Chapter 106: Yes... Please.
The heavy front doors of the granite mansion closed, muffling the distant sound of Roderick’s voice as he paced the gravel driveway, completely absorbed in his phone.
The squad of Portello guards remained outside, standing at full attention near the vehicles, their presence securing the grounds of the massive estate.
Inside, the silence of the empty house hung heavy. Salvatore strode through the grand foyer, his shoes echoing sharply against the floor.
Milo followed closely behind him, his fingers clasping together nervously.
"Choose the room you like," Salvatore said, his deep voice devoid of emotion as he guided Milo up the curved stone staircase. He acted like a real estate agent while exploring the house himself.
Salvatore commented on many things and what Milo could do with them.
Milo knew the layout of the second floor. He had been brought to this place many times, and his memory instantly flagged the double doors at the end of the central corridor.
That was Andro’s room.
When Salvatore pushed the doors open, the sheer size of the room became visible. It was the largest space in the house, featuring high ceilings, a brick fireplace, and heavy cream drapes that blocked out the afternoon sun.
"This one is quite nice," Salvatore remarked, walking toward the center of the room.
He looked at the expensive furniture and studied the layout. "You can clear everything out and design it exactly as you like."
Milo stood near the doorway, his entire body tensing as his hazel eyes scanned the room. The faint scent of familiar perfume and the memory of Andro’s harsh, grating voice seemed to linger in the corners of the room.
"No, not this room, Sir," Milo said, his voice small and strained over the faint hum in his ears. "I don’t want it."
Salvatore turned his head slowly, his gray eyes fixing on Milo’s pale face. "Why? It’s big. It has the best view."
"It’s Sir Andro’s room. I don’t want to be here. And I don’t want a big room," Milo whispered, looking down at his shoes.
The simple fact that the bed had belonged to Andro made his stomach twist with immediate, physical revulsion. He wanted nothing to do with the spaces the old man had occupied.
Salvatore didn’t argue. "It’s up to you."
They walked out of the master suite, heading toward the long western gallery. Milo trailed a step behind, listening to Salvatore’s flat, pragmatic comments about the building’s structural integrity and the value of the interior fixtures.
The wealth felt completely abstract to Milo. He didn’t want the responsibility of the possessions, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to stay here at all.
They reached a secondary wing on the far side of the second floor, entering a room that appeared to have been completely unused.
The furniture was covered in pale linen dust sheets, but the space was bright. Milo walked toward the back wall, using his hand to push open the glass balcony doors.
The crisp afternoon air rushed inside, carrying the neutral scent of the pine trees from the garden below.
From the railing, he could see the wide blue expanse of the swimming pool and the high stone walls that marked the edge of the property.
The room was nice, medium-sized, and clean.
Milo turned around slowly, his chest tightening as he looked at Salvatore.
"Sir... can’t I stay in your house?"
Salvatore didn’t answer immediately. He walked over to the bed, reached down with his large hand, and pulled the dusty linen cover off the mattress, tossing it onto the floorboards. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bare mattress, the springs groaning under his weight.
He looked entirely satisfied with the condition of the room, his gray eyes fixed on Milo.
"Why?" Salvatore asked, his voice calm. "You have your own big house now. Why do you prefer a small guest room in my house?"
Milo took two quick steps forward, his fingers twitching. "I like it there, Sir. Everyone... they’re all very kind to me. It’s warm."
"If it’s about the staff, don’t worry about it," Salvatore said, his tone flat but comforting. "I certainly won’t let you stay here alone in an empty mansion. By tomorrow morning, I’ll provide you with a full kitchen staff, a professional chef, maids, and guards. You don’t need to worry about anything."
Milo looked down at the floor, his heart sinking into his stomach. Salvatore was solving the problem like a Don, organizing resources and securing property, but he was completely missing the true reason for Milo’s distress.
Milo didn’t care about the maids or the guards. He just wanted to be near the man. He was afraid that if he moved into this estate permanently, his daily contact with Salvatore would dwindle until it became nothing more than occasional updates through Roderick.
The chance of seeing the man would fade over time. The thought of that complete separation felt utterly suffocating.
In that quiet moment, Milo finally understood the desperate, erratic jealousy that had driven Felix to ruin his own position.
Felix had been obsessed with the man, terrified of being pushed aside. Milo felt that exact same terrifying weight in his own chest now.
He couldn’t bear the thought of being excluded from Salvatore’s life.
Salvatore watched the sudden, heavy sadness settle over the young man’s face. He stood up from the bed, his brow furrowing.
"Why is that, Milo? We are here to celebrate your freedom and your new life. Why do you look so down?"
Milo looked up, his hazel eyes swimming with moisture in the natural light of the bedroom. The stark reality that Salvatore did not share his intense, personal attachment made the rejection feel significantly worse. It was a sharp, physical ache in his chest.
"I’m afraid and scared without you, Sir," Milo said, the raw honesty leaving his mouth before he could stop it. "I don’t feel happy staying here alone... even with the guards."
Salvatore let out a slow, controlled sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly. "You’ll get used to it."
Milo shook his head frantically. "Please... just take me back to your house."
"What?" Salvatore’s tone sharpened slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his gray eyes. "I’m not throwing you away, Milo. What do you mean, ’take you back’? You are not a piece of property or a thing that I can keep or throw away."
Milo looked back down at his shoes, his voice cracking. "I just don’t want to stay here."
"What is it, Milo? What the hell is the problem with you today?" Salvatore asked, taking a heavy step toward him.
"I’m scared..."
"Of what? I already told you I’ll give you guards. You can call me anytime. No one will dare touch you."
"Then... I can’t see you anymore," Milo choked out, his shoulders shaking as the final admission left him exposed.
"What?"
Milo said nothing else. He pressed his lips tightly together, his chin trembling as he stared at the floor, looking utterly miserable and broken under the weight of his own unrequited feelings.
Salvatore stayed silent for five long seconds. The air in the room grew thick. He stepped into Milo’s personal space, reached out with his massive, calloused hand, and caught Milo by the chin. His fingers were firm, forcing Milo’s head up until their eyes locked.
"I hope you don’t see me as anything more than Salvatore Portello, the man who saved your life," Salvatore said, his voice dropping into a dangerously quiet, heavy register that made Milo’s breath freeze in his throat. "Because I can’t stand that kind of sentimentality."
Milo stared deeply into the dark gray irises of the man. The rejection was right there, cold and definitive, but the sheer physical proximity of the man made Milo’s pulse race frantically.
"I don’t want to feel it either," Milo whispered, his tears finally spilling over his eyelids. "But I do feel it. I can’t stop it."
Salvatore’s expression didn’t soften. Instead, his jaw clenched tightly. Without a single word of warning, he shifted his weight forward, his massive hand moving from Milo’s chin to his arm, and pulled Milo backward onto the bare mattress.
Milo gasped in shock as his back hit the bed. Before he could even process the movement, Salvatore’s heavy, solid body was on top of him, pinning him flat against the sheets.
The sheer, crushing weight of the man left Milo completely breathless. Salvatore reached up, his large hands locking around Milo’s wrists with a fierce, iron grip, and pulled his arms up over his head, anchoring them firmly against the mattress.
"Let’s see if you can actually handle me," Salvatore whispered, his face inches from Milo’s ear. The rough, hot vibration of his voice ran directly through Milo’s jaw, making his entire body freeze in absolute submission.
Milo’s breathing turned incredibly fast and shallow, his chest heaving violently against Salvatore’s torso. He could smell the concentrated scent of tobacco, and the heavy, dark masculine heat radiating from the man’s skin.
There was no gentleness in his stance, it was an absolute display of physical dominance.
"I am not a man who is satisfied with simple affection or love, Milo," Salvatore growled softly, his eyes locking onto Milo’s wide, terrified hazel irises with unyielding intensity.
"If you truly want me in your life, you have to handle exactly what I want. I don’t do soft relationships. I take total control."
He paused, his grip tightening around Milo’s wrists until he could feel the direct, unyielding pressure of Salvatore’s palm against the bone. He stared down into the young man’s pale face, gauging his reaction.
Milo was trembling, his muscles entirely tense beneath the Don’s weight, but his hazel eyes didn’t look away. His body was reacting with raw, honest compliance, his hips flattening against the mattress, completely paralyzed by the heavy, controlling nature of the situation.
"Do you want me to continue?" Salvatore demanded, his voice a low, fierce threat in the quiet room.
Milo swallowed hard, the roaring sound of his own heartbeat filling his ears as he looked at the hard, ruthless line of Salvatore’s jaw.
He was terrified of the dark side the man was showing him, but as he felt the absolute, unyielding security of Salvatore’s weight pinning him down, he knew he couldn’t run away. He didn’t want to be free if it meant being empty.
Milo nodded once against the pillow, his breath catching as he whispered his answer directly into the dark space between them.
"Yes... Please."
