Page 42 of A Taste Of Darkness

Between checking in with his security every other step we took, and keeping his eyes on me, it was like he wasn’t worried about anything. But I suppose that was merely a cover. Surely he couldn’t have been a hundred percent at ease with being back here.

Fortunately for me, I finally settled with the thought that I didn’t believe his family was going to come after me. After all, why would they go after me when they had him right here?

As we were about to enter the airport, all ten of Milo’s security guards stopped walking. They were surrounding us, all ten of them. Seriously, I felt like I was the first daughter and Mr. President told his entire security team to make sure not a single soul touched me. Or saw me for that matter.

Only that it was Milo and me in the circle, and it wasn’t about someone touching us but the mafia killing us, I suppose.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, subconsciously hooking my arm into Milo’s.

I wasn’t as stupid as I seemed. I mean, was it stupid to come here in the first place? Definitely. But I wasn’t stupid enough to believe I could walk around freely or that I wasn’t in danger with every breath that I took.

Milo was kind of secure, though. In my mind anyway.

“They’re just checking, don’t worry,” Milo told me quietly. I wasn’t sure why he almost whispered.

“Can you even trust these people?” My arm tightened around his as the first two security men walked into the airport, followed by another two.

Milo nodded once.

“How can you be sure of that?” We stepped forward, slowly, attracting far less attention than I thought we would, or so I told myself. I couldn’t exactly see anything. I wanted to imagine everyone’s head turning to see who thought of themselves as important enough to literally hide in between security guards, but I wasn’t sure this should’ve been the case. “If your family offers them?—”

“They won’t take the bait,” Milo said. “All ten of them have reasons to protect us. If something happens to either you or me…” The corners of his lips tugged up, but he refused to tell me what would happen. Frankly, I was okay with not knowing. “Besides, they’re not very fond of my family either. They’d rather die than ever work alongside my father.”

I gasped but I was quick to cover my mouth with my free hand. Looking around at each of the men, I noticed that not one even bothered to look at Milo or me. Their eyes were strictly on the people in the airport, or exits, or whatever they were paying attention to.

I wasn’t even sure if they were listening in on our conversation.

Lowering my voice, I said, “Are they part of another…” Could I just say the word aloud? What if that caught their attention?

Once again, Milo shook his head. “Before I ever use the help of other mafia families, I’d rejoin mine. They wouldn’t help me anyway.”

“Why not?” That was a stupid question, I realized. Why would they have helped him?

Milo chuckled. “If they know I’d been gone, they’d parade me around. They’d keep me hostage and threaten to kill me. You know, use me as their tool to get what they want. And once they got what they wanted, they’d kill me. If they don’t know, they’d kill me the moment they have the chance to just because. Either way, I’d end up dead.”

Not a single muscle moved on his face while I had to fight with myself not to cry right this instant. He showed zero emotions. Of course, he grew up with that reality, but he must’ve felt some sort of way about this.

If I grew up knowing I’d never be safe, I don’t think I would’ve made it to fifteen.

Milo must’ve been through so much growing up; no wonder he ran away from it all.

“Just… because?” I could hear the small crack in my voice, even over the loud chatter around us.

While I understood that the mafia wasn’t tea parties and royal dress-ups, I never thought about how hard it truly was for the kids who grew up being part of it all. I guess they weren’t as fearful because this was all they knew, but seeing being chased down by another family as normal just wasn’t.

He shrugged. “Yeah. Let’s just say I used to have a, uh… pretty high rank in my family. If there was some kind of feud between the Cosa Nostra and other groups, then I turned into an automatic target. It could last from hours to years.”

I giggled, though it wasn’t funny at all. “So, you’re like what? The successor to the throne?”

He didn’t let his chuckle out this time, but I could tell he was bemused. “You could say that.”

“You’re the prince of the mafia,” I joked. “That’s kind of a cute title if you think about it. The twisted royals.”

I didn’t even notice how far we’d come until one of the first two security guards walked through another set of doors, and I caught a glimpse of my surroundings. We were exiting. I didn’t think I’d ever leave an airport faster than today.

“The Underboss, actually,” he corrected. “But I like how you try to make it sound so positive.”

As soon as we reached the car that was waiting for our arrival, I let go of Milo’s arm.

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