stockholm Syndrome? Hah . Possible but highly unlikely.

Leaning against the door frame, a stupid grin on my face, I soak in the sight of the gorgeously complex man in front of me. There are no words to describe how I feel as I watch him read the daily paper .

Grateful, perhaps, that he opened up about his brother? Hesitant, that he just recently lost a woman he cared for? Happy, that he finally trusts me enough to share? Hopeful, that this is the start of something new?

Something exciting, different, potentially world-defying?

All I know is that I've never felt like this before. It's as if my body went through an emotional cleanse overnight. I've flushed out the toxins, the bacteria, the filth of days past. And despite the fact his heart might not be solely mine, at least not right now, I feel renewed, refurbished, ready.

Ready for a new chapter in a story that's been told a thousand times. From Tolstoy to Shakespeare to Austen. Girl meets boy. It's how it always starts.

And the ending? I just pray that it's not Shakespearean.

A calming sense of comfort flows through my veins as I traipse toward the dining room table. Milo snaps his head up from the newspaper in his hand, his glistening eyes giving a slow once-over.

"Good morning, bella," he smiles, lifting a brow as I adjust the white button-up draped over my body. "Is that my shirt?"

"Yeah." I blush, inhaling the familiar oaky scent of his cologne that's seeped into the fabric. My favorite smell. "It was the first thing I could find. I hope that's okay."

"More than okay," he hums, licking his lips. How I envy that tongue. "It looks much nicer on you than on me."

"Obviously," I grin, rolling my eyes as I take a seat next to Milo and pour myself a cup of coffee from the French press. I look around the empty suite. "Where is everyone?"

"They are on an assignment." Milo passes me a plate of pastries. "They'll be back soon."

"Assignment?" I ask, taking a sip of espresso. "Do I want to know?"

"No, you do not." Milo checks his phone, a tiny frown marring his eyebrows. "But if everything goes according to plan, we will not have to worry about the Russians for much longer."

This doesn't make sense. After what happened in Monaco, I expected havoc to ensue. How is the war already ending? It barely even started. Or maybe it did, and I simply wasn't privy to that information. Either way, I'm grateful that it's almost over.

Grateful and a tad scared. It shouldn't be this easy. Something is amiss.

"Oh," I hum suspiciously, dipping a chocolate glazed biscotti into the espresso. "Whatever you're up to, it sounds dangerous."

"Do not worry, tesoro." His velvety voice suffocates my anxiety. "You are not in any danger."

"Is Marchello?" He's usually always with us. His absence, though appreciated, is unnerving. "Will he be okay?"

Milo lets out an amused laugh. "Marchello is a skilled man, Kiara. He will be perfectly fine." Folding the newspaper in half and placing it on the table, Milo leans closer to me. "That being said, we have two whole days to ourselves."

"No business? Just us?"

"I might have to answer a couple of calls, but other than that, no business." He reaches for my hand, his thumb caressing the underside on my wrist. "I am all yours."

"You are?" I meet his gentle gaze as my heart flutters in my chest like it's full of Monarch butterflies. "Mine?"

"Yes." The confirmation of his affection makes my head buzz with contentment. "Only yours. "

"Good," I say, suppressing a satisfied smile. "I don't like to share."

"Neither do I," Milo says with a covetous grin. "So, Kiara, what would you like to do for the next few days?"

"Other than you?" I cock my head to the side. A glimmer of darkened lust flashes across his face. "I want to do everything. I know that might be impossible in two days, but we can try, right?"

"If you keep licking your lips, tesoro—" A mischievous smirk spreads on his face. "We might not have time to do anything other than fuck."

I clear my throat, casting him a playful scowl. "I can fuck you whenever I want, Milo, but the Christmas market only runs for two weeks."

He lets out a deep laugh. "You would rather walk around in the cold and look at handmade ornaments than spend the day in bed with me?"

"Mhmm. There's also music and drinks and food. I've always wanted to try firunatt ."

Milo stands up and circles the table. "You are making me quite hungry, Kiara."

"Here." I hold a piece of biscotti over my shoulder as he runs his fingers through my tangled hair. "Have a snack."

He dips down, snapping the chocolate tip off the almond pastry with his teeth. Double shit . "Delicious," he coos into my ear, his hot breath blowing against my neck. Bastard . "Now for the main course."

"Milo—" Before I can feign protest, he swoops me up into his arms, knocking my chair down in his impulsive wake. I wrap my arms around his neck, glowering at him. "I wasn't done eating yet."

"I can think of a few things to put into your mouth," he rasps across my lips as he carries me into the bedroom.

"I—"

Milo drags his wet tongue along the slope of my neck. Who am I kidding? The Christmas market will be there in an hour. His warm palm circles my tender breasts as he kicks open the bedroom door. Four hours. He rolls my stiff nipples between his skilled fingers. Tomorrow. He drops me on the bed and removes his shirt, peering down at me with his goddamn sexy eyes.

Fucking hell, we can always come back next year.

"Cara!" Julia exclaims, dashing toward me and Milo as we enter the estate. "How I've missed you!"

"You need to find some new friends, Julia," Milo huffs, wrapping his arms around my waist as Gio brings our luggage inside and disappears down the hall with the rest of the men. "Kiara will be very busy from now on. I intend to take up most of her time."

"Shut up little brother and let me give her a hug." Julia yanks my wrist, pulling me into her arms as she sways me back and forth. "How was Milano ? What did you do? Did you go to Castello Sforzesco ? Teatro Alla Scala ? Oh, did he take you to Galleria Vittorio Emanuele ? I love it there, so beautiful."

"Uh—" I stammer, clearing my throat. "He took me to a lot of very magical places."

None of them were outside our hotel room but they were magical.

Otherworldly.

"Hmm." Julia pulls back, frowning as her inspective gaze floats down my body. "You are standing weird, wobbly, what happened to you? Are you sick? Hurt? "

Oh, God. Is that obvious? This is what happens when you try to mimic a contortionist. Idiot. The body is only meant to bend at certain angles. Never again.

Milo expels a knowing chuckle. I shoot him a glare. Fucking deviant.

"No, no!" I let out a nervous laugh, my cheeks burning up. "It was just a long drive."

"Alright," Julia says dubiously. "Well, dinner will be ready at eight. You will join us, no?"

"Of course, she will," Milo interjects, draping his arm around my shoulder and kissing my temple. "Right, Kiara?"

"Right…" I lean into his embrace. Dinner. With the whole family. For the first time. Not a big deal. No big deal. "I'll be there."

"Ah!" Julia claps her hands. "Excellent! I will inform Teresa to set another spot at the table."

"Next to me." Milo meets his sister's surprised expression. "On the right."

Julia blinks. " Are you sure? " she asks in Italian. Did she forget I can understand? "Milo?—"

Milo nods, glancing down at me with a warm smile. "Yes, I am positive . "

I purse my lips, my brows knitted together in confusion. "What's going on? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, cara." Julia presses her lips into a thin line, her bright eyes glinting with approval. "Forget about it. Go get dressed and I'll see you at dinner, yes?"

"Okay..." My gaze darts between the two siblings who seem to be in on the same joke. "See you later, I guess."

"Go go," Julia says, shooing us up the stairs. "I must go get the good wine!"

Am I missing something?

"Care to explain what just happened?" I ask Milo as we make our way up the stairs. "Why is Julia getting the good wine?"

"You are so full of questions, tesoro," Milo chuckles, kissing my knuckles as we round the staircase. "Let your mind relax. Just for a moment."

I let out a grumbled sigh. "It's hard to relax when you speak in code half the time."

"Don't worry," Milo laughs. "Soon you will be fluent in mafia. Give it a few weeks, you will catch on."

"I could catch on much quicker if you just translated for me. What is the significance of me sitting on your right? Tell me."

We stop at the top of the stairs. "It means that I care for you, tesoro," Milo says, brushing my hair behind my ear. "It means you are my woman."

His woman. Officially.

"So, it's like the Mob equivalent of changing your relationship status on Facebook?" A wave of clouded elation washes over me. "Something like that?"

Milo snorts. "Yes, Kiara, something like that."

"Good to know." I nod, biting my lip. Oh, God. This is a monumental step in our relationship. Am I ready? I am, right? A sheen of sweat covers my palms as I let out a small breath. "Is this going to go over well with the others? Or should I expect lots of judgmental stares?"

"Let them stare," Milo says nonchalantly, leading us into my bedroom. I lean against the vanity table as he continues. "The decision is mine, not theirs." He pauses. "And yours, of course." He tilts his head, scanning my antsy face. "This is what you want, is it not?"

When I was attempting to learn Mandarin, I came across the word yuánfèn ; it loosely means fated coincidence or the fate between two people. I believe that I was fated to meet Milo. I was meant to be at the bank when he came in. Our lives were meant to collide.

But there's also a proverb in Mandarin, yǒu yuán wú fèn , which means have fate without destiny. Two people can be fated to meet but are not destined to stay together.

What a depressing proverbial sentiment. Awful, really.

I stare deep into Milo's rich brown eyes and pray to the heavens that our meeting was not some twisted karmic joke. I've lost too many people. There's no one left. I can't lose him too. Like with everything else in my life, this cannot fall apart. It has to last. It needs to transcend chance and circumstance.

Please. Let it last.

"Yes," I whisper, pressing my hand against his chest, his heartbeat reverberating into my palm. "It's what I want."

" Grazie a Dio ," he whispers, grazing his rough thumb along my cheek.

And I do. I thank Him for letting me find beauty in such a peculiar place.

With a smile on his face, Milo arches down, his lips melting against mine as he sucks all the oxygen out of my lungs. His touch filters away the hesitation, the doubts, the what ifs. His kiss deepens and my lungs are full again. Full of air that is pure, tender, devoted. Air that defies all logic and reason. Air that tethers us together. Air that makes me feel safe. Wanted. Cherished. Air that makes me want to keep breathing. That makes me want to keep living. Because I don't feel alone. Not now.

Not when I'm with him.

"Mmm," I hum in bliss, my hand slipping off the vanity table as Milo pulls back. Staggering to the side, I knock over a tray of jewelry. "Shit." I squat down, collecting the rings and necklaces sprawled all over the floor. I frown, tossing the last piece of jewelry into the ceramic bowl, a burst of anxiety gripping my heart. "My grandmother's locket. It's not here."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice," Milo sighs as I stand up. "I was going to wait but—" He folds up a finger. "Give me a moment. I'll be right back."

I cast him a puzzled look. "What? Why?"

"Just stay there, Kiara," Milo says, exiting my room. "Do not move."

Crossing my arms, I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for him to return. What is he up to now?

With his hands behind his back, Milo strides toward me, a sly grin on his face. "Turn around, tesoro."

"Why?"

Milo lets out an exasperated sigh. "Kiara, please, just do as I say."

"Fine." I turn around and face the oval vanity, meeting Milo's gaze in the mirror as he dangles my nana's locket from his fingers. "I can't wear it, Milo, remember?"

"Hold up your hair, tesoro."

"Milo, I'm serious, I'll break out in hives."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Trust me, Kiara. You will be fine."

"I doubt it," I murmur, reluctantly pulling my hair into a bun as Milo clips the locket around my neck. When the icy metal hits my chest, I flinch, peering down at the shiny necklace. "Did you get this cleaned? It looks different."

"I had it dipped in white gold," Milo explains as I twirl the locket in my fingers.

"What?!" I spin around.

"This necklace seemed very important to you, Kiara. I wanted you to be able to wear it. "

"When did you?—"

"Weeks ago."

My eyes gloss over as I clutch the locket in my fist, my grandmother's positive energy coursing through my veins. She's here. With me.

"I can't believe you did this. You—" I bite the inside of my cheek. "This is the last piece of jewelry I have from my grandmother, I had to sell everything else when she died. Milo—" Tears roll down my face. "Thank you."

He frowns, wiping away the influx of joyful tears. "You had to sell everything? I do not understand."

"When my nana died, I got a letter in the mail," I explain, swallowing back the memories. "Apparently, we were living off credit. I didn't know. She told me we were fine, that we had money, but I guess she lied or she forgot, I don't know." I expel a shaky breath. "Her mental health had been deteriorating for years, it got even worse after my grandpa passed away. I wish she told me, she said everything was fine."

Milo pulls me into his arms, resting his chin on top of my head as he consoles me. "Perhaps she did not want to trouble you, Kiara. She did not want to make you worry."

"Probably," I sniffle, nuzzling my head into his chest. "Sounds like Nana Anne."

"Do you have any more debt?" he whispers, stroking my hair. "I will pay it all."

"No." I shake my head, stifling back aching sobs. "I paid it off by selling off most of her belongings. She had a lot of vintage collections. They meant a lot to her, and I sold them. I—I sold everything."

"I'm so sorry, tesoro," Milo hums, his voice raw, gruff, full of empathy. "That must have been very difficult."

"It was." An unfathomable longing tugs at my heart. "God, I miss her. "

He rocks me back and forth. "It will get easier. It takes time, but it will get easier, I promise you."

"Yeah?" I pull back, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "How much time?"

He tucks a damp hair behind my ear as his soft eyes dance across my face. "The pain will never go away, Kiara, but you will learn to live with it. And in time, that pain will be a blessing, not a burden. It will make you stronger." I hiccup as he continues, "When a bone is broken, the place in which it heals becomes the strongest part."

"Is that why you're so strong?" I whisper. "Because you've been broken?"

"We are all broken, tesoro. Every single person. But some people ignore the pain and never heal. You must acknowledge your wounds, for they are a part of you. Forever."

"I get that—" I nod my head, taking in his wise words. "But sometimes it's easier to ignore the pain than address it."

"I know. But we must try, otherwise, we die long before we are dead."

"Wow." I sniffle, giving him a small smile. "My dad would've really liked you."

"He would?" Milo perks a brow. "Why?"

I shake my head, letting out a soft chuckle. "He was also an optimist."

"Can you please relay that message to my sister?" Milo laughs, kissing my forehead. "She is convinced I am full of negative energy. She once bought sage to cleanse my aura."

I stifle a snort. "I think an exorcism would be more fruitful."

"Is that so?" Milo casts me a playful grin. "Do you believe I am possessed?"

"Only sometimes. "

"Fair…" Milo purses his lips. "I suppose life is all about balance, no?"

I let out a deep breath. "Yeah. All about balance."

After a moment of comfortable silence, Milo asks, "Do you still want to join us for dinner?"

"Yes," I state with absolute certainty. "I do."

"Alright, I will let you change." He pauses, hesitating for a second as he stares at me.

"What?"

He clears his throat. "I personally believe you look beautiful all the time; however, you might want to touch up your make-up. It is a bit smudged."

I spin around, my eyes widening as I look at my reflection. "Oh, God. I need to buy waterproof mascara."

Milo hugs me from behind. "Nonsense. I will simply have to ensure that you do not cry anymore."

I lean back into his arms. "That might be a challenge. I tend to cry a lot."

"I will fix that. No more tears, tesoro. Be happy."

"I am. I really am."

"Good." Milo kisses the top of my head. "I'll meet you in the dining room. Don't be late."

I toss him a scowl as he walks away. "I am never late."

"I know," he grins, exiting my room. "But you are so cute when you frown."

I roll my eyes, waving him off as I face the mirror. Despite the dried mascara on my cheeks and my bloodshot eyes, the woman looking back at me looks...happy.

Today I choose happiness. I get to decide how I feel. I will not be ruled by my past. I will not let the future scare me. Today I will live in the present, for it is a gift.

With one final glance at my Nana's locket, I suck in a solidifying breath and get dressed, slipping on a black cocktail dress and a pair of chunky heels. If the family is going to stare at me, I might as well give them something stunning to look at.

Twenty minutes later, I emerge in the dining room, the large banquet table covered in wine, antipasto, and rustic floral centerpieces. Milo and Paolo sit at the head of the table, Marchello, Gio, Matteo, Julia, Luisa, and a few others filling in the holes.

I smile at everyone as I straighten my shoulders and walk toward the empty chair on Milo's right. The eyes of the family follow me, quiet murmurs slipping from their tongues. I don't let their whispers faze me.

Today, I choose happiness.

"You look lovely." Milo places his hand on my thigh as I sit down. "Would you like some wine?"

I keep my voice low as I glance around the table. "I'd like a lot of wine."

Gio and Matteo are immersed in a deep conversation about football. Luisa and Paolo are divvying up the appetizers. Julia is grinning at me like a kid hopped up on sugar.

Oh goodness. She's way too excited.

Marchello clears his throat, drawing my attention across the table. He eyes me with a tight-lipped smile as he lifts up his glass.

"To the future," he says, nodding his head. "To Santi Oscuri."

The entire table repeats his words, toasting to the future. To the mafia. To the uncertain times ahead.

I join in.

Toasting to my future.

As a part of their world.