8- Stubborn Decisions

Milan’s eyes flashed with shock as Vito admitted, “My uncle, Luca. Four years ago. He backstabbed me.”

She looked dumbfounded, trying to process the weight of his words. It was unnerving to think that the man who had taught him to kill had been the first person he ended up killing himself.

“Lu… Luca? What did he do?” she asked, covering her mouth with her hand as astonishment swam in her brown-golden eyes.

Vito’s jaw tightened. The memory was dark, unthinkable, but he simply shrugged. “You don’t have to know everything,” he said quietly.

Milan seemed to understand. She didn't pressure him for answers.

The momentary silence between them created an awkward tension. She looked away, fisting her hands, as if afraid to meet his eyes.

“I need to go home now. Do you want to come with me?” Vito asked impulsively.

Milan shook her head, letting her long hair fall over her face. “No. I would rather stay here until everything is resolved, then I’ll go back to the US.”

Vito sighed, already expecting her refusal. “It’s not safe here. This place is for the Den and the operations, not people. Especially not for you.”

Milan rolled her eyes at his words. “Then have someone stay with me. You can’t leave me here. What if I go into another anxiety episode?”

He felt a flare of irritation at the term. “Anxiety episode? Is that what you call it?”

She shrugged, unconcerned. “That’s what it is.”

Vito’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This isn’t the first time, is it?” he asked, a sharp edge in his deep voice.

Milan didn’t reply, instead she rose from the bed and walked toward the sealed window. She pushed it open, letting the night air brush past her.

Vito stepped closer, placing his hand beside hers on the window sill. “What you have isn’t an anxiety episode,” he grunted, his tone low yet it rumbled like thunder. “Andrea said it’s brain distortion. And somehow, she’s convinced I caused the fear that’s inside you.”

Milan turned abruptly, her face nearly brushing his. “Do you think I don’t know my condition? Do you think I don’t understand how manipulated my mind was? Do you think I want this stagnant fear inside me?” Tears streaked her cheeks, but she wiped them away.

Vito opened his mouth, but no words came. He backed slightly, unprepared for how vulnerable she looked. He wasn’t used to seeing her cry, and it stirred an unwanted feeling inside him.

“This is why you have to get over it,” he said firmly. “You can’t keep living in fear.”

“I don’t want to live in fear either,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I want to be myself again.”

Vito stiffened his jaw, pleased to see her resolve. An unfamiliar heat prickled at him, but he forced himself to focus. He couldn't afford to get hard again. His gaze fell on the brown boxes stacked in the room.

“Go home with me. Most of the rooms here are stacked; you won’t be comfortable,” he urged, turning toward her, but Milan’s gaze remained on the boxes.

“You know what those are, right?” he asked.

“I do,” she replied.

“And you still want to stay here?”

“Yes,” she declared stubbornly, her voice now firmer.

Vito‘s hand fisted into a blow by his side and he slowly released it, inhaling deeply as he realized that she might not feel completely safe with him. When he thought of that, he was a bit stunned but he still countered in a compromising tone.

“I don’t stay alone. Little Aurora lives with me, and her old nanny too.” He didn't even know why he thought this might change her mind, but it clearly didn’t.

The brilliant half-moon in the night sky blazed behind her, and its rays adorning her black hair only made the persistent expression on her face more potent.

“Can you just find someone you trust but don’t like to stay with me? You do that the best.” She spoke softly this time, and he found himself considering her request until he recalled that we weren't teenagers anymore.

“That's not possible, Milano. Anyone I don't like here, cannot be here.” The men in his Den strive to make him like them after proving their utmost loyalty because they know he’s a ticking bomb.

She seemed defiant, staring at him with those gorgeous brown-golden eyes. He was glad to see the spark return to her terrified self.

“What about Mateo? You don’t seem to like him that much. Is he still around?” Milan asked and Vito’s face hardened. “See! I know you don’t like him that much. He seems cool, can he stay with me? Not in this room, of course, maybe in the next room. I know you are a busy person, and until Antonio believes the tale we intend to spread, can I have Mateo around?” She pleaded, moving a bit closer to him.

Her gaze on him felt so intimate, and their close proximity was also getting to him.

Unfortunately for him, he was annoyed that she kept mentioning Mateo, and couldn't see that he was only a decision away from kissing her.

At that moment, Vito had to concede to Giovanni’s words. Milano Romano indeed was the finest combination of fire and fragility he had ever encountered, a woman who could disarm him with a single look and make his carefully controlled world spin out of balance.

“I promise I will be a very good girl. I won’t try to run away or break any of your things. I will read here and try to improve my positive thinking.” She said a lot of things he wanted to hear but the thought that she intended to do all of this while having Mateo in the next room, didn't quite sit right with him. Not at all.

“No.” He adamantly refused.

Milan blinked and stepped back, annoyance crossing her face. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want—” He stopped, biting his inner cheek, unwilling to admit the true reason.

Milan’s glare pierced his body and she reluctantly moved to the bed, her shoulders sagging. “If it's not possible, then please help me go back home. All my legal documents, passports, and everything are in Antonio’s hands.”

She sat on the bed, her head hanging low.

Vito frowned upon listening to her words, a mild understanding of how much the Rocci brothers had her trapped settled in him. His anger flared again, “why did you marry him? How the hell did you even end up with him?” The unanswered questions in his head came up before he could stop them.

Milan swallowed, sniffing and rubbing her nose with her index finger, a habit she had grown to quell her tears. “I loved him? Is that enough reason for you?” She raised her head to meet his furious gaze and he scoffed.

“And look where that got you. You've always had a bad taste in men.” His deep, low voice was replenishing with anger.

“I've not had any man before him. You didn’t let any boy come close to me before we had to leave for the States. I was wary of men before him because of you.” She accused stubbornly, her voice slightly higher than expected, making him feel a sudden excitement flare in him.

As she glared at him, her eyes were shining with a hint of blame, but in them right now were also those flames he cherished and loved to see. He convinced himself that his Milo was back.

“Fine, I will let Mateo stay with you. But tonight, you are going home with me.” Vito reluctantly agreed to her demands, but she didn’t look a tiny bit appreciative.

“Why do I have to go home with you? Can’t you just tell him to stay with me starting from tonight?”

His chest tightened with an unnameable feeling. “You’re not infatuated with him, are you?”

“This morning I was a married woman, and now I’m a widow. Do you think I could crush on someone I met for ten or twenty minutes?” Milan snapped.

Vito’s face reddened slightly at the absurdity, and he muttered under his breath, “That will be best for him.”

He finally glanced at his wrist watch before his eyes returned to her. “Can we leave now? It’s almost 9 pm and Aurora’s nanny gets off work at 9.”

Milan nodded reluctantly, her gaze flicking down to the floor as she made an effort to mask a swirl of conflicting thoughts. She kept her secret tightly in her chest—the pregnancy, the life growing inside her, and the dangerous truth that Vito had killed Giovanni.

He had no idea that she was indeed pregnant, and she intended to keep it that way.

Every step toward him reminded her that her child might one day be used as a bargaining chip between Vito and Antonio if he ever discovered the truth.