Page 50 of Scarred Heir
There wasn’t a time I could recall that we didn’t go to bed hungry. We never had nice clothes or the right sneakers for gym class. Gloves and hats weren’t easy to come by when the weather was harsh. Once my mother left, any remnants of a normal childhood went with her.
“I’m offering you a solution.”
“Where I come from, no one gives you something for nothing,” I said. “When I came to you the other night, I knew you would expect something in return.”
“That’s the way it works.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Negotiations are a big part of my life.”
“I could handle that.” I gazed out the window overlooking the tree-lined path in the backyard. “I asked for something, and in return, I gave you something. We were even.”
“We’re still even.” He got up and came toward me. “You don’t owe me anything.”
I owe you everything.If Milo hadn’t intervened with Bello, Chance would have paid with his life and I would have been lost. Even more lost than I already was.
“Why do you want me here?” I asked.
“Because I do.” He took my hand. “I’m not used to being alone.”
“I don’t understand.” I had searched his personal life online, but I couldn’t find any serious relationships. He was always photographed with a woman, but never the same one twice. He kept his life private. “I didn’t think you had serious relationships.”
“I don’t.” He guided me to sit on the bed. “Relationships aren’t my thing.”
“Then why are you lonely?”
“I didn’t say I was lonely.”
In most of the pictures I had uncovered of him, he was usually with Marchello and his father. Neither of them were here, and now he lived in this big house all alone. If I didn’t have Chance, I would feel like a part of me was missing.
“You miss your father and your brother.”
He sat on the bed and leaned back until his head hit the mattress, his feet still planted on the floor.
“The last few months have been tough on my family. We’re dealing with a lot.” He stared up at the ceiling. “Not having one or both of them to talk to whenever I want is difficult. It’s been the three of us for so long.”
“Antonella told me your mother passed. I’m sorry.”
“It was twelve years ago.” He ran his hand along the prayer hands tattooed on his chest. “It happened in the driveway.”
“I looked it up because I was curious.” A car bomb had gone off in front of their home when Milo was just seventeen. As difficult as reading those old articles were, it was nothing compared to the haunted look in his expression. “Your family must have been devastated.”
“We still are.”
“Is that tattoo for her?”
“It’s the first one I ever got. My father took me before I was eighteen and signed so I could honor my mother.”
“Do you know who… I couldn’t find anyone who was responsible for her death.”
“No one took responsibility, but it was meant for her because the bomb was planted in her car. It was a message for my father, but one he hasn’t gotten the opportunity to answer because whoever did it is a phantom. It’s been over a decade, and we still haven’t avenged her.”
“Milo, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for your family.”
His tone was softer than usual. When he spoke of his mother, I could feel his anguish. This side of him was different than what I had seen on New Year’s Eve. Was it his mother’s death that changed him? How did he end up running the biggest crime syndicate in the country?
“I try not to think too much about the past,” he said. “My father, Marchello, and I have enough to deal with in the present.”
I took my new boots off and then criss-crossed my legs on the bed. “They’re both away because they don’t have a choice,” I said. “That’s why you’re here alone.”
“Something like that.” He rested his hands on his stomach. “They’re not home because my family is under attack. I have to stay here and keep things going while they take care of other threats.”
