Page 140 of Milo

"No." Vittoria shakes her head, keeping her gaze on the floor. "No name."

"If this mole is Enzo's replacement," Paolo muses, his brows pinching together, "That means they have only recently joined our organization."

"That is what it sounded like." Vittoria tilts her head up, batting her lashes at Milo. "Is there anyone new that you do not trust?" She glances at me. "Or that fits that description?"

I bite my tongue to keep myself from lashing out at her. That's what she expects. I know it. But I won't fall into her trap. Calm, cool, collected. That's me. Oh, and smart. Smarter than her.

"Do you speak Russian, Vittoria?" I ask, eliciting confused glances from the three men.

She frowns. "No, I do not. Why?"

I shrug. "Well, I'm just wondering how you understood what Igor was saying on the phone if you don't speak Russian."

"He was speaking in English."

"Really?" I say in a drawn-out breath. "Interesting." I bite my lip, glaring at Vittoria. "When was this again? When did you overhear this conversation?"

"Two days ago."

"What time?"

She blinks. "It was late."

"Where were you?"

"At the brothel," she says without missing a beat. "In the other room."

"What were you wearing?"

"Uh—"

"What did you eat that day?" I ask, crossing my arms. "What was the weather like? Hot? Cold? Sun? Rain? Snow?"

"It was—it was snowing, I think," Vittoria stammers, her breath quickening.

"What color were the walls at the brothel, Vit?" I ask, not believing her for a second. "What kind of bed did you sleep on? Did you have your own room? Or did you have to share? Was the room small, big? Did it have windows? Air conditioning? Where in Moscow was it?"

"I—I don't know. I?—"

"Or maybe you just forgot your lines," I state sharply, unfazed by the tears welling up in her eyes. "Perhaps next time, use a teleprompter."

"Kiara," Milo scolds, frowning at me. "What are you doing?"

"Me?"

"I'm sorry!" Vittoria cries, burying her head into her hands, her shoulders vibrating as she begins to sob. "I don't want to think about it! I don't want to remember. Please don't make me! Please!"

"It's alright, Vittoria," Paolo whispers, rubbing her back as he casts me an unimpressed scowl. Great, I'm the bad guy? "It's alright. Shh."

I scoff. "So dramatic."

"Kiara, may I speak with you outside?" Milo grabs my arm and drags me to the hallway. He closes the door to his office, his eyes widened with confusion as he scans my irritated face. "What is going on with you? Why are you being so hostile with Vittoria? Why ask her all those questions? She is clearly traumatized."

"She's not traumatized, Milo, she's fucking acting! And quite poorly might I add. You don't seriously believe her, do you?"

"She knew about Enzo," Milo says, letting out a sigh. "How would she know about him if she weren't truly being held by Igor?"

"I don't know, but what I do know is that she's lying. Don't you see what she's trying to do? She's implying that I'm the mole."

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