Page 29 of Milo

"Are you also aware that it is quite rude to interrupt someone when they are speaking?" He scowls at me as he pulls out his cellphone from his pants pocket and types out a message. "Did your parents not teach you any manners?"

My cocky smile contorts into a pained frown, my jaw tightening. "They taught me as much as they could in the short time that they had.”

He peers up from his phone, wincing apologetically as if realizing the tactlessness of his question.

"Forgive me. I forgot that they passed away when you were young."

"It's fine. I don't expect you to remember every minute detail of our conversations."

"That is hardly a minute detail, Kiara.” Milo takes a deep breath as he gazes out of his window. "I should have remembered." He pauses, adding, "It is not easy to lose a loved one."

His mournful tone pricks at my heart. He's speaking from experience. Recent experience.

A pang of empathy stirs in my stomach. “No, it's not."

He clears his throat, his discomfort on the subject palpable as he faces me.

"You mentioned earlier that you would like to go shopping, correct?" he asks, changing the topic. "You will have several hours before we are expected at Aria. Gio and Mateo will escort you wherever you'd like to go."

"Aria?" I ask, grateful that I'll finally have some time to myself. Well, that is if my guards don't breathe down my neck the entire outing. I might have to set some parameters with them. "What's Aria?"

"A club I own. We'll be meeting several of my business partners there later tonight." He gives me a quick once-over. "You will need to dress appropriately. I can recommend a few boutiques if you would like."

"Thanks, but I think I can handle shopping on my own." I cross my arms, still not entirely sure of what my role is. "What do you expect me to do tonight? Other than eavesdrop on your Spanish friends. I need context, Mr. Di Vaio, if I'm to report anything of actual value."

With a resigned sigh, Milo offers, "You are an intelligent and intuitive woman, Kiara. You will know if something is of value or not."

I roll my eyes at his compliment even though it fills me with an odd sense of accomplishment.

"I need details. Why are we meeting with these people? Who are they? What kind of business do they do for you? Does it have anything to do with the Russians? Do they?—"

Milo raises his hand and I stop talking, hoping he'll answer my questions.

"Oh," he smirks. "Perhaps you are obedient."

"Only when I want something. So? Tell me what I want to know."

Milo licks his lips, scanning me with guarded eyes before finally revealing, "What happened in Hawthorne, at the bank, has not been made public, and I intend to keep it that way. My associates here cannot know that we are at odds with the Russians. It would be bad for business. We are here to ensure that their confidence in my... organization has not wavered, understand?"

"Yes," I hum. "Basically, we're here because you're worried that they know you were kidnapped which makes you look weak, and you don't want that. Right?"

His twitching right eye indicates that he's not entirely impressed with my interpretation. "In layman's terms, yes. That is why we are here."

I shoot my shot. “So why were you kidnapped? I mean, you're constantly surrounded by guards – how did that even happen? And why do you bank under an alias? And why Hawthorne and not Manchester?"

"You ask too many questions." Milo closes his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. "There are things you do not need to know. Just focus on the task at hand."

"Why are you so hesitant to tell me? What do you think I'm going to do? Tweet about it?" I ask, getting irked by his lack of cooperation. "Just give me something. Anything. A little crumb will do."

I've already established that he traffics drugs and funnels the funds through his hotels. I assume his international associates are dealers? Maybe distributors? But the Russians? I'm lost.

He mulls it over for a few seconds before sighing in defeat.

"We use smaller banks because the staff is easier to control. I was in Manchester visiting an old friend when the Russians found me. Only a few members of my team knew where I was going. I was alone for only two minutes. They caught me off guard which rarely occurs."

That kind of precise knowledge takes insider information.

"Seems like you have a rodent problem. Might need to set a little mouse trap back in Genoa."

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