The silence in the bedroom was heavy now. Salvatore stood in the middle of the room, his chest still heaving slightly from the physical exertion of handling his friend.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked toward the small table near the window. He smirked.

"Get out," Salvatore said. His voice was not loud, but it was incredibly firm. "I know you are there."

Inside the closet, Milo felt his heart stop. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, wishing he could vanish into the expensive suits hanging around him.

Was Salvatore calling for him? How did the man know he was there? Had he made a sound?

Damn... You’re finished, Milo!

Milo gulped. He stayed there for quite a while, hoping maybe Salvatore was talking to someone else.

But the man was alone now. With him.

Salvatore stood up impatiently. "Milo, get out! I know you’re there!"

Milo held his breath as the man clearly called his name. How? How did the man know he was there?

He reached out with a shaking hand and pushed the closet door open.

Milo stepped out slowly. His clothes were wrinkled from crouching. His face was pale, but his cheeks were burning red, and he couldn’t bring himself to look Salvatore in the eye.

He walked slowly past the curtain and stopped there. He looked down.

Salvatore stood with his hands on his hips, staring at Milo, who looked pale and tense.

"I really hate intruders. Especially in my room," said Salvatore.

Milo gulped.

"I’m sorry, Sir. I... I just brought the tea," Milo whispered. He felt guilty and scared at the same time.

Salvatore noticed the tea on the tray. He knew someone must have been there. Not Felix or the guards, for sure, since they knew he hated it when they put things in his room without his permission.

And he saw movement as the figure walked closer. So he was certain someone was there. And with just a glance, he realized it was Milo.

Salvatore looked at him, his gaze sweeping over Milo’s messy hair and trembling hands. He didn’t look angry, but he looked incredibly tired.

He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of the silk sheets; his bare, tattooed chest looked intimidating under the lamplight.

"How much did you see?" Salvatore asked.

Milo turned to face the man, but he looked down. He swallowed hard. He didn’t want to lie, but the truth was embarrassing.

"Most... of it, Sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to watch. I just... I was trapped."

"Trapped yourself, you mean?"

Milo took a deep breath, embarrassed.

"Did you enjoy it?" Salvatore leaned back on his elbows.

Milo’s eyes went wide. He shook his head. "No! No, Sir! It wasn’t like that! I just thought... I thought you’d be tired. I just wanted to bring you tea. I didn’t know Mr. Felix was here."

Milo felt a pang of shame as he looked at the bed. After seeing how Salvatore treated Felix, he never expected Salvatore to have such a dark side.

Milo felt even more foolish for his earlier thoughts about himself. If Salvatore could reject someone like Felix—who was so handsome—so brutally, Milo knew he stood no chance.

But he felt his cheeks burning as he recalled Felix’s voice from Salvatore’s hard slap.

Milo looked at Salvatore before looking down again.

"I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to interfere with your... business," Milo added, his voice trailing off.

Salvatore watched him. He saw the way Milo was looking at the floor, his fingers twisting the hem of his shirt. The boy looked genuinely distressed.

Salvatore smiled.

He looked at the bed where Felix had just been tied up. He then looked back at Milo, and a small, cynical smirk touched his lips. He remembered how Milo had run to him days ago, begging to sleep with him in exchange for safety.

"You were very persistent about wanting to sleep with me when you first arrived," Salvatore said. His voice now had a teasing edge to it. "Do you want to sleep here now?"

Milo looked at Salvatore immediately, his eyes wide open. He gulped in panic.

Salvatore looked serious.

Milo thought fast. He analyzed the possibility that the man was serious. He wondered if he could handle the pain right now, being tied up, slapped, or perhaps whipped.

Oh, he was used to it. But...

Milo gulped again.

Salvatore chuckled. "I’m offering it to you. Do you want to sleep here?"

Milo looked at Salvatore. Was it okay to refuse?

Salvatore placed his hand on the bed, patting it teasingly. "Come..."

Milo shook his head. He could say no, right?

Salvatore stood up and laughed softly. "My little chicken."

Milo looked down as the man walked toward him. He closed his eyes, bracing for the worst. But he only felt a pat on his head.

"If you don’t get out right now, I’ll tie you up and keep you spread... wide... until morning," Salvatore whispered seductively into Milo’s ear.

Milo shivered. He stepped back, bowing repeatedly. Then he ran as fast as he could.

Salvatore just watched with a smile on his lips. At least now, Milo wouldn’t dare to enter his room.

***

Hartley Mansion.

That morning, Nero was pacing back and forth in front of his large desk. His face was flushed a deep red, and his breathing was heavy. He had spent the day shouting at everyone.

The mansion felt so tense.

Andro sat on the sofa across from the desk. He remained still, watching Nero with a weary expression. He had spoiled the man, and he knew that when Nero was in this state, reason was hard to apply.

"I want Milo back!" Nero shouted, slamming his fist onto the desk. The sound echoed off the high ceilings. "He is mine! How dare he take him like that?!"

Andro sighed and shifted in his seat. "Nero, we’ve discussed this. Salvatore isn’t Niccolo. He’s crazy. If you push him right now, you’re going to start a war we aren’t prepared to win."

"I don’t care!" Nero spun around to face his father, his eyes wide. "I want him back! I don’t care about anything. Please, Dad. Help me."

Andro sighed, looking down at his hands. He felt a deep sense of unease. He felt lost, too. He didn’t just want Milo back because of Nero’s obsession. He had noticed something over the years.

Since the day they had brought Milo into the house, their business had grown significantly. Deals that should have failed suddenly succeeded. Everything went smoothly.

Andro believed that Milo brought a specific kind of luck to his family, even if he didn’t fully understand how it could happen.

Losing Milo felt like losing a protective shield. But the fear of Salvatore Portello was stronger than his superstition.

"If you really care about him, why did you bring him to Salvatore in the first place?" Andro asked, his voice sharp with frustration. "You’re the crazy one here, Nero. You handed him over for what? To show off? Now he wants him and you’re angry."

Nero stopped pacing. He stared at the wall, his jaw tight. "Who knew he’d be interested in that bitch? He was supposed to serve just one night. I didn’t think Salvatore would actually be interested in him."

"Well, I really don’t know," Andro said. "You should’ve taken better care of the boy if you really liked him. You treated him like a dog. Now he has him, and he’s not going to let go just because you’re throwing a tantrum."

Nero’s anger flared again. He walked to the bar cart and poured himself a large glass of whiskey, drinking it in one gulp.

"We can destroy them. Salvatore is new, what can he do? He thinks he owns everyone just because he has the Portello name. That bastard! He’ll be destroyed soon!"

"He has the power to do it," Andro interrupted. "And he has backing from people stronger than you think. Don’t be stupid. If you attack him, you’re signing your own death warrant. He has more power, more money, and more influence than his uncle Niccolo ever had."

Nero gripped the empty glass so hard his knuckles turned white. "So I just sit here? I just let him keep Milo? No way! No fucking way!!"

"Calm down!" Andro said firmly. "You have to wait. If you move too fast, you lose everything. We’ll see. He might get bored soon."

Nero didn’t answer. He turned back to the window, looking out over the garden. The silence in the office was cold.

He didn’t care about the business or the shipping lines at that moment. He only thought about Milo, how he’d betrayed him. He wanted Milo to pay for it. He wanted the young man to come back to him.

"Three days," Nero whispered. "I told him three days. If Milo isn’t back by then, I don’t care what you say. I’m going to get him."

Andro looked at Nero’s back and felt a chill. He knew Nero was serious. He stood up slowly, realizing there was no point in arguing anymore, and walked toward the door.

"Be careful. I won’t start a war with him myself. You should think before you act."

Andro left the room, leaving Nero alone with his rage.

Nero looked at his reflection in the dark window and saw a man who was slowly losing control of his world. He wanted Milo back, and he was willing to burn the city down to make it happen.