Page 43 of A Taste Of Darkness

Milo refused to let one of the security guards open the door for me and did it himself instead. It was… nice.

He smiled at me as I thanked him, and something inside the deepest, darkest place in the pit of my stomach fluttered.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him smile, but he seemed so different now. Not in a bad way. He seemed less guarded.

Milo got into the car after exchanging a few words with one of the security guards. I didn’t understand what they said, but judging by the way they ran off toward different cars, it was probably something about where we were headed now.

24

SECRETS ARE MEANT TO BE SHARED

Milo Marucci

Sterlie thought we’d stay at a hotel, but she should’ve known that I had some kind of residence here. Even if my name wasn’t on the lease for this building but an alias.

I didn’t like not being the owner of the buildings I used. So, every house, apartment, or penthouse I owned, I bought the entire building and became the landlord. I also opened my own bank, so I didn’t have to trust one with my money. Lord knew what would happen in case of bankruptcy. I wasn’t going to let them steal my money.

The first week had been pretty boring, at least Sterlie thought so. She made sure to tell me how bored she was at least twice a day.

I got it, though. We’d been locked up for seven days. The farthest of the outside world she’d seen were a couple of buildings on our night trips onto the balcony for some fresh air, but I couldn’t let her go outside.

Since we left Toronto far earlier than expected, I didn’t have enough time to ensure her safety. Yes, I had ten security guards, but that wasn’t enough to stop my family. We had to take other precautions, and I needed this past week to work them out with Michael.

We’d gotten a bit closer over the week, but I supposed that was inevitable. The place we were staying at wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big either, and it was only us here. If Sterlie felt like talking to anyone other than her sister on the phone, her only option was me.

I’d asked Michael to buy her some fabrics and whatever else she needed to work on new designs, which I believed Sterlie highly appreciated so she had at least something to do.

And I must admit, it was quite interesting observing her as she tried to do the math to know how big the fabric for a dress had to be. I adored the way her lips curved and her eyebrows fell into a deep frown, or how she’d sigh deeper than usual.

Yesterday, her math must’ve been off because she ended up throwing the entire dress off the balcony, saying she’d quit.

Earlier this morning, she’d been begging me to do something other than stay inside. As I was finally confident enough to ensure she’d be safe, I agreed.

I should’ve waited until she told me what she wanted to do.

Sterlie asked to go to a nightclub.

While I was sure she would’ve eventually wanted to explore Palermo, I still would’ve preferred if we’d stayed in the apartment for the entirety of the month, or at least somewhere less crowded.

But it was fine. I could handle one night at a stupid club.

Before we left for the club, Sterlie wanted to take a shower. With her out of earshot, I had time to make some calls and arrange some more things.

I have had my sister’s phone number for years just in case, but I never called her because the risks were too high that someone could have heard her talk to me.

As I waited for my sister to pick up, I paced around the living room.

Adriana didn’t pick up right away, but she did eventually. “Pronto, chi parla?” [Who’s calling?]

My eyes closed at the sound of her voice. I had forgotten what she sounded like. It felt so nice to speak to her again, even if I knew she was ready to run to our father because an unknown number called her.

“Adriana,” I said in a breath. “Sono io… ” [It’s me…] Was I supposed to say Milo or Luca? I wasn’t even sure if my name was legally changed.

My Canadian citizenship was real, but I did tip a guy off to get me those documents. It was funny how a million dollars changed people’s morals.

So, technically, I had real documents, but I didn’t get them the correct way. Milo Marucci officially existed, was registered, and had every document someone who was born and raised in Canada had. Still, I wasn’t sure if that counted.

“Oh, my God!” Adriana gasped, a moment later I heard a door slam shut. “What—Why would you call me without prior notice? Are you out of your mind?!”

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