Page 53 of Milo

Milo leads me out of the private room, our broke friends in tow.

Chapter 16

Twist of Fate

"You played well," Milo notes as we stroll through the casino toward the front doors. "How much did you win?"

"I don't know." I shrug, stifling a yawn. Maybe I should order an espresso at the lounge. I'm starting to see why these men do so much coke. They'd be zombies if it weren't for the illegal pick-me-up. "I didn't count it. It's your money, not mine. I was just playing for fun."

"You can think of your winnings as a bonus on top of your salary.” Milo opens the front door and the star-speckled sky greets us. It's fucking late. I can't believe the night isn't over yet.

"I have a salary? Really?" I cross my arms to retain body heat, the wind nipping at my skin as we walk to Sezza. "And I didn't even get a chance to negotiate it."

"Your salary is the gift of life, Kiara.” He gives me a lopsided smile. "You should be pleased."

I roll my eyes as we cross the street toward the waterfront. "Julia said you've never hurt a woman before. I’m starting to think you wouldn't have actually shot me."

"Julia knows only what I want her to know.” Milo places his palm on the small of my back as we round a corner. It takes all my willpower not to lean back, further and further into his warm touch. "This way."

"So, you have?" I raise an eyebrow. "Shot a woman?"

Milo cocks his head to the side, humor flickering across his strong features. "A gentleman never tells."

I give him a scowl. "I think that applies to kissing not shooting."

He smirks. “Both acts can be quite life changing depending on the source. Should I show you?"

I bite my lip as we approach the bar and lounge. "You want to shoot me, Mr. Di Vaio? Still? I thought we were past that."

"Kiara," he rasps, his vicious gaze landing on my mouth. "We both know I was not talking about shooting."

Before I can reply, Marchello sidles up next to Milo. "We need to talk numbers with Henri before he's too fucked to stand." He cranes his head toward me. "Andre will keep you company." I frown which makes him add, "Gio and Mateo will also be there."

"Great."

I let out a weary exhale as we enter the upscale lounge. The hostess ushers us to the backroom. The lurid red lighting creates an atmosphere of depravity that starkly conflicts with the overall elegant aesthetic of the bar.

The Frenchmen are already scattered among the glass top tables. Several gorgeous women circle the room, their eyes full of dollar signs as they scope out the pool of potential targets.

Milo nods at his business partner at the far end of the room. Henri stands up and struts toward us, the sway in his gait indicating he's had one too many cocktails.

"I won't be long," Milo says to me as I take a seat on the white leather bench. His gaze snaps to Gio, Mateo, and Andre who are conversing two tables over. "Have a drink, Kiara. Enjoy yourself." He pauses and adds in a whisper, "Try not to speak any French."

"Yeah, yeah.” I place my clutch on the table. The heaviness of the Ruger in my purse sends vibrations rippling through the glass. Whoops.

"Don't wander.” Milo shoots me a glare before he, Marchello, Antoine and Henri saunter away from the inebriated group of men toward a private room to discuss business.

A server approaches me and quickly takes my order, not bothering to make eye contact. I recline into the built-in booth, taking in the chaos that ensues before me.

Drugs, drinks, debauchery.

This seems to be my new normal. I feel like an anthropologist, studying the mating behaviors of Europe's most deadly elite. If I were a bystander, I wouldn't think these men were capable of any harm; they all just look like intoxicated businessmen who got quarterly bonuses and decided to spend their money on hookers and blow.

My gaze lands on Andre who tosses me a grin. I smile back.

A mistake.

Taking my friendly smile as an invitation, Andre strides in my direction, his bowtie loosened, his pupils the size of saucers as he slumps down beside me, spreading his legs and angling his body toward me.

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