Trying to escape the boss was obviously always going to end badlyandwith some kind of punishment. My knees drew closer at that thought, squeezing together, and it took me a moment to understand that my brain was conjuring images of himspankingme, not murdering me for a punishment.
I cleared my throat, banishing the images with a shake of my head. “What are you gonna do, Milan? Kill me?”
His body tensed, and I watched the moment his pupils shifted from beingMilanwith honey brown eyes to theCapowith eyes as dark as the sins he’d committed. He stared at me, forcing my heart to stutter like a predator hunting his prey.
Still, I didn’t miss how his dick twitched in his hand.
“IfI killed you,” he said slowly, each word rumbling around the room, “who would paint Matteo’s cock in such detail? I assume this would cause his ego to malfunction as you have obviously exaggerated quite a bit.”
My brain pleaded with me not to laugh, to never give him the satisfaction of fixing the tension in the room, but it wasn’t long before it burst out of me and his lips twitched, not quite smiling but trying to.
Damn Milan fucking Lucca.
“Shut up.” I smiled, hiding my face behind the easel. “Or I’ll paint your dick limp and tiny.”
“I am wounded, Sicily,” Milan said, so plainly that I laughed again.
What the hell was wrong with me? This man was an animal, one capable of murder in the most heinous of ways, though right now hewasn’t.
A beat of silence passed as I began to mix paints, forming just the right combination for his skin tone. His sarcasm stuck in my mind, ruminating there until I blurted, "Do you actually feel upset?”
He raised a brow. “Not about having a tiny limp penis, no. I am aware this is not the truth.”
My cheeks heated. “I mean… Do you feel upset…ever?”
“No. I do not experience emotion in the way others do. Each action I take is programmed; I am aware that if I act in a specific way, it will have a logically beneficial reaction, but…” He frowned up at the ceiling, his eyes flickering between different points as if there were answers there. “Occasionally, there are situations that remove my ability to act within my expected parameters, and I am overtaken by basic instinct. This is incredibly unacceptable, but I cannot control it.”
A life without feeling was unimaginable. I felteverything,even what wasn’t mine to feel, and I was certain that what I’d felt within me was Milan’s pain over his brothers at the wedding, his anger at Matteo.
Milandidfeel, I’d seen it on his face, so why did he believe he couldn’t?
“Were you always this way?” I probed.
He shook his head. “I used to smile a lot. And laugh. I always required repetition and order, and I never enjoyed many social situations, but I was aware that what I was experiencing was unhappiness or anxiety. Over time, my ability to recognize these emotions within myself worsened, and now I cannot identify them easily within others. It changed…Ichanged.”
“What changed?” I didn’t want to ask the question because I was certain I didn’t want to know the answer, but he was distracted for once, and I needed the information.
“I cannot tell you.”
I paused. “Why not?”
“It would result in my death.”
13
SICILY
Milan had expertly avoidedme since dropping the bomb about his death by truth a few days ago. I had a feeling it was linked to whatever had happened with his mom and sister, but also why Brenno Fera was convinced he had ruined their lives.
My husband was no more familiar to me than he had been on the day of our wedding. He was more shrouded in mystery than ever, but at least I had grown even closer to Adriano. Though he hadn’t let slip any of the information I needed to know, he had lived with Milan long enough that he had to know something. It would only be a matter of time before he started unraveling too, I was sure of it, and I would jump at any chance to learn what I could, even if that meant horror movies.
I sat huddled on the couch in a black hoodie fit for a giant. I’d found it on the upstairs banister, and though it definitely belonged to either Milan or Adriano, it was mine if I had to subject myself to Adriano’s favorite movies.My hand stuffed into the bowl of buttery popcorn on Adriano’s lap, hiding behind his shoulder as the demons in this stupid movie jumped out at us every few seconds.
Adriano and Milan never seemed to stop working, so when he’d asked me to hang out, I’d of course agreed. It beat being alone any day.
“So,” Adriano said around a mouthful of popcorn. “Why is there a giant portrait of Milan jerking off in the hallway?”
I was glad the lights were off so he couldn’t see the flush creeping up my neck. “He’s not jerking off, he’s just…holding it. Why is it in the hallway?”
