Page 25 of Milo

"Yes." I shoot him a coy smile. "It appears I like my weapons how I like my men, Mr. Di Vaio. Ironic, is it not?"

Knight to F3. A little Sicilian defense. Why not?

"Very ironic indeed."

"So?" I lean against the edge of the counter. "Did I pass your little test?"

Without saying a word, he disappears down the hall, leaving me alone and confused. Was I supposed to follow him? Words, are they that difficult to use? I linger by the post for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. Just as I'm about to leave, Milo returns with a black case in his hand.

"Your graduation gift.” He opens the case and he places it on the table. I eye the tiny pistol laid across the foam rounds. Is he fucking with me? "Perfect for you."

I scoff as I pick it up. "You're giving me a hooker gun? Seriously? What about the revolver? This—" I shake my head, offended. "It's a toy."

He expels a melodic laugh. "This is not a toy, Kiara." He takes the miniature gun from my hands. "This is a Ruger LCR .38 special. It is—" He cocks it. "Reliable." Aims at the target. "Concealable." And fires. "Powerful."

"Ow!" My ears ring from the lack of protection. "Fuck, that's loud!"

He's unfazed as he draws closer to me. "It is small but—" He tucks the pistol into the band of my leggings, his fingers sweeping my skin, teasing it, forcing a shiver to seize my spine as he whispers, "You can hide it... anywhere." He pulls away, a devilish smirk on his face as he scans my tense posture. "A problem?"

"No," I peep, exhaling a shaky breath. Now I really need a shower. "Not at all."

"Fantastic," he states, knowing quite well that he's rendered me a hot mess. Asshole. "We leave for Spain tomorrow. Luisa will help you pack."

I blink. "And what are we doing in Spain? What should I pack?"

"I will tell you when the time is right.” A knowing grin spreads on his face. "As for clothing, cocktail dresses. Nothing too revealing, of course."

I snort. "Is that for my benefit or for yours? Worried about a little competition?"

He stalks toward me and grabs my chin; his thumb coaxing open my bottom lip as his hauntingly intense gaze feasts upon my shaken features. "The only person who should be worried is you, Kiara. You do not want to defy my wishes."

My breath hitches. "Maybe I do."

His grip tightens around my jaw as he drags his large hand to the base of my throat, applying minimal pressure that sends heat to my core. "No, sweetheart," he rasps. "You don't."

But I do.

I really fucking do.

Chapter 9

A Road Diverged

With every step I take climbing aboard Milo's private luxury aircraft, it feels like blood is gushing from the soles of my red-bottomed heels.

How many lives were lost in order to afford such lavish transportation?

My guess is too many. Far too many.

The jet is packed with rich ivory leathers, fine walnut veneers, and stylish marble stonework. Disgust and astonishment battle for supremacy in my mind as I roam through the cabin. Milo, Marchello, our guards, and the others take their seats on the pristine divans.

"Sit.” Milo gestures to an empty seat in front of him, a sleek glossy wooden table dividing the two chairs. "You can explore once we are in the air."

I slump into the off-white leather loveseat, placing the brown monogrammed tote bag Luisa purchased for me on the ground. It's too flashy for my liking, I much prefer a handbag that doesn't scream privilege; I'll have to do some shopping in Spain. Prior to leaving the estate, Luisa presented me with an infinite visa card to do with what I please. No limit.

That seems to be a recurring theme with Milo. Nothing is off-limits.

"I would've been able to explore it the first time around if someone didn't drug me," I mutter, gazing out the window as the crew prepares for liftoff.

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