Salvatore hadn’t slept all night after Joe tracked down the man suspected of shooting Ronald. In their world, power and money played a crucial role. Any information could be obtained.

Salvatore could get anything, except Macron’s whereabouts, for now. It proved his cousin had powerful connections. He was quite amazed at how the man could get people to agree to die for him. None of them had said a word.

He wiped the bloodstains from his shirt. When he emerged from the garden and entered the mansion, Roderick greeted him immediately.

"You need to sleep," Roderick said.

"What is it?" Salvatore asked, knowing the man wanted to report something.

"About Hartley."

Salvatore paced to the study and asked the man to follow him. Once inside, Roderick stood by the desk, holding his phone, then lowered it to look at Salvatore, who was already seated in his chair.

"Well?"

"Hartley had a strong relationship with Niccolo, as I recall," Roderick said. He leaned against the edge of the desk. "Niccolo mentioned them quite often. He was the one who protected them from the very beginning."

"You mean after my parents were killed?"

Roderick fell silent. "Well, I’m not sure. But as I recall, their business wasn’t as big back then as it is now. It has grown quite fast."

"It wouldn’t be surprising if Niccolo helped them."

Roderick nodded. He then provided some details regarding Hartley, but they didn’t satisfy Salvatore.

The man looked at Roderick with an impatient expression. "I know that already. Nothing else?"

"What exactly do you want to know?"

"I want to know about that boy. Milo."

Roderick sighed. He looked down at his phone as a new report arrived from his contact. He had already predicted what the man wanted.

"Well, they adopted him ten years ago. It was a legal process. But there’s no record of his biological parents. It’s like he appeared out of nowhere."

"No criminal cases reported involving him?"

Roderick shook his head firmly. "No."

Salvatore exhaled a long breath. He felt a strange tug in his chest every time he thought about the way Milo had looked when he was being dragged away. It was a sense of curiosity mixed with something he couldn’t name.

He was a man who didn’t like to wait. He needed to do something. He wanted to meet Milo.

"Make an appointment with Hartley. And ask them to bring Milo," ordered Salvatore.

Roderick looked at Salvatore, finding it rather odd that the man was genuinely interested in another man. "You want to sleep with him?"

Salvatore looked at Roderick, offended. "Does my face look like a pervert? I don’t sleep with strangers."

Roderick chuckled. "Well, okay. I’ll email them to set up a meeting later."

"No later. Do it now. I want them to come today."

***

Nero Hartley walked into the mansion. He had spent the day at his office, but all day his mind had been on Milo. He missed him so much, his scared face, his tears. He missed his broken voice screaming his name.

Especially after yesterday, Milo hadn’t moved from the bed. Nero was kind enough to let him rest.

Now he went straight up the stairs and toward Milo’s room, which was connected to his own room.

He expected to see Milo kneeling on the floor near the door. That was the rule. The young man knew what time he usually came back.

But when Nero opened the door, the room was quiet.

Milo was lying on the bed, curled into a ball on his side. He was naked, as always, his skin looking so pale against the dark sheets.

He was shivering, as if his body were trying to ward off the cold air hitting his skin, or the pain. His eyes were closed.

Nero’s brow furrowed. He walked toward the bed with heavy steps. He reached down and grabbed a handful of Milo’s hair, yanking his head up.

Milo gasped. His eyes flew open, but they were unfocused and red. He looked at Nero with a gaze full of terror, but his body didn’t move. He was too weak to react properly.

"N-Nero..." Milo whispered. His voice was shaking, thin and dry. He winced as the grip on his hair tightened.

Nero felt the heat radiating from Milo’s skin. He touched Milo’s forehead with his other hand. It was burning.

"The hell? You sick?"

Milo struggled to breathe. He felt like his head was being squeezed in a vice. His chest was on fire. The heavy gold rings in his nipples were throbbing with a sharp, rhythmic pain.

Every time he moved, the metal dragged across the raw, unhealed wounds. His lower body ached from the pounding of the night before. His manhood felt sore, and his internal organs felt like they were being crushed.

He didn’t know which pain to focus on. It was all too much.

"Damn!" Before he could say more, Nero’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

He let go of Milo’s hair, letting the young man’s head fall back onto the bed. Nero pulled out his phone and read the message from Roderick.

The second email today.

A smirk spread across Nero’s face. He let out a short laugh.

"Well, it seems someone is addicted to fucking you, Milo," Nero said. He sounded proud, as if he had just won a prize.

Milo didn’t say anything. He used his remaining strength to sit up. He knew he wasn’t allowed to stay lying down while Nero was talking.

He sat in the middle of the bed, his head hanging low. His body felt like it was made of lead. He wanted to collapse, but he knew the punishment for being lazy was worse than the fever.

Nero began typing a reply to Roderick. He decided he wouldn’t give Salvatore what he wanted right away. He wanted to make the Don wait.

He told Roderick that he would bring Milo to the Portello mansion in three days, but only for one hour. He wanted to keep Milo close. Milo was his most valuable possession.

He was quite surprised that Salvatore, the one who was hard to reach, had now emailed him twice to meet Milo.

Nero turned back to Milo. He reached out and grabbed Milo’s neck, his fingers pressing into the back of the boy’s skull. He kissed Milo’s lips with a rough, possessive movement.

He felt the heat on the young man’s lips. So hot, like lava. He pulled away soon after, he didn’t want to get sick.

Then he leaned toward Milo’s ear.

"It seems you did your job very well, Milo," Nero whispered. "Salvatore wants to meet you again."

Milo’s heart pounded against his ribs. He was confused. He had never slept with Salvatore. He had spent the whole day cleaning the house and helping the servants. He had barely seen the Don.

Why would Salvatore want to see him again? Why would he be "addicted" to a boy he hadn’t even touched?

"I told him he can come here in three days," Nero said. He stood up, and Milo flinched, expecting a blow.

"I care about you, Milo. I want to make sure your new jewelry is healed enough to handle his touch. And I want to make sure he sees your new collar. I want him to know exactly who you belong to."

Nero walked toward the door. "We should get the collar tonight. Victor said it would be ready. For now, I’m hungry. Get up, get me food!"

Milo took a deep breath. His lungs felt heavy. He stood up, but his legs were shaking so hard that he almost hit the floor. He caught himself on the bedpost.

The gold rings in his chest pulled on his skin, sending a jolt of pain through his torso. It felt like hot needles were being driven into his nipples.

He walked out of the room, his body naked and exposed. He walked through the hallways of the mansion toward the kitchen. He knew Nero wanted him to show off his body to the staff. It was a way to humiliate him further.

In the past, Milo had tried to cover himself, but that only led to more beatings. Now, he simply didn’t care. He walked past the guards and the maids.

The staff at the Hartley mansion were used to it. They didn’t look at him. They didn’t talk to him either. They knew that if they showed any sympathy for Milo, Nero would punish them too.

They simply handed him a tray of food for Nero.

Milo carried the tray back to the dining room. Every step was an effort. The weight of the tray made his arms shake. He reached the dining room and set the food down in front of Nero. Nero was sitting at the head of the table, looking at his phone.

"Eat well, Nero," Milo whispered. Then he retreated to the corner of the room.

He sank to his knees, waiting there. He felt his body burning up. The fever was getting worse. He closed his eyes and tried to stay conscious.

Later that night

The house was quiet. Nero was in his study, sitting on a sofa. He was reading a book and sipping a glass of wine.

The door to the study opened. Sean, Nero’s personal guard, walked in. His face was tense and he looked nervous.

"Nero," Sean said. "Salvatore is here."

Nero looked up from his book. He looked at Sean as if the man were speaking a foreign language. "What?"

"Salvatore Portello," Sean repeated. "He is here."

Nero frowned. It was impossible. He had sent a message telling him to wait three days. In the business world, you didn’t just show up at someone’s house without an invitation. It was a sign of disrespect.

"He’s waiting on the terrace," Sean said.

Nero smiled. "He couldn’t wait?"