Milo's hair is dishevelled, like he's run his hands through it too many times. His eyes are hooded, dark circles formed underneath them. He hasn't slept either by the look of things.

He examines me without mercy from the doorway, assessing every inch of my body from head to toe through the dim light of my phone. He pauses on my cheek and again at my neck, radiating so much rage it should terrify me, but it doesn't.

I'm relieved. I'm relieved he's here. For the first time all night it doesn't feel like someone could creep in here. No one could get past him, no one would dare try.

His gaze trails upwards to my eyes for the first time. Against my will, tears start to form, and upon seeing this, he opens the door a little further.

His voice is softer than I've heard before when he asks, "Can I come in?"

"Sure." My answer is barely a whisper. 

The moment I give my consent, he walks towards me. The bed dips under his weight when he sits on the edge of the mattress, a few inches away from where I'm propped up against the headboard.

My heart plummets when his finger reaches to gently trace my jaw, tilting my chin so he can fully examine the extent of my injuries. I'm shaking. I don't know whether it's still from anxiety or because Milo is so close to me, I can feel the heat radiating from his body onto mine.

I glance downwards to hide my tears, and that's when I notice his knuckles. They're scuffed, the raw skin freshly cut open and bruised. A shiver runs through me. Where has he come from?

He follows my gaze, tilting my chin upwards again so I can't look at his injuries any longer.

I silently beg my fingers to stop shaking, for my body to stop freaking out, but it doesn't happen.

I still cling to my phone, trembling so bad that the light moves all over the place. I feel small, vulnerable, and I hate that. I am not this person. I refuse to be this person.

Milo looks different than normal too, he looks... unsure of himself. Restrained, maybe.

"You flew all the way here from Italy?" I finally say into the darkness, my voice uneven.

"Yes," Milo answers immediately. His gaze remains on mine. It's heated.

"Why?" I ask, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.

Milo releases a ragged breath and doesn't say anything at first. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's fuming, simmering in his anger for a reason unknown to me. Perhaps he's mad that his Italian plans were ruined thanks to this.

When he doesn't say anything, I become more on edge and creep backwards. He must be angry about the deal. He said it was important and I blew it.

A man like Milo DeLuca won't accept failure without punishment.

His eyes snap to mine, as if he can read my every thought word for word. "I will never hurt you, Adele." His words hold so much promise I find myself stunned to silence. "Don't be afraid of me."

If I wasn't so traumatised, I would scoff. He must sense this because the look on his face changes, as if he's waiting for an explanation.

"You're the most dangerous person I've ever met. You blackmail me into continuing to work for you, but you don't tell me anything, so I never have any idea what's going on." I don't stop to breathe. If I do, I'll lose my nerve.

I gesture to him. He towers over me in both height and mass. The muscle on his tattooed body is sculpted to perfection like a deadly weapon. He could snap me in two with the click of his fingers.

"You look like this, yet you tell me not to be afraid of you," I say, on the verge of breaking down. "I've never been more afraid of anything in my life."

Milo doesn't move an inch; he remains on the edge of the bed, watching me like his life depends on it. There isn't an ounce of emotion on his face, and now that I've stopped to calm down, I realise what I've done.

"I'm sorry, I—" I stutter. When I try to speak, an inaudible sound that's something like a strangled whimper escapes the back of my throat instead.

Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I shake my head and try to get a grip on my emotions before I spiral.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, refusing to look at him through my tears. I'm embarrassed, overwhelmed, and exhausted. It's not a good combination. "I'm just tired."

"Adele," Milo finally says, his voice so soft it's barely recognisable.

I look up at him again, unable to help myself. He stares at me with such intensity I lose my breath.

His voice low, laced with an emotion I can't read, he murmurs, "Come here."

And for some stupid reason, I do.

Broken and unable to keep it together any longer, I wrap my arms around the broadness of his shoulders. The sensation of him tightening his grip on me, pulling me flush against the strength of his body, is something I've never experienced before.

I tighten my grip around him too, burying my face into the crook of his neck at the same time his hands pull me even closer, until there's no space between us at all.

His familiar, addictive smell and the warmth of his body pressed against mine makes me feel as though I'm floating through air. He cages me into the protectiveness of his embrace so securely it feels like nothing outside of this room exists. Like nothing could hurt me.

"You're safe now," his whispers; a promise against my ear. "Take slow, deep breaths."

My eyes remain closed. I try to do what he says but as my anxiety slowly dissipates, the feeling of his hand rubbing gentle circles against my lower back makes it return for an entirely different reason.

"I'm sorry." His murmur makes me pull back just enough to look at him. He doesn't loosen his grip. "I told you that you would be safe, and I broke my promise."

His eyes harden as he fixates on my cheek again, his body tensing noticeably from beneath me.

"Our agreement is finished. You're no longer my buyer's agent." His words have an edge to them that sends a shiver down my spine. "After tonight, I want you to return to your life and do everything you can to forget about this. Forget about me."

As he speaks, my heart breaks, and I can't figure out why. What he's saying is what I've wanted to hear since I found Jordan in that house, but I don't feel relief. All I feel is desperation.

Maybe I don't want to forget.

"No. You were right," I breathe, fidgeting with my hands on my lap. "I know too much to walk away, and Dante knows that. If I stop working for you now, I'm an even bigger target. Aren't I?"

Milo exhales, his hands still pressed to my back securely, like I could shatter any second. His arms feel like the safest place in the world. The pure strength of them holding me close to him creates an unfamiliar feeling in my chest.

"I would feel safer continuing to work for you than being out on my own after all of this," I admit.

It's the truth. I've gone too far now. I'm in too deep, and his enemies know that. As much as I wish it could be different, I don't have a normal life to return to anymore. There is no walking away. That's a fact I have to accept.

"But I need to know more," I say. "I can't work in the dark and be commanded around without having any idea what's going on. If this is going to work, there has to be some kind of trust."

Milo listens to my every word. As I speak, I try to control my nerves and seem confident, but that's very hard to do when his forehead is inches away from my own.

"You're choosing to stay?" His voice is low.

I nod gently, holding his burning gaze. Somehow, at that moment, I feel a shift in him. He was expecting me to run for my life and never look back. I thought that's what I would do given the opportunity. Instead, I find myself trying not to stare at his lips when he leans closer.

He examines me head to toe, like I might evaporate into thin air right before his eyes.

"I'm not good with trust." His admission is honest. For a second, I almost see vulnerability in his eyes, but it's gone just as fast.

"Small steps," I offer. "I'm not good at it, either."

Aside from Art, everyone I've ever trusted has hurt me one way or another.

Milo nods, and I release a breath, calmer now. Calm enough to become aware of how close we are to one another. My legs straddle his waist, and there's nothing between us but his jeans and my very short, silky pyjama shorts.

"Dante is my uncle. He sold my father out to the Russians five years ago and then fled here," Milo's admits. His words leave me stunned.

"He was killed because of Dante." It's a statement, not a question. I already know the answer. The way Milo's jaw tightens tells me I'm right. "I'm sorry, Milo."

"Don't be," he answers smoothly, as if it doesn't bother him at all. Something tells me this man has become a master at concealing his feelings.

My arms are still around his neck and his remain wrapped around my body, igniting a fire deep within the pit of my stomach I'm doing my best to ignore.

I can hear Milo's uneven breaths; they match mine as we stare at each other through the dimly lit light of Amelia's spare room.

His hand moves to cup my face with a featherlight touch. I feel it throughout my entire body when his thumb brushes my cheek.

Our lips are so close to each other we would only have to move an inch and... I swallow dryly, unable to look away from him and the desire pooling in his eyes.

"You should try to get some sleep."

His words make me scoff. Sleep is the last thing I feel like doing. As if reading my thoughts, he smiles. It's the first time I've ever seen him smile properly. Dimples form on either side of his mouth, their soft indents catching me by surprise.

He's so handsome, it takes my breath away momentarily.

He hasn't let me go; his hands continue to hold me close as he glances at my phone that's been discarded somewhere on the bed. The light is still on, like it was when he first walked in here and I was cowering beneath the covers.

"Do you want me to wait with you until you fall asleep?" His question is unexpected.

I exhale weakly, gripping the collar of his dress shirt with nervous fingers. In a small voice I ask, "Can you stay? Please, just for tonight. The last thing I want is to be alone right now."

He nods, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear so gently I barely feel it. "I'll sleep on the floor. I need to go get some things from the car and then I'll come back, okay?"

Now it's me who manages to smile. "You can sleep in the bed. We're both adults. I'm sure we can behave ourselves."

Milo is unable to hide his smirk as he leans forward, lowering me against the mattress. I draw in a breath as he hovers over me, only inches away. "Speak for yourself, Miss Buchanan."

My cheeks are blazing, I know they are. My entire body is blazing, actually. I can do nothing but stare at him as he rises slowly from the bed.

"I'll be back in a minute," he assures me, pulling his keys from his pocket.

I don't trust my voice to answer. Instead, I stare at the ceiling and sink against the mattress once he leaves, rubbing the sheets between my legs. My stomach is in knots, desperation clawing at me in a way I've never felt before. My internal body temperature climbs further and further by the second.

I am in so much trouble.

***

When Milo returns, he has a duffle bag over his shoulder and his phone pressed to his ear. He's speaking in Italian, like always. His tone is heated. Clearly, he's pissed off. The sound of it, somehow, only makes me want him more.

I keep the covers pulled high and stay burrowed beneath, watching silently through the darkness as he drops the bag and begins unbuttoning his shirt with one hand.

He continues to speak on the phone. Meanwhile, every inch of his tattooed torso is slowly revealed to me like a work of art. I find myself clenching my thighs involuntarily as his chiselled abs flex from every minuscule movement he makes.

This is bad. This is very, very bad.

I force myself to look away before he catches me staring at him. 

He disappears into the bathroom and reappears still on the phone moments later, now wearing grey sweatpants that sit low on his hips, just beneath the defined ridges of his v-lines.

My stomach is in knots and pretty soon, I think my lungs might collapse.

I don't dare move an inch when he lays on top of the covers, grabbing the spare blanket from the foot of the bed rather than joining me under the sheets.

It's a smart move given my current state, but I still can't help but feel disappointed.

He ends the call abruptly, and with a frustrated breath, places his phone on the nightstand.

I turn on my side to face him, unable to stop myself. Even through a layer of blankets I can still feel the heat of his body radiating onto mine.

"Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Milo answers without hesitating, still clearly aggravated by the call. I feel his sharp breath from here, as if he's trying to calm himself down. "It was my brother."

"Happy?" I ask, trying to speak calmly and not seem overly excited by the fact he's telling me something for the first time.

"Nicolas." Simply by the way he says his name, I can tell he's trouble. I've never heard anything about this third brother. Even through the darkness, Milo can sense my intrigue. "He's the oldest," is all the additional information he offers.

"If he's the oldest son, shouldn't he be in charge?" I ask. "I thought that's how it worked."

"He certainly thinks so, but no. It was a vote," Milo explains quietly, his tone still on edge.

I hum, controlling my curiosity. I wonder how Milo got picked over his oldest brother. The dynamics of that must be difficult.

"Milo?" I whisper, feeling his head turn towards me. "Thank you for opening up."

"Small steps," he murmurs and doesn't say anything else. I settle on silence too with a soft smile on my face.

He's being nice to make me feel better. To distract me. I'm certain of that.

I can feel how tense he is lying beside me. He's hiding his anger well behind his collectedness.

Whatever happened today with Renee, I know it means something, something big. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't.

What happens now?

I'm lying beside a mafia leader who agreed to try and trust me. If I'm trusted, I'm falling even further down the rabbit hole.

I must be losing my mind, because now I'm lying beside Milo, that's exactly what I want. My heart wants to get closer to him, in every way possible. My brain knows it's not safe.

Do I risk everything for a man I shouldn't be anywhere near?

I'm not sure I have the self-control to stop myself.