Page 105 of Milo

"I could catch on much quicker if you just translated for me. What is the significance of me sitting on your right? Tell me."

We stop at the top of the stairs. "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.

"So, it's like the Mob equivalent of changing your relationship status on Facebook?" A wave of clouded elation washes over me. "Something like that?"

Milo snorts. "Yes, Kiara, something like that."

"Good to know." I nod, biting my lip. Oh, God. This is a monumental step in our relationship. Am I ready? I am, right? A sheen of sweat covers my palms as I let out a small breath. "Is this going to go over well with the others? Or should I expect lots of judgmental stares?"

"Let them stare," Milo says nonchalantly, leading us into my bedroom. I lean against the vanity table as he continues. "The decision is mine, not theirs." He pauses. "And yours, of course." He tilts his head, scanning my antsy face. "This is what you want, is it not?"

When I was attempting to learn Mandarin, I came across the word yuánfèn; it loosely means fated coincidence or the fate between two people. I believe that I was fated to meet Milo. I was meant to be at the bank when he came in. Our lives were meant to collide.

But there's also a proverb in Mandarin, you yuán wú fèn, which means have fate without destiny. Two people can be fated to meet but are not destined to stay together.

What a depressing proverbial sentiment. Awful, really.

I stare deep into Milo's rich brown eyes and pray to the heavens that our meeting was not some twisted karmic joke. I've lost too many people. There's no one left. I can't lose him too. Like with everything else in my life, this cannot fall apart. It has to last. It needs to transcend chance and circumstance.

Please. Let it last.

"Yes," I whisper, pressing my hand against his chest, his heartbeat reverberating into my palm. "It's what I want."

"Grazie a Dio," he whispers, grazing his rough thumb along my cheek.

And I do. I thank Him for letting me find beauty in such a peculiar place.

With a smile on his face, Milo arches down, his lips melting against mine as he sucks all the oxygen out of my lungs. His touch filters away the hesitation, the doubts, the what ifs. His kiss deepens and my lungs are full again. Full of air that is pure, tender, devoted. Air that defies all logic and reason. Air that tethers us together. Air that makes me feel safe. Wanted. Cherished. Air that makes me want to keep breathing. That makes me want to keep living. Because I don't feel alone. Not now.

Not when I'm with him.

"Mmm," I hum in bliss, my hand slipping off the vanity table as Milo pulls back. Staggering to the side, I knock over a tray of jewelry. "Shit." I squat down, collecting the rings and necklaces sprawled all over the floor. I frown, tossing the last piece of jewelry into the ceramic bowl, a burst of anxiety gripping my heart. "My grandmother's locket. It's not here."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice," Milo sighs as I stand up. "I was going to wait but—" He folds up a finger. "Give me a moment. I'll be right back."

I cast him a puzzled look. "What? Why?"

"Just stay there, Kiara," Milo says, exiting my room. "Do not move."

Crossing my arms, I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for him to return. What is he up to now?

With his hands behind his back, Milo strides toward me, a sly grin on his face. "Turn around, tesoro."

"Why?"

Milo lets out an exasperated sigh. "Kiara, please, just do as I say."

"Fine." I turn around and face the oval vanity, meeting Milo's gaze in the mirror as he dangles my nana's locket from his fingers. "I can't wear it, Milo, remember?"

"Hold up your hair, tesoro."

"Milo, I'm serious, I'll break out in hives."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Trust me, Kiara. You will be fine."

"I doubt it," I murmur, reluctantly pulling my hair into a bun as Milo clips the locket around my neck. When the icy metal hits my chest, I flinch, peering down at the shiny necklace. "Did you get this cleaned? It looks different."

---