MILO

by E.L. Lewis

"So, you want to use me as your own personal Google translator?" He smirks. "I want to use you for a lot of things, Kiara, but yes, translating is one of them."

"Kiara…” He cups my chin, tilting my head up. His expression softens. "I do not mean to frighten you."

"Hilarious. Do I get to see your background check?" "Now that is hilarious.”

"Did Milo ask you to ask me if I'm a virgin?" "No." I click my tongue, shaking my head. "Are you lying to me?" "No. I am not." "Mhmm.” I narrow my eyes. "Would you tell me if you were lying?" "No," he states, a ghost of a smile on his face. "I would not."

"My previous gynecologist told me I only have a 4.4 percent chance of getting pregnant, those aren't great odds so no, I'm not on birth control."

"A car accident. I was the only survivor."

"Kiara…” His eyes darken. "Do not play games with me." "If I were playing a game, Mr. Di Vaio. I believe this would be checkmate."

"This is not a matter of brain—" His hungry eyes dance across my chest. "But of body." "I know my body, Mr. Di Vaio," I say, instinctively biting my lip as I press my palm against his hard chest. "You'd be shocked by the things it can do."

"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

"Can we go back to the range?" I ask in a cutesy tone, batting my eyelashes.

"Please?" Gio lets out a defeated breath, taking a step closer to me. Perhaps flirting to get my way isn't the most appropriate course of action but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. "One more round.” His eyes gleam with heat for a second before his gaze darts over my shoulder and he freezes, the fire dying out, replaced by fear.

I whip my body around to find Milo leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his black t-shirt, light grey sweatpants hanging off his hips, his dark eyes hardened, glaring at Gio. "I will take it from here.” Milo hefts off the door and flicks two fingers in the air. The gym empties within seconds, doors slamming as his men clear the room. Shit.

"No, sweetheart," he rasps. "You don't." But I do. I really fucking do.

"I would've been able to explore it the first time around if someone didn't drug me,"

"It was not intentional.”

"Tread lightly, Kiara. I can be quite sensitive at times." I laugh at the absurdity of his statement. "Apologies, I momentarily forgot how fragile a man's ego can be."

"That is the opposite of treading lightly. You are not very obedient, are you?" I tilt my head. "I can be very obedient, Mr. Di Vaio. Depends on the circumstance."

"Whatever she wants.” Milo checks his phone, frowning. "I must go now."

"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.

"You look good on your knees. But perhaps now is not the time, Kiara." Fuck.

“What a shame… Because you'll never see me in that position ever again."

"You cannot even begin to fathom the kinds of positions I want to see you in, Kiara."

"Nice dress by the way," he hums, reaching for my hand. "But I told you to wear red." I swallow as his fingers lace through mine. What is he doing? "I am wearing red," I whisper, attempting to gather my wit. I'm not going to suffer alone. "You just can't see it." His gaze darts to the part of my body that's screaming to be touched, to be ravaged. "Fuck…” He tightens his grip around my fingers, his eye full of restraint. "Kiara..."

Fuck Milo. I can be my own dragon.

Manuel⁠—"

"Be ready on time, yes?" I crane my neck over my shoulder and lock my scheming gaze on Milo. "Yes!" I exclaim in a wanton tone, pouting, contorting my face for the ultimate effect. "Yes! Oh my God, yes! Yes, Milo! Fuck! Yes!" Milo jolts up from his seat, clenching his fists. "Kiara..."

"He is a man, Kiara. Unfortunately, his bone is a bone."

"Listen to me you little whore.”

"If only you knew who I was, you wouldn't be running your⁠—"

Milo winces, snaking his right arm around my paralyzed body. He lifts me to his chest, every movement gentle, controlled, tender. "Gio, get the door."

And I sleep. I sleep like the fucking dead. Until I wake up. And the pleasure is gone. And the only thing I feel... Is anger.

Milo-tonin. It would fly off the fucking shelves.

"He was always a father first. He always made time for us." Right there. Flashes of fucking humanity.

The moment I come into view, Milo's eyes snap up. His hardened gaze skims the length of my body, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips twisted up with a murky kind of sadness.

"Kiara, please⁠—"

"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?" No going back.

"Are you finished staring?"

"Am I in danger? Did I create more problems for you?"

"As you know, our dispute with the Russians predates what happened in Monaco. It is being taken care of. As long as you are with me, you will be safe."

"Fuck sakes!" Milo abruptly stands up, jaw twitching. "Kiara!"

I sidle closer to him. “I’m not going anywhere. Just sleep." And for once, he doesn't protest, doesn't argue. He lowers his head on my shoulder and within seconds drifts off into a deep sleep. I smile, glancing down at his peaceful face as I pull up Pride and Prejudice on my Kindle. I'm in the mood for a romance. And this time, it's not for an escape.