Chapter Twenty-Three

Angelo gazed at Milo’s face, flushed and glowing with satisfaction, his soft lips parted as he caught his breath. In the dim lamplight, Milo’s fair skin seemed to glow like polished marble. Angelo reached out to tenderly brush a stray lock of ash-blond hair from Milo’s forehead, marveling at how such delicate beauty had found its way into his world.

As he studied the gentle curves of Milo’s face, the innocence in his hazel eyes even after all he’d endured, Angelo felt a profound shift within himself. This wasn’t just physical release, some animalistic rutting to sate base desires. What they had just shared was something deeper, more sacred—Milo’s complete submission not forced but gifted freely.

He traced the line of Milo’s jaw with the pad of his thumb, tender where he had been rough before, possessive where he had been indifferent. Milo was his to cherish now, his to shield from the world’s cruelties. Angelo silently vowed to himself that he would make up for the past, somehow.

Hesitantly, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Milo’s in a tender kiss. A tremor ran through Angelo’s body at the simple, chaste contact. His mind whirled with a torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Kissing another man felt…strange. Unfamiliar. Yet at the same time, it felt intensely right when it was Milo. He searched himself, trying to understand why.

Part of him clung to the idea that it was just Milo, that soft, pretty face and those trusting hazel eyes that had undone him. But another part wondered if this revelation meant he was…gay. The word didn’t feel right. Still, as Milo gazed up at him with a blissful smile, Angelo found he didn’t care about that. What mattered was this, the way Milo made his heart swell with fierce tenderness.

Pushing the intrusive thoughts aside, Angelo stroked Milo’s flushed cheek reverently. He would make this work, no matter what. If the world turned on him for this relationship, so be it. Angelo would cut them all down without hesitation to protect what he now held most precious.

As if could tell the dark turn of Angelo’s thoughts, Milo placed his hand over Angelo’s in a comforting gesture. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

A heavy silence stretched between them as Angelo struggled to find the words. How could he explain the thoughts swirling in his mind without shattering this fragile moment?

Finally, he exhaled a weary sigh. “You deserve so much more than what I can give you.” His thumb stroked Milo’s flushed cheekbone almost reverently. “My life back in Colombia, it’s a world away from what you’re used to. Harsh. Unforgiving.”

Milo opened his mouth to protest, but Angelo pressed a finger to those soft lips to silence him.

“Let me finish,” he murmured. “I can’t give you riches. I’ve seen where you come from. But if you come with me, I’ll never let you go again. I’ll protect you, keep you safe from anything.” His broad palm cradled Milo’s cheek, calloused thumb brushing the delicate skin with infinite tenderness. “Do you want that, princesa? Can you trust me, after everything? I swear on my life, no harm will ever come to you as long as I draw breath.”

Angelo held his breath as the silence stretched between them, his heart pounding in his ears. Every fiber of his being tensed, bracing for the possibility that Milo would reject his offer, that this beautiful dream they had woven would unravel.

Then Milo’s slender arms wound around Angelo’s neck, drawing their bodies flush. Angelo exhaled a tremulous sigh of relief as Milo beamed up at him, those hazel eyes sparkling with adoration.

“I can’t imagine any life without you in it now, Angelo,” Milo confessed, his voice warm with affection. “Even if I could have everything the way it was before, it wouldn’t be the life I want. Not if you weren’t there. It doesn”t matter how much money we have, where we live, any of that.” A soft laugh escaped his lips. “I fell in love with you in a hellhole. As long as I’m with you, any other life would be heavenly in comparison.”

Angelo’s breath caught. He cupped Milo’s face in his broad palms, hardly daring to believe this wasn’t all an exquisite dream. After so much violence and depravity, so many years of ruthless self-preservation, he had been gifted this remarkable second chance at tenderness.

Gratitude and wonder swelled in Angelo’s chest as he studied every delicate curve of Milo’s features—those soft lips, the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, the thick fan of dark lashes framing eyes bright with devotion.

“I’m leaving for Colombia at dawn,” Angelo said, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. He reached for Milo’s hand, calloused fingers stroking the soft skin. “Come with me, princesa. Let me give you the life I can, far away from all this.”

Milo’s eyes widened, lips parting in a soft exhale. Angelo could practically see the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions flickering across the younger man’s features.

“Are you sure?” Milo asked at last, his voice hushed. “I want it, but I don’t want to put you at risk.”

Relief washed over Angelo at the clear longing in Milo’s tone, the way he hadn’t outright rejected the idea. He squeezed Milo’s hand reassuringly.

“You’re the only risk I care about now,” he murmured. His free hand came up to cradle Milo’s cheek, thumb brushing reverently over those delicate features. “Say you’ll come with me.”

Milo leaned into Angelo’s touch, those thick lashes fluttering closed as he let out a shuddering breath. When his eyes opened again, they shone with determination and tenderness.

“Yes,” he breathed, covering Angelo’s hand with his own. “Please, Angelo. Take me with you. I can’t bear being apart again.”

Angelo’s chest flooded with a profound sense of relief and joy, tension seeping from his shoulders. He tugged Milo into a fierce embrace, face buried in those soft ashen locks as he inhaled the comforting scent. “Gracias a Dios,” he murmured fervently against Milo’s hair.

Pulling back, Angelo cradled Milo’s face in his broad palms, heart swelling at the devotion and trust in those beloved hazel eyes. Unable to resist a moment longer, he captured Milo’s lips for a kiss. God, how stupid he had been to think that kissing Milo would be wrong. It was the most right thing in the world.

Angelo rested his forehead against Milo’s, savoring the simple intimacy.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

Milo whispered back, “I can’t wait.”

***

Angelo strode across the tarmac, Milo’s hand clutched tightly in his own. The first blush of dawn was just beginning to paint the horizon in pinks and golds as they approached the waiting plane. Angelo could make out several people loading up the plane and two more figures standing beside it apparently arguing, their voices carrying across the empty airstrip.

As they drew closer, Angelo recognized the burly form of Carlos Hernandez, his broad shoulders taut with tension. Across from him stood a slim man in a garishly bright Hawaiian shirt, gesticulating wildly with slender hands. Angelo’s lips twitched in amusement. It was Zee, Carlos’s not-so-secret lover and obviously their pilot for the flight.

“I’m just saying, it’s not gonna kill you to take a vacation once in a while!” Zee’s voice rang out, undaunted by the glower on Carlos’s face. “Even big bad cartel lieutenants need a little RR, you know?”

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like a man praying for patience. “Zee, I swear to God—”

Angelo cleared his throat pointedly, cutting off the impending tirade. Both men turned at the sound, Carlos’s scowl morphing into a look of surprise as he took in Angelo and Milo’s joined hands. Angelo steeled himself, bracing for Carlos’s displeasure at the unexpected addition to their party. He knew bringing an outsider into the heart of the cartel’s operations was a massive breach of protocol. But as Carlos’s piercing gaze flicked between Angelo and Milo, assessing, Angelo refused to back down.

He straightened his shoulders, meeting Carlos’s stare head on. “This is Milo,” Angelo said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I want him to come with us to Colombia.”

Silence stretched between them, the air thick with tension. Out of the corner of his eye, Angelo saw Zee shift restlessly, no doubt scenting a potential blowup. But Carlos simply stared at Angelo a moment longer before his lips quirked in a sardonic smirk.

“Does he have a passport?” he asked dryly.

Relief washed over Angelo in a warm wave. He let out the breath he’d been holding, the tight knot of worry in his chest loosening.

Stepping forward, Angelo pulled Carlos into a rough, backslapping embrace. “Gracias, hermano,” he murmured lowly into the other man’s ear. “You don’t know what this means.”

Carlos’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle as they separated. “I think I’ve got some idea,” he said wryly, dark eyes sliding to Milo with an unreadable look. “Just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Angelo followed his gaze, watching as Milo stood slightly apart, radiating nervous energy. At Carlos’s words, Milo’s eyes flicked up, locking with Angelo’s. A hesitant smile tugged at those soft, pink lips, and Angelo felt his heart kick up a notch in his chest.

Clearing his throat, he forced himself to turn back to Carlos. “I do,” he said simply.

Zee, who had been watching the exchange with undisguised curiosity, suddenly burst into a wide grin. He bounded forward, seizing Milo’s hand and pumping it enthusiastically.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous!” he crowed, waggling his eyebrows. “Zee Dillinger, at your service. Welcome aboard this fine aircraft, courtesy of yours truly and the kind folks at Los Lagos Airlines.”

Milo seemed delighted. “Oh! Thank you,” he said, smiling tentatively.

“Now, there’s no in-flight movie,” Zee went on, clearly warming to the bit. “But there are snacks, and the view is incredible,” he added, casting a suggestive look at Carlos that swung around to encompass Angelo as well. As if to make sure Milo got it, Zee waggled his eyebrows.

“Zee!” Carlos barked. “We talked about this.”

Zee sighed and made a wild gesture. “Oh come on. It’s just Angelo and his ‘friend’,” he said, turning to Angelo. “Hey Angelo. Good to see you! I see prison made your muscles swell up to twice their normal size. Go you.”

“Get in the plane,” Carlos growled and Zee, apparently sensing the end of his patience, disappeared to presumably do exactly that.

Angelo met Carlos’s eye and raised an eyebrow. “Zee hasn’t changed.”

Carlos made a sound of frustration. “I’ll kill him one day,” he said, but his tone was fond. “Go on, you two. We’re on a schedule.”

Angelo ushered Milo towards the boarding ramp, his hand resting lightly on the small of Milo’s back as he guided him to a pair of plush leather seats. Milo slid into the window seat, Angelo bracketing him in. He drank in the sight of Milo, backlit by the pale morning light filtering through the window. Milo’s ash blonde hair seemed to glow like a halo, those long dark lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he gazed out at the tarmac. Angelo’s chest clenched at the soft, pensive look on Milo’s face, at the full bow of those pink lips slightly parted. God, he was lovely. So delicate and fine-boned, like one of those precious porcelain figurines the rich seemed to covet.

As they sat in silence, the hum of the plane’s engines building around them, Angelo couldn’t help but glance at Milo’s hand, resting on his lap. He longed to reach out and intertwine their fingers, to offer comfort and reassurance. But instead, he clenched his own hands together, trying to suppress the urge.

“Will everything be okay?” Milo asked, his voice barely audible over the noise.

Angelo wanted nothing more than to tell Milo that everything would be perfect, that they were heading towards a safe haven where they could be free to love each other without fear. But the truth was far more complicated.

“I don’t know,” Angelo admitted finally, his voice low and filled with emotion. “But I’ll keep you safe.”

Milo offered a small smile, his expression grateful, but Angelo could see the worry in his eyes.

I will keep you safe,Angelo vowed inwardly, his gaze locked on Milo’s serene expression. He imagined their future together. The thought of spending the rest of his days with Milo brought on a fierce determination within him.

“Ready for takeoff?” he asked.

Milo looked up at him, a slight smile playing on his lips. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

As the plane began taxiing down the runway, the roar of the engines filled the cabin, drowning out all other sounds. Angelo felt the weight of his decision settle on his shoulders. There was no turning back now; he had committed them both to a life fraught with danger and uncertainty. But he refused to let fear dictate their future.

Angelo surreptitiously glanced around the cabin, ensuring no one was paying attention to them. Then he cautiously reached out, sliding his fingers between Milo’s and squeezing gently. To his relief, Milo squeezed back just as firmly, their intertwined hands warm and tight.

“Fuck, I’m nervous,” Milo confessed, gripping Angelo’s hand tightly. “But having you here makes it bearable.”

“Me too,” Angelo replied, his voice thick. “Whatever happens, I’ll be right there with you, okay?”

“Okay.” Milo’s eyes shimmered with both fear and love, and in that moment, Angelo knew he’d made the right choice. Milo was here with him, and Angelo would do whatever it took to protect him.