34. Tidal Waves

Chapter 34

Tidal Waves

I'm in a dream right now.

White sand stretches as far as the eye can see. Frothy crests of aquamarine waves break on the beach and ebb away. Tranquil silence surrounds me as I dig my heels into the warmth of the fine-grained sand, the sun beating down on my face, my body, seeping into my pores.

I know this is a dream because I've had it hundreds of times. I sit in the same spot, on the same beach, staring out into the same ocean. But the sensation of peace that thrums through my veins as I watch the waves crash never lasts.

It's a mirage, an illusion, a delusion .

The wind will pick up and the waves will get larger, stronger, faster. They will charge at me like aquatic warriors, gaining confidence, bravado with every gust, every tremble of land.

In the distance, I'll see a wave that looks like a mountain, like moving earth. It'll taunt me, it'll get higher and closer, and then it'll wash me away.

It'll drown me. It'll leave me breathless. It'll kill me. It always does .

Except for today.

I've been here for hours, for days, maybe even years and there's no tidal wave. My body feels so warm, so safe, so fucking calm. The hot, humid air, it's hugging me, enveloping my entire being in an embrace. The gentle cool breeze is whispering in my ear that it loves me, that it treasures me, that it's never going to betray me.

It takes only a second of consciousness for me to realize that it's not the air that's keeping me warm, but his arms. It's not the wind that's breathing adoration into my lungs, but his words. And it's not the deserted island that's keeping me safe, comfortable, at peace – it's him.

I roll over in his arms, the bright glow of the moon illuminating the sharp edge of his jaw, his cheekbones, the slope of his neck. He's here. He's my island. My refuge. A shield from the storm.

"I can feel you staring at me," Milo whispers, his eyelids fluttering open, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"What time is it?" I ask, my vision adjusting to the dark. "When did you get here?"

"It's 4 a.m." Milo feathers his fingers across my arm. "Go back to sleep, Kiara. Close your eyes."

"You didn't wake me up…" I run my hand down the sculpted ridges of his bare chest. "You should've woken me up."

"Clearly I did," he murmurs, cupping my face in his hand, his thumb grazing my lips. His gaze flickers across my shadowed, flustered face. "Go back to sleep, Kiara."

"No." I shake my head, my chest rising with need as I mold my body against his, my breasts spilling out of my nightgown. "I don't want to sleep."

"What do you want?" His knowing dark eyes float down to my parted lips. "Use your words," he whispers as I find his hand and guide it to my sex. His fingers curl under my panties, feathering my wet folds. "Kiara?—"

"I want to feel you," I breathe, closing my eyes as he rolls on top of me, his growing erection grazing my midsection. I release his cock, stroking the hard length of his smooth shaft. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, grasping the hem of my nighty and slipping it off my body in one swift motion. He rips off my panties and tosses them aside. Looking down, he studies every inch of my naked body, his gaze predatory, protective, promising. A total contradiction. He wants to destroy me and save me. Protect me and harm me. Fuck me and make love to me. All at the same fucking time. And I want it too.

I want his chaos.

"Milo," I whine impatiently.

My desperate plea is all it takes for his lips to claim mine. Our tongues collide and we feast upon each other, starved, deprived, damn near feral. He coils his fingers around my wrists, pinning my hands over my head. His knee parts my thighs as he captures my nipples in his mouth, his teeth biting at the tender peaks. I moan, writhing under his touch.

"Do you forgive me, tesoro?" he rasps into my ear, teasing my clit, dipping only the tip of his fingers inside me. "Tell me that you forgive me."

"Yes," I whimper, lifting my hips to the heel of his hand, rocking my pelvis into his touch, my pussy aching to be full, touched, fucked. "I do."

"Good." A gust of relief slips past his lips. "On top." He pinches my nipples between his fingers as I straddle him, rubbing my sex against his cock. "I want to watch you."

He grabs the base of his shaft, keeping it steady as I ease myself down on him. It hurts so fucking good as he fills me to the hilt, stretching my walls, snapping the barrier that's kept us apart for too goddamn long. His eyes never leave mine as he thrusts, spearing his cock deeper inside my clenching pussy.

Crying out in pleasure, I lean back, grabbing his ankles as I ride him, feel him, savor him. God, how I've missed him. I missed being close to him, not just in proximity but in spirit, in fucking soul. He's inside of me. A part of me. We are one.

A chaotic, catastrophic, cathartic fucking being.

As his thumb circles my clit, as my moans fill the air, as his possessive grip on my hips tightens, I feel whole. I feel complete. The shards of broken self, of broken morals, of broken hearts, they slowly mend together, one powerful thrust at a time. One piece, two, three. All the lies, all the doubt, all the hesitation, they slip away, they vanish, replaced by trust, faith, and blissful hope.

"Look at me," he growls, his voice strained. "Look at me, Kiara." I stare down at him, and I see it. I see it so fucking clearly. He grabs my waist, locking me in place as he thrusts sharply inside me. "I fucking love you. You're fucking mine." I close my eyes, on the brink of ecstatic release. "Say it!"

"I'm yours," I choke out, my whole body violently shaking as I come undone. "I'm yours."

With a guttural groan, Milo finds his release, pulling me flush against his sticky chest. "I love you."

Unable to keep my eyes open or form coherent words, I simply nod. Unable or unwilling? It's right there. On the tip of my tongue. Just say it. For fuck sakes, say it!

"I know," I hum, hating myself for being so weak. "I know."

I love you too.

Crouching down by the side of the bed, I rest my head on the edge of the mattress. "Hey," I whisper, caressing Milo's cheek. "Wake up, we need to go downstairs."

He stirs, opening his eyes, a low, sleepy groan escaping his lips. "Or we can stay in bed," he says in a suggestive tone. "Come here."

I chuckle, standing up and crossing my arms. "Get up," I demand, tilting my head. "Julia won't let Natalia open any presents until we're all together. Your niece is about ten minutes away from a full-blown temper tantrum."

Milo pouts. "But it's Christmas, Kiara. A day of giving." He peers down at his half-erect penis. "What am I to do? I need help."

"Mind over matter, baby." I grab a pile of clothes off the foot of the bed and toss it to him. "Get dressed. You have two minutes."

Milo scowls, propping himself up and slipping on a black shirt. "You are very bossy this morning, tesoro." He climbs out of bed, his dick on full display. I blush, pressing my lips into a thin line as my throat dries. He smirks, cocking his head. "Mind over matter, baby ."

"Shut up and put some fucking pants on."

Milo laughs as he slides on a pair of briefs and jeans. "Your loss, gattina."

I roll my eyes, chucking him his watch. He slips it over his wrist. "Okay, let's go." He yawns, wrapping his arm over my shoulder as we head downstairs. "Are you still tired?"

"Yes." He squeezes his eyelids open and shut. "I need an espresso."

"Yeah, you had a long day yesterday." I bite my lip as we round the staircase. "How did everything go in Milan by the way? Any problems?"

"Surprisingly no. I thought Nico would fuck something up, but everything is going according to plan. My associates in Moscow are ready to go on our command."

"When are you doing it?" I whisper, swallowing back unease. "You said before the new year, right?"

"New Year's Eve," Milo reveals, unbothered by the fact he's going to murder someone. "Igor is hosting a party, we will do it then. Their arms warehouse will be unmanned. It is the perfect opportunity. How is it you Americans put it? Two birds, one stone?"

"That's a really big stone," I murmur in a low hum. "Are you sure this is a good idea? What if they try to retaliate? What if it gets worse? How do you know this will put an end to all of this?"

Milo stops us at the bottom of the staircase. He cups my cheek, meeting my worried eyes. " Pravda is not a very organized faction of the brotherhood. They are reckless and arrogant. Without Igor, they will not be able to remain in power." He strokes my hair, placing a soft kiss on my lips. "Do not worry, tesoro, they will not be a problem anymore."

I blow out a slow exhale, leaning into his touch. "You're confident? I don't want you to get hurt."

"Yes, Kiara, I am confident." He links his fingers through mine. "Let's not think about this today, yes?"

"Okay," I hum as we follow the whimpering cries of Natalia into the living room.

"Talia!" Milo exclaims, holding out his arms. "Buon Natale, mia principessa. Why are you crying?"

"Zio!" Natalia darts toward us, her baby pink dress bouncing with every step. "Mamma won't let me open my presents! "

My gaze darts to Julia who's already sipping on a glass of white wine. "Do not judge me, cara," she states in a sour tone. "You did not give birth to a demon child."

Paolo comes up behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Julia, smile, baby, it's Christmas." He kisses her neck. "Relax, please?"

Antonia claps her hands, drawing our attention. "I think it is time to put Talia out of her misery." She looks at her granddaughter. "You may now open your gifts."

Natalia screeches, stumbling toward the fourteen-foot-tall Christmas tree by the fireplace. Teresa saunters into the room with a tray of espresso and a glass of wine. "Buon Natale," she says to me and Milo before walking to Julia.

"She will be wasted by ten," Milo notes with a soft laugh, taking a seat next to his mother on the couch. He gives her a kiss on the cheek. "How many glasses has she had?"

Antonia scowls. "Too many." She peers up at me. "Do you drink, Kiara?"

I blink, taking a sip of coffee. "I do."

"In the morning? Before breakfast?" Antonia adds, sighing, "Lord save my daughter."

" Mamma ," Milo says in a drawn-out playful tone. "It could be worse; she could be snorting cocaine."

Antonia gasps as she slaps Milo's knee. "Stop that. Dio mio, Emilio. Natalia is right there." She lets out a shaky breath. "I raised animals. Both of you."

Milo cranes his neck toward me, tossing me a wink. "Yes, I am an animal, aren't I?"

My jaw drops. In front of his mother?! "I think I need some cream, if you'll excuse me."

"I will go with you," Milo offers and I cast him a hardened glare. "On second thought, I will stay here. "

"Good idea." Christmas with the Di Vaio's. Definitely not normal. Turning the corner toward the kitchen, I bump into Marchello and Luisa. "Good morning, Luisa." I give her a hug. Glancing over her shoulder, I smile at her father. "Merry Christmas, Marchello."

"To you too, Kiara," he says with a warm smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "It is nice that we are all together."

"Yes, the whole family under one roof, it doesn't happen very often," Luisa notes with a sly smirk. "And maybe today we will celebrate more than just Christmas? Hmm, Kiara?"

I shrug, casting her a knowing smile. "Maybe."

She beams. "Really?!"

"Luisa," Marchello says, keeping his tone level as he tugs on his daughter's arm. "You can talk later; we should go see Milo. You can give him your gift."

Luisa subtly rolls her eyes. "Of course, papà."

"I'll see you in a minute," I say, choosing not to be affected by Marchello's lack of enthusiasm.

"How many presents did you guys get her?" I scan the once visible hardwood floor which is now covered with shredded wrapping paper, bows, and toys. "Don't you think you're spoiling her a bit?"

Milo chuckles, kissing my temple. "Are you jealous, tesoro? Do you wish to be spoiled?"

"Yeah, I'm jealous of a three-year-old," I jeer, giving him a slight shove. "But seriously, it's been like two hours and she's still opening gifts? Seems a bit over the top."

"Perhaps." Milo shrugs, gazing at Julia and Paolo who are on the floor trying to help Natalia put together a toy. "But look how happy she is. "

I roll my eyes. "I'm just saying, our children would get like a maximum of ten presents. Anything more than that is just absurd."

Milo whips his head toward me, a grin on his face. " Our children?"

Shit. I clear my throat. "It's a figure of speech."

"A very telling figure of speech." Milo smirks as he stands up. "I think it is time for your present, tesoro. Come with me."

"What?" I flap my arms. "I thought we weren't doing gifts! Milo..." Great. Fuck sakes. I knew I should've gotten him something.

Ignoring my frazzled expression, he looks around the room, nodding at his underboss. "We will be back shortly."

Marchello smiles, pulling out his phone. "Lunch will be served soon, do not be long."

Without another word, Milo grabs my hand and drags me down the hallway. "Close your eyes, Kiara." I frown, pursing my lips. "Please?"

I grumble, begrudgingly following his instructions. "Fine."

"Are you not a fan of surprises?" he laughs, guiding me down the hall.

"Not really."

"I think you will like this one." He leads me through a creaking door and positions me in the center of the mystery room. "Do not peek."

"Where are we?" I open my right eye just a crack. "It's really dark in here."

Milo clicks his tongue. "You are peeking."

"No, I'm not," I lie. "I'm just very intuitive."

Milo snorts, letting go of my hand. "You can open your eyes in twenty seconds, yes?" I nod. "I will be right back. "

"Wait! What? Where are you going?"

"Trust me." His voice is faint as he walks away from me. "Start counting."

I let out a sharp breath, crossing my arms as I count down from twenty out loud, a faint electrical buzz sounding from afar.

What the fuck is going on?

"Alright," Milo says, appearing by my side. "Open."

As soon as my eyelids flutter open, my heart stops, and I let out a loud gasp. Nana . "Oh my God." At the front of the dark room, dressed in her iconic baby blue pleated skirt and cloche hat, is my grandmother. She's pixelated, but she's there. Nana Anne. And she's smiling at me. She's looking at me. Holy shit. "Milo, what did you do?"

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," Nana says, her comforting, angelic voice immediately forcing my eyes to well up with tears. I grip my chest, my knees weak as I'm flooded with emotions. She looks so real. So fucking real. Her voice. Her hair. Her mannerisms. It's her. It's Nana. Oh my God. "I miss you so much, Kiara, every day." She tilts her head, her soft green eyes piercing my soul as tears roll down my face. Milo laces his fingers through mine as I stare in awe at the hologram. "My wish this Christmas is for you to never stop dreaming. Do not limit yourself to the familiar, Kiara, instead embrace the unknown. All God's children were given wings. Use yours, sweetheart. Fly. Fly like a bluebird."

"She's said this to me before," I mumble under my breath, my heart beating in my chest, my grip tightening around Milo's hand. "This is from?—"

"Whenever you are feeling sad, Kiara, simply remember that—" Nana pauses, taking a deep breath as familiar instrumental music flows from the hidden speakers. How did he do this? How did he—Nana opens her mouth and starts singing Over the Rainbow .

"Oh my God. How did you do this? Milo—" I gasp for breath. "Oh my God."

Milo stays silent as my grandmother sings me a song from my favorite movie. When I was little, I wanted so badly to be Dorothy. I wanted to escape my life, the pain of losing my parents, the darkness of reality.

I wanted magic, adventure, color .

Nana claps her hands, grinning at me. "You're a bluebird, Kiara. Just spread your wings and don't be afraid to fly." She takes a small breath. "I love you sweetheart, Merry Christmas."

And she vanishes.

"Holy shit," I hum as soft lights turn on and I realize we're in the theater.

He glides his thumb across my wet cheek. "Please tell me those are happy tears, tesoro."

"How did you do that?" I ask, glancing back to the front of the room. "She looked so real, she sounded so real. What she said I— It was her."

"I had some of my men visit your home in Hawthorne, they collected old VHS footage of your grandmother and a few cards she's written to you over the years," he explains, cupping my face. "I wanted to give you something authentic."

That was authentic all right.

"You broke into my house?" I ask, hiccupping. "That's very illegal."

"Are you upset with me?" Milo asks, a small frown marring his brows.

"No," I fan myself as a wide smile spreads on my face. " I'm not upset. This was—" I shake my head. "This was the best gift I've ever received. I can't believe you did this."

"Your grandmother meant a lot to you." He caresses my hand, his honest gaze flickering around my face. "And you mean a lot to me. Kiara—" He sinks down on one knee and produces a velvet box from his pocket. My heart hammers in my chest as he opens the baby blue box, a teardrop diamond ring glistening in the center. "From the moment I saw you, I knew I would fall in love with you. You are a remarkable woman, Kiara, and I want to spend the rest of my life by your side. Will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"I think I knew too." I kneel down in front of him, resolution coursing through my veins like liquid gold. "Milo—" Caressing his cheek, I scan his beautifully vulnerable face. I'm not scared anymore. I'm not frightened. This is right. This is fate. "Milo, I lo?—"

"Emilio!" The door swings open and Gio barges inside, his eyes wide with shock. "You need to come with me right now!"

Milo's jaw clenches as he shoots daggers at Gio. "We are in the middle of something, can you not see? Fucking idiot!"

"Milo, now ," Gio says unapologetically.

Milo's posture harden as we stand up. "What is happening? Tell me."

"Come," Gio says, his body language tense as Milo grabs my hand and we follow him down the hallway.

"This better be important," Milo grunts. "Fucking unbelievable."

"Yeah—" I pause, frowning as Gio opens the front door for us. "Where are we going?"

He doesn't reply.

A sick feeling creeps into the pit of my stomach as we walk down to the front of the estate. What is going on?! The nausea intensifies as I scan all the family members huddled around the brass gates. Julia looks at me, her expression more distraught than Gio's.

"What is happening?" Milo asks as we approach the hordes of white faces.

"Milo," Julia whispers, casting me a sympathetic look as everyone clears the way for us. Once the path is empty, all the color washes out of Milo's face and he drops my hand, staggering backward. "Milo, breathe, please."

I whip my head around, following his sightline. On the dampened ground, wrapped in a tattered fur jacket is a red-headed woman. She snaps her head up, her hazel eyes locked on Milo.

"No," Milo breathes, covering his mouth. "This cannot be."

"Who is sh?—"

The redheaded woman scrambles toward Milo, her painted lips teetering between a frown and a smile. She throws herself into his arms.

Oh God, is that?—

"Amore mio!"

My love? Oh, no.

No. No. No. No. No.

This isn't happening. How is this happening?

Milo's hands hover above her back for ten agonizing seconds until he slowly, so fucking slowly lowers them. No. Please no. As he tightens his arms around her waist, it's like he's choking me, killing me, drowning me.

I was mistaken. I was so fucking wrong.

There's always a tidal wave.

Always.