His Little Ruin

Giovanni didn't even bother to knock, but that was the least of Milan’s concerns at the moment. Her entire being was trembling as she prayed earnestly to God to make him not think about checking the closet until Vito got angry enough to shoot him. Giovanni walked into her room, his loud scoff reaching her ears as he yanked her bed sheets to the floor. The thumping sound of her hardback book made her flinch hard and she almost gave up her location. “Milan, I have no time for your fucking hide-and-seek games. If you don’t come out in two minutes, I will make sure I rip whatever clothes you have on and degrade you right before I pass you to my guest, so he can rearrange your barren womb.” Giovanni threatened, his voice drenched with sickening terror that her legs nearly buckled in utmost fear. No, don’t go out. This is a trap. Wait till Vito gets impatient, she chants these words in her head, giving herself false hope because… what if Vito was patiently waiting for him to bring

Milan had been awake. The moment Vito shut off the engine of his car, she jolted back into consciousness, though she didn’t dare let him know she was awake. In her chest she prayed he would leave her in the car so she could escape, it would be easy enough to find something in his car to break the doors and disappear. That was what she thought she would do, until he gently lifted her into his arms. “Uhmh—” she whined, her fingers winding around his neck as she cracked one eye open to take in her surroundings. They were in an open space that looked like an estate. She closed her eyes again as Vito moved, the last fragile hope of escape dying when dark, measured voices called out to him in greeting. “Buongiorno, Capo,” they said. “Buongiorno, miei uomini,” Vito answered, authority seeping from his voice. Damn. He was the capo of La Tana di Salvatore now? What had happened to his uncle Luca? “Lock the gate and stay around. I will call you when I’m done,” Vito ordered, and

When Milan opened her eyes for the first time after the episode, she saw a calm, pretty woman. A doctor or a nurse, she could not tell. She noticed she had stopped shivering, but the memory of Vito witnessing her breakdown pressed against her temples, making her headache pulse stronger. “Signorina, how do you feel?” the petite woman asked gently. She had long black hair that framed her face and her doe-like eyes softened her expression as a warm smile curved her lips. Milan stiffened. “It is just momentary. I do not need a doctor,” she said, turning her head to avoid what she imagined would be a look of pity. She had survived her anxiety attacks and the distortions in her brain for a year now. A single episode would not kill her. “I know it was momentary, and you would have survived,” the doctor said. “That is not my question, signorina. How are you feeling? Any complaints?” She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and Milan reluctantly turned to face her. “I am fine,” she s

Milan’s eyes flashed with shock as Vito admitted, “My uncle, Luca. Four years ago. He backstabbed me.” She looked dumbfounded, trying to process the weight of his words. It was unnerving to think that the man who had taught him to kill had been the first person he ended up killing himself. “Lu… Luca? What did he do?” she asked, covering her mouth with her hand as astonishment swam in her brown-golden eyes. Vito’s jaw tightened. The memory was dark, unthinkable, but he simply shrugged. “You don’t have to know everything,” he said quietly. Milan seemed to understand. She didn't pressure him for answers. The momentary silence between them created an awkward tension. She looked away, fisting her hands, as if afraid to meet his eyes. “I need to go home now. Do you want to come with me?” Vito asked impulsively. Milan shook her head, letting her long hair fall over her face. “No. I would rather stay here until everything is resolved, then I’ll go back to the US.” Vito sighed,

“She’s not my girl. She’s…uhmm. Just a long-time best friend,” he muttered before he walked away and left her bewildered. Best friend? Was that really what he thought of her? No, it couldn’t be. “But that’s what he just said,” Milan reminded herself, her mind unconsciously trying to reconcile his words. After a long silence during which Mrs. Luigi simply smiled and nodded while giving Milan an assessing look, she finally spoke, her tone carrying a note of approval. “It’s a good thing you’re not involved with a man like Vito.” “Why would that be a good thing?” Milan asked softly. Mrs. Luigi exhaled deeply, the weight of her sigh filling the room before she caught herself and smiled again, her expression shifting into a cheerful grin. “I would like to match you with my Mateo. He is good-looking, tall, has a reasonable job, and will take care of you.” “You can go home now, Mrs. Luigi.” Vito’s cold voice cut through the quiet of the living room from wherever he was, and Milan fel