Chapter 137: The Crazy Woman
Salvatore didn’t believe her, but before he could speak, the woman was already gone.
Just gone.
Salvatore stood frozen for a beat longer than he wanted to admit, his boots rooted to the damp gravel as he watched the space where the old woman had vanished beyond the gate.
"What the hell is going on? Where is she?!" Salvatore shouted, looking around him.
Beside him, Roderick was slowly flexing his fingers, staring down at his palm and testing the feeling in his knuckles as if he didn’t fully trust his own nervous system yet.
"Is she human?" asked Roderick, equally shocked.
"Of course she’s human. She just talked to us."
"But she vanished like a ghost."
Roderick felt uneasy. "Who is she referring to? Milo? What’s going on?"
Salvatore sighed. He didn’t want to tell anyone about Milo’s ability, especially not Roderick, whom Milo had read was going to die soon.
"I think so. We’re not telling Milo about this," Salvatore said finally, his deep voice carrying a hard, flat finality as he turned back toward the idling car. "We go back."
"Well, okay," Roderick muttered, though he was really curious about it. "What kind of curse is it?"
"Don’t mind her. She’s probably just a crazy woman running around scaring people."
"But I don’t know why everyone wants Milo to die." Even Alben. But he didn’t say anything about it. "Anyway, she might be right that Milo will bring you bad luck."
Salvatore shot him a sharp, warning glare, and Roderick raised both hands in a brief gesture of surrender, though the deflection had come out much flatter than he intended.
Neither of them said another word as they climbed back into the car.
"Find out who she is," Salvatore said again, his voice dropping quieter as the car pulled away. "I want a name and a background by tonight."
Roderick kept his eyes fixed on the slick road ahead. "Why do you care if she’s just a crazy woman, as you said?"
"I just want to know what kind of crazy woman she is," Salvatore said.
Roderick didn’t answer that one. He just gripped the steering wheel harder and drove.
On the way, Salvatore suddenly asked him to turn around.
"Liam already brought him home. No need to go to his office. Just go home now," said Salvatore.
Roderick just smiled. "Seems Liam knows you better now."
"Oh, he better." Salvatore lit his cigarette and looked out the window. Though he tried to erase what the old woman had said, her voice lingered in his mind.
Kill him while you still have the chance.
Who is she? What’s her connection with Milo, and who cursed Milo, if it was true?
By the time he made it back to the mansion, the strange, suffocating tightness in his chest hadn’t fully faded, but he pushed the unease down into the dark corners of his mind.
He looked for Milo, and a guard told him Milo was in the kitchen with Teo.
He found Milo in the kitchen, standing near the counter slicing fresh apples and talking to Teo happily. He didn’t know what they were talking about that made Teo giggle.
"Having fun?" asked Salvatore.
Teo stood up straight and smiled. "You came back very early."
"Yes. I have something to do with Milo. Milo, come to the dining room." Salvatore then looked at Michelle, who was there preparing lunch.
Once in the dining room, Milo sat beside him. He was happy to see the man but curious why he had asked him to come.
"You’re back early," Milo said. "Liam told me to come home today. Did something happen?"
"No. I just wanted to have lunch with you," Salvatore said, shrugging off his suit jacket.
Milo’s mouth curved into a small, shy smile before he looked down. "I was about to have an apple."
"An apple is not enough. Eat well with me," Salvatore said.
Milo smiled. He looked at Salvatore for a long moment. He remembered Liam asking him to stay away from Franc. What had happened to the man?
Salvatore reached across the table, his massive, calloused hand covering Milo’s small knuckles, his thumb brushing slowly over the skin to ground him.
"How was your day?" Salvatore asked, studying the subtle shifts in Milo’s face.
Milo’s shoulders tensed slightly, his breath hitching. "It was good. The birthday party at the office was nice. Franc was very grateful for it. Thank you, Sir. I didn’t know you asked Liam to prepare it."
"No problem. And how is that man?"
"You mean Franc?"
Milo’s eyes flicked up sharply, a sudden wave of nervous panic crossing his features at the direct, unvarnished question. He went entirely quiet, his fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt sleeve as a dark blush began to stain his cheeks.
"He was happy."
"And why did he hold your hand?"
"Ah... yes, he only held my hand," Milo admitted, his voice dropping into a small, broken whisper, as though he were confessing a shameful crime, assuming Salvatore might be angry about it. And he was sure Liam had told the man.
"He just held my hand after the celebration. I didn’t think... I didn’t think it mattered because we’re just friends."
Salvatore looked calm, but his jaw tightened, a visible muscle jumping near his ear, though he kept his voice perfectly even. The dark, possessive jealousy that had been curling low beneath his ribs since the afternoon flared up with a sudden, hot intensity.
He hated the idea of another man’s fingers touching the skin he had marked. He reached up, his large hand cupping the side of Milo’s face, his thumb pressing firmly against his jawline to tilt his head upward until their eyes locked.
"I don’t like sharing what’s mine, Milo," Salvatore said simply, the raw authority in his tone.
Milo’s breath caught, the heat in his face deepening into a bright, pretty crimson. "I’m not his. I’m yours," he whispered frantically, his hazel eyes wide and earnest as he clutched Salvatore’s wrist. "You know I’m not his, Master. I belong to you."
"I know." Salvatore’s thumb brushed along Milo’s cheekbone, softening the pressure just enough to soothe the panic. "But I still don’t like another man testing my boundaries. It’s not your fault. But I want you to know that I hate anyone touching you."
Milo’s lips parted as if he wanted to beg for reassurance, but Salvatore leaned in first, crushing his mouth in a slow, deep, unhurried kiss.
One massive hand slid to the back of Milo’s neck, anchoring him. Milo melted into the contact instantly, a small, helpless whimper escaping against Salvatore’s lips as his entire body went pliant.
"Sir..." Milo murmured breathlessly when they finally broke apart, his eyes cloudy and heavy with immediate arousal.
"Tell me if you’re not comfortable with my behavior," said Salvatore gently, holding Milo’s cheek.
Milo gulped. He didn’t find anything wrong with it. Franc had told him to be careful, but he didn’t know what he needed to be aware of. Salvatore protected him, that was what he believed.
And he was grateful for it.
Michelle stood there for quite a while, witnessing their intimacy before she walked in with the food.
Milo gasped as Salvatore still hugged him. Their chairs were so close together now.
"I’m sorry..." Michelle looked at them.
Salvatore smiled, released his embrace, and sat back in his chair. "Give him more vegetables."
Michelle placed the food in front of Salvatore and nodded. "Sure. Do you want anything else?"
Salvatore looked at the fish on his plate. "No. Bring him some juice too."
Michelle looked at Milo and smiled teasingly. "Oh, sure!"
Milo gulped. Once Michelle left the dining room, he looked at Salvatore. "Sir, you make me uncomfortable."
"Why?"
"You care about me too much."
"Is that wrong?"
"No, just..."
"I just need you to eat well and stay healthy."
Milo just nodded. He didn’t say anything, though he was sure everyone was talking about them now.
After they finished the meal, Salvatore looked at Milo.
"Go up to the dark room, Milo," Salvatore said quietly, his lips brushing once more against Milo’s damp temple. "Strip completely and wait for me. I’ll be there soon."
Milo’s eyes lit with something incredibly eager beneath his natural shyness. The man wanted to play with him at this time?
But he nodded quickly, standing from the table without another word as he hurried out of the dining area.
Milo looked around the dark room. The room always had the light on. Milo had learned over the last few times that Salvatore never took his sight away completely unless a silk blindfold was used. It seemed the man preferred just enough light to watch his skin flush.
Milo unbuttoned his suit jacket, letting his clothes fall into a messy pile on the floor until he was completely naked, his pale skin shivering slightly in the cool air of the room.
The bruises from his past were faint now, but the rich, sensitive skin of his inner thighs was bare and waiting.
He knelt on the thick carpet near the foot of the bed, his hands resting flat on his thighs, his head bowed as he listened to the heavy ticking of the clock.
His heartbeat hammered hard against his ribs, driven by anticipation.
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