MILO

by E.L. Lewis

"I want to use you for a lot of things, Kiara, but yes, translating is one of them."

"I don't know? Am I?" I give him an innocent shrug. "Maybe Milo should check the security footage."

"If I were playing a game, Mr. Di Vaio. I believe this would be checkmate."

"Oh, one last question⁠—" "What?" he snaps, peering up at me. I tilt my head, tone flirty and coy, "Are you a virgin?" He smirks, letting out a smoky chuckle. "Goodbye, Kiara." A beat. "And please, do not fuck any more of my guards."

"The devil is not as black as he is painted." Don't fold the pages, Kiara. –Milo

Knight to F3. A little Sicilian defense. Why not?

"Do you know the saying; curiosity killed the cat? It might be an overused adage, but it holds some merit, don't you think?"

But satisfaction brought it back

"Wear something red." "Red?" "Yes," he smirks. "It would please me." I toss him a sweet smile. "Of course, Mr. Di Vaio. I aim to please." I'm wearing fucking black.

I fucking love her 🤣🤣

Why did he— Realization dawns on me. Oh... He didn't really think that one through, did he?

Lmfao!!!!

Fuck Cleopatra. Next time I'll channel Julia.

I wanted him to take me, do unspeakable things to my willing body, show me just how powerful he can be. I wanted him to corrupt me, destroy me, put us both out of our goddamn fucking misery.

"There are sculptors around the world, Kiara,"

"That would die a thousand deaths just to have you as their muse."

"Exactly,” he whispers. “Because you are a good person, tesoro. You are a kind, caring woman who chose to help a monster like me. Because at that moment, you did not see a criminal, Kiara. You saw a human. And that is still what I am."

"Kiara, there is no going back if you do this." His voice is gruff, hoarse, taunting. "You will be mine. Only mine. Do you understand?"

"I mean I did have the weight of your inflated ego resting on my shoulder for two hours,"

"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.

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.

"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."

Love isn't a cure. It's a disease. It's a sickness. It hurts. It kills. It's painful.

"Kiara—" She cocks her head to the side, a small grin on her face. "You called Milo a piece of shit and a fucking asshole in front of ten armed men. Do I need to say more?"

"More women need to get mad. That is how change happens."

I love him.

Sleep is the enemy and literature is the savior. Trading nightmares for literary escape is something that I'm used to. It’s familiar, it's comforting. A book has an ending, a conclusion, it's there, on the last page. Will she, or won't she? Books are simple. Beginning, middle, end.

"When we open our hearts, we allow pain to enter, and when it does, we tell ourselves never again.

Until the water subsides, and the debris is cleared, it is difficult to see the damage caused by a tidal wave.

"Sei la cosa più bella che mi sia mai capitata. Ti amo, Kiara."

"The devil is not as black as he is painted."

"Pressure makes diamonds, tesoro, and our child will shine brighter than the burning sun."

The blood coursing through my veins is historic, ancient. I am a vessel that carries the life, the memories, the love of my family. I am my nana. I am my grandpa. I am my mom. I am my dad.

A mortal man does not stand a chance against a deity, but for my angel, my treasure, I would raise the servants of hell to keep her beside me. I would sell every ounce of my soul to the devil himself if it meant that she would stay.