Page 101 of Milo

"Pravda. They requested a meeting with my brother. One-on-one. Igor, their leader, was adamant that it was only the two of them. I knew it was a bad idea. Marchello and I tried so hard to get Sergio to listen to us, but he was stubborn, high on power, on greed."

"So, he went alone?" I swallow. "And they killed him?"

"Yes," Milo croaks. "Sergio was gone for a whole week, no communication. We thought perhaps they were negotiating terms but then we received a package."

My eyes widen. "Oh, God..."

"It was a blue rose," Milo says lifelessly. "With his name carved into the stem. Their signature. They kept his body. They always keep the body. We—We couldn't give him a proper burial."

"I'm so sorry, Milo." I clench my teeth together, my eyes glossing over. "That's horrible. Everyone deserves a chance to say goodbye."

"I agree," Milo continues, his chest rising. "That is why I wanted to meet with Igor. In exchange for my brother's body, I would pull our operations out of Moscow. Sergio was naive and arrogant to think he could fight the brotherhood. I knew better. I did not want a war. I did not want to make the same mistakes my brother made." He pauses. "But then, right before I was going to make the call—" He looks down at me and tucks my hair behind my ear, his pained eyes flickering across my face. "They did something very foolish."

I blink, my throat closing up as I ask, "What?"

With anguish glowing his irises, Milo's jaw clenches. "At the time of Sergio's passing, I was with a woman, Vittoria.” He chokes out the words like they're poison. "We had not been together very long, but she was there for me when he died. I—I cared for her."

And the pieces fall into place. A messy, dark place. One that leaves me uneasy, sick, worried.

Am I a rebound? A consolation prize? A distraction?

"The um—" I clear my throat. "The necklace was hers? V—" I stammer, her name like a dagger on my tongue. "Vittoria's?"

"Yes.” Regret flashes across his falling face. "And the woman from the gala, Catarina, she is her sister." He lets out a shaky breath. "Catarina has many reasons to despise me, if her sister never met me, she would be alive."

"It's not your fault, Milo.” I graze his stubble with the back of my hand, my heart aching for him. "You weren't the one who killed her."

Milo winces. "She disappeared, Kiara, from my own territory. I didn't even notice her absence until I received the rose. It is my fault. I couldn't protect her. I couldn't keep her safe."

Thick, tense air surrounds us as we lay together, intertwined in sadness and memories. My mind races, matching the speed of my beating heart.

"Did you love her?" I whisper, dreading to hear the answer.

He must have, right?

"I thought I did," Milo hums, his hot breath blowing against my temple. "But now, I am not sure."

I tilt my head up, my eyebrows drawn together. "But you started a war because of her. If you didn't love her, then why?—"

"Reputation.” Milo shifts uncomfortably under the covers. "There was no option but to retaliate."

Is he trying to convince me? Or himself?

"How did you retaliate?" I ask hesitantly. "What did you do? I remember um, Andre, he uh—mentioned guns or something."

Milo nods, avoiding my gaze. "We intercepted some of their arms shipments."

I cast him a wary frown. "I thought you don't traffic guns."

"We don't."

"Then where are the guns? What did you do with the shipments?"

"They're stored in a secure location." Milo shrugs, stifling a yawn. "Perhaps in the future, I will sell them to government agencies at cost. I have not yet decided."

"Government agencies aren't going to buy guns from the mafia," I say, wildly confused by his business plan. "That's illegal."

"You are adorable, tesoro," he says, a weak smile on his face. "We are not the only corrupt organization in the world. This should not be surprising for you to hear." A beat. "Money controls morals, Kiara. It always has and it always will."

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