Page 103 of Milo

And the ending? I just pray that it's not Shakespearean.

A calming sense of comfort flows through my veins as I traipse toward the dining room table. Milo snaps his head up from the newspaper in his hand, his glistening eyes giving a slow once-over.

"Good morning, bella," he smiles, lifting a brow as I adjust the white button-up draped over my body. "Is that my shirt?"

"Yeah." I blush, inhaling the familiar oaky scent of his cologne that's seeped into the fabric. My favorite smell. "It was the first thing I could find. I hope that's okay."

"More than okay," he hums, licking his lips. How I envy that tongue. "It looks much nicer on you than on me."

"Obviously," I grin, rolling my eyes as I take a seat next to Milo and pour myself a cup of coffee from the French press. I look around the empty suite. "Where is everyone?"

"They are on an assignment.” Milo passes me a plate of pastries. "They'll be back soon."

"Assignment?" I ask, taking a sip of espresso. "Do I want to know?"

"No, you do not.” Milo checks his phone, a tiny frown marring his eyebrows. "But if everything goes according to plan, we will not have to worry about the Russians for much longer."

This doesn't make sense. After what happened in Monaco, I expected havoc to ensue. How is the war already ending? It barely even started. Or maybe it did, and I simply wasn't privy to that information. Either way, I'm grateful that it's almost over.

Grateful and a tad scared. It shouldn't be this easy. Something is amiss.

"Oh," I hum suspiciously, dipping a chocolate glazed biscotti into the espresso. "Whatever you're up to, it sounds dangerous."

"Do not worry, tesoro.” His velvety voice suffocates my anxiety. "You are not in any danger."

"Is Marchello?" He's usually always with us. His absence, though appreciated, is unnerving. "Will he be okay?"

Milo lets out an amused laugh. "Marchello is a skilled man, Kiara. He will be perfectly fine." Folding the newspaper in half and placing it on the table, Milo leans closer to me. "That being said, we have two whole days to ourselves."

"No business? Just us?"

"I might have to answer a couple of calls, but other than that, no business.” He reaches for my hand, his thumb caressing the underside on my wrist. "I am all yours."

"You are?" I meet his gentle gaze as my heart flutters in my chest like it's full of Monarch butterflies. "Mine?"

"Yes.” The confirmation of his affection makes my head buzz with contentment. "Only yours."

"Good," I say, suppressing a satisfied smile. "I don't like to share."

"Neither do I," Milo says with a covetous grin. "So, Kiara, what would you like to do for the next few days?"

"Other than you?" I cock my head to the side. A glimmer of darkened lust flashes across his face. "I want to do everything. I know that might be impossible in two days, but we can try, right?"

"If you keep licking your lips, tesoro—" A mischievous smirk spreads on his face. "We might not have time to do anything other than fuck."

I clear my throat, casting him a playful scowl. "I can fuck you whenever I want, Milo, but the Christmas market only runs for two weeks."

He lets out a deep laugh. "You would rather walk around in the cold and look at handmade ornaments than spend the day in bed with me?"

"Mhmm. There's also music and drinks and food. I've always wanted to try firunatt."

Milo stands up and circles the table. "You are making me quite hungry, Kiara."

"Here." I hold a piece of biscotti over my shoulder as he runs his fingers through my tangled hair. "Have a snack."

He dips down, snapping the chocolate tip off the almond pastry with his teeth. Double shit. "Delicious," he coos into my ear, his hot breath blowing against my neck. Bastard. "Now for the main course."

"Milo—" Before I can feign protest, he swoops me up into his arms, knocking my chair down in his impulsive wake. I wrap my arms around his neck, glowering at him. "I wasn't done eating yet."

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