Chapter 134: Permission
Days had passed. The heavy, dark fog that usually settled over Milo’s mind had thinned out, replaced by a quiet, daily routine that still felt foreign to him.
It was nearly eight in the evening. The main company of the Hartley Group was quiet, the glass tower glowing softly against the dark sky. Most of the staff had left, leaving only a few people on the upper levels.
Milo sat on a stone bench in the courtyard behind the lobby. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of fresh grass and cut stone. He looked up, his hazel eyes tracking the perfect, round shape of the full moon rising above the skyline.
So beautiful.
"Is it a dream?" Milo whispered to the empty air. He didn’t believe he actually had this kind of life.
For years, his entire universe had been bounded by walls he couldn’t escape and the certainty of physical pain whenever Nero was angry. He had even been afraid to breathe. He remembered it very well.
Now, he had a comfortable bedroom to sleep in, a thick duvet that kept the cold out, delicious hot meals prepared for him every single day, and a man whose absolute, terrifying power was used entirely to shield him from the world.
He felt an intense, overwhelming wave of gratitude that made his throat tighten. He was safe.
He looked at his hands. He had this life. It was not a dream.
Milo smelled the air, filling his lungs. At least he was alone today. And he enjoyed it.
Liam had called in sick, and Milo had started to get used to the routine.
It’s just that he couldn’t get away from the guards even when he was alone like this. They stood far behind him. They didn’t crowd him, but their physical presence was a constant anchor.
Then the sound of soft leather shoes crunching against the gravel made Milo turn his head.
A young man in his late twenties walked out into the courtyard, holding two paper coffee cups in his hands.
The man was someone Milo knew as Franc. He was the junior marketing director, a slim, sharp-faced man with bright blue eyes and a neat haircut.
The guards near the door checked his security badge, recognized his face, and stepped back, allowing him to approach the bench without drawing their weapons.
Milo turned around and smiled instantly, his shoulders relaxing as he saw the familiar face. Franc had been one of the very few people who were genuinely nice to him.
"You didn’t go home yet, Franc?" Milo asked, his voice soft and welcoming.
"No, I just finished something," Franc said, offering a warm, easy smile as he extended one of the paper cups toward Milo. "I will head home soon. How about you, Milo? Why are you alone here?"
"It’s nice here. I will go home soon too. Thank you," Milo said, taking the warm cup between his palms. The heat felt incredibly comforting against his skin. "I am just waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up."
Franc’s blue eyes glinted with teasing, highly amused warmth as he sat down on the opposite end of the stone bench. "Oh? Mr. Portello?"
Milo’s cheeks flushed a sudden, pretty pink. He looked down at his coffee cup, a shy, helpless smile touching his lips.
"Yes..." He shifted the cup between his hands, eager to change the subject before his face turned completely red. "Ah, by the way... thank you so much for the vase you gave me yesterday. It was really nice. I didn’t expect it."
Franc nodded quickly, his expression bright with pride. "I made it myself. You know, I am quite good at drawing and painting. It is exactly why I do so much work for the marketing advertisements. I truly love my job here."
"I can see it," Milo said sincerely, his hazel eyes clear. "You are really good at it, Franc. I put the vase on my desk. I just need to buy some fresh flowers to put inside it now."
Franc chuckled, taking a slow sip from his own cup. "Well, we have our own corporate florist. They handle the floral arrangements for the company. I will tell them to bring a fresh bunch of flowers up to your office every morning."
Milo widened his eyes, his hands tightening around his coffee. "Oh, no... there is no need for that. I don’t want to cause extra work."
"It is their job, Milo," Franc pointed out with a gentle shrug. "Don’t worry about that."
"I don’t know if I can just ask for things like that," Milo murmured, his old habits of survival making him hesitate to ask for any luxury.
"Really. Don’t worry. You just need to ask Liam about it. I’m sure he understands," Franc explained smoothly. He gestured toward Milo’s cup. "Anyway, please drink your coffee before the wind turns it cold. I added a little bit of white sugar. I think you prefer it that way, right?"
Milo nodded, taking a small sip of the hot liquid. The sweet, creamy flavor hit his tongue instantly, making him let out a soft sigh of satisfaction. "Yes... thank you. I can’t drink coffee without sugar. It tastes too bitter for me."
They sat in a comfortable, easy silence for a few minutes, the distant sound of city traffic humming beyond the courtyard walls.
Franc watched Milo’s profile in the moonlight, his expression turning slightly hesitant as he shifted his weight on the stone bench.
"Milo," Franc said after a long pause, his voice dropping into something quieter and more personal. "Do you have free time tomorrow?"
Milo turned his head to look at him, his brow furrowing slightly. "Time? For what?"
Franc let out a short, slightly embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as his blue eyes avoided Milo’s gaze for a second. "Well... I don’t want to look completely miserable or lonely. But tomorrow is actually my birthday. Do you mind spending some time with me after work?"
Milo’s face lit up instantly with genuine, happy surprise. "Your birthday? Oh, Franc! You have to enjoy your day fully. Well... I think we can definitely go somewhere."
Franc’s blue eyes widened slightly, a flash of eager excitement crossing his sharp features. "Do you mind if I buy us two tickets to the new movie at the central theater?"
Milo went completely quiet, his fingers freezing against the paper cup. The excitement in his chest instantly collided with the rigid, absolute reality of his life at the estate.
He belonged to Salvatore. Every single movement outside the mansion walls had to be vetted, monitored, and cleared by the man’s security detail. He couldn’t just walk into a public theater on a whim with someone.
"Can I... can I ask my boyfriend about it first?" Milo asked carefully, his voice a little soft. "I will tell you tomorrow."
The warm, easy smile completely vanished from Franc’s face. His posture went slightly stiff, his blue eyes turning cool and anxious as he stared at Milo. "Oh... no problem. Actually, you know what? I think... it is completely inappropriate to ask your boyfriend about such a small thing. Just forget I mentioned the movie, Milo."
Milo blinked, his heart giving a small, uncomfortable twist at the sudden shift in Franc’s demeanor. He felt an immediate wave of guilt, worried that he had insulted his friend. "Why? Why can’t I ask him? I’m sure he is completely fine with it, Franc. He lets me go to the office every day."
"No, please," Franc insisted quickly, standing up from the stone bench and smoothing down his jacket with a tight, nervous motion. "Don’t tell him anything about it. I don’t want Mr. Portello to think I am interfering with his... boyfriend. Have a good evening, Milo."
Without waiting for a response, Franc turned on his heel and walked rapidly back through the glass entry doors, his empty coffee cup clutched tightly in his fist.
Milo watched him disappear into the bright lobby, a heavy, sick feeling settling into his stomach. He felt terrible. Franc was one of the very few people who treated him like a normal human being, and now he had made the man feel excluded or afraid.
That night in the office, Salvatore sat behind his desk, his wool vest unbuttoned, a small cigar burning slowly in the glass tray near his hand. He was alone with his phone, and he looked so serious when there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," Salvatore commanded flatly.
Milo pushed the door open. He didn’t wait. He walked directly across the room, stopping right beside the edge of the desk. His hands were clasped tightly in front of his trousers, his hazel eyes wide and filled with desperate, intense hope.
"Sir..." Milo began, his voice trembling slightly with nervousness. "I... I want to ask your permission for something tomorrow after work."
Salvatore looked up from his phone immediately. But he signed something before setting his phone down, his gray eyes locking onto Milo’s flushed face with an unyielding, calm focus. "What is it, Milo? Why are you still awake? Do you want to play?"
"No... I mean not now. I just want to go to the central theater to see a movie tomorrow at five," Milo said all at once, the words rushing out of his mouth before he could lose his courage.
Salvatore was silent.
"With Franc. From the marketing division. Tomorrow is his birthday, Sir, and he doesn’t have anyone to spend it with. He has been nice to me since I started there. I really want to go with him."
Salvatore listened to the entire request without a single interruption. He studied the intense, anxious line of Milo’s jaw and the tight grip of his fingers.
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