Page 123 of Milo

"Kiara—"

"Tell me.” I grip the bench press, my fingers cramping. "I need to know."

"Yes," Milo admits in a strained tone, an almost shameful wince seizing his features. "Please do not?—"

"Good."

"What?" Milo's puzzled eyes spring open. "Good? I thought you would be upset with me, I thought you would think me a monster."

There are many defining firsts in a person's life.

First step. First word. First missing tooth. First time riding a bike. First broken bone. First crush. First love. First heartbreak.

First time you see the world for what it is.

I was mistaken. There isn't only good and evil. Right or wrong. Black and white.

It's a nice thought but it's unrealistic.

It's a lie.

"You were right. There is a grey area. I see that now."

"Tesoro…” Milo frowns, curling two fingers under my chin. "I am sorry."

"For what?" I fight against every instinct not to lean into his touch. "For lying to me?"

"For lying to you," he breathes, arching down, his nose brushing against mine as our foreheads touch. "And for telling you the truth." I sniffle, tears on the cusp of spilling. "Perhaps now, Kiara, you understand why I tried to spare you, why I did not wish to burden you." His hot breath fans against my lips as he whispers, "You wanted the truth, tesoro, this is it."

"How do you sleep at night, Milo? Knowing what you know?"

"I didn't sleep.” He pulls me against his chest, his safe, warm arms encircling my waist. "Not until I met you." He laces his fingers through my hair, his earthy brown eyes glowing with pure, untainted admiration. "I love you, Kiara, and I am sorry that I hurt you. Forgive me. I beg of you, please forgive me."

"I believe that you're sorry.” I lift my hand up to his face, caressing the stubble on his cheek, outlining the edge of his strong jaw. And I do. I believe him. He's being real and raw and vulnerable. If only it were enough. "But I can't forgive you. Not yet. I need time, Milo. I need time."

"How much time?" he asks in a hoarse, rough tone as his grip around me tightens ever so slightly.

"I don't know," I whisper, pushing myself to my feet as I wipe away tears. “A day, a week, a month. I don't know."

"I understand," he says in a lowly tone. "Take as much time as you need, tesoro. And when you are ready, say yes."

Too much. Too soon. Too fast.

"I'm going to go help Julia decorate the Christmas tree now," I say, needing some space. Again. "I'll see you at dinner."

And with that, I head back to my room, my heart humming with happiness, my brain slowly coming around the idea of staying, and my gut telling me I made the right choice.

Crawling back into bed, I open my notebook and stare at the list.

Cons:

He's the head of a mafia

He's killed people

He's a criminal

He tried to kill me

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