10- Tension in the Mansion

“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 felt a chill run down her spine despite the warmth of the early spring evening.

“I should go. My son will be worried if I stay out too late.” Mrs. Luigi rose gracefully, her smile unwavering. “All the rooms are clean, and you can pick anyone to sleep in.” She added before moving toward the coat rack.

Milan’s heart skipped as she watched Mrs. Luigi leave, the older woman’s smile lingering in her mind. She had wanted to tell her that she would be leaving tomorrow and that Mateo would be staying with her at Angels Den, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. Mrs. Luigi was already scheming to match her with Mateo, and Milan did not want to give her any reason to think she was infatuated. Especially not with Vito thinking she was already soft for him. That thought made her chest tighten.

Gradually, her mind drifted to the small, secret life growing inside her. Would it be a boy or a girl?

Spring had only just arrived, and with it came a strange, unsettling calm that made her aware of every detail around her.

Milan shifted slightly, her hand brushing unconsciously over her stomach.

Five weeks. She had been pregnant for five weeks. The realization pressed against her chest, both thrilling and terrifying.

If she kept this baby, her mind calculated the months with quiet precision. Five weeks in meant roughly thirty-five weeks to go, placing the due date in late November or early December. Autumn would be giving way to the first hints of winter by then.

Her pulse trembled at the thought—not from cold, but from the implications.

She allowed herself a quick, private exhale. No one could know yet. Not Vito, not Antonio. The knowledge was hers alone for now, a fragile secret she had to protect.

The house was quiet now, but the silence huddled in like a living thing.

Vito had disappeared somewhere, and she almost thought he had gone to bed. Then he reappeared, the sight of him causing her body to thrum in reaction.

He had changed out of his black shirt and now wore a ripped polo, the family sigil stitched prominently across his chest. His hair looked slightly ruffled, not wet, giving the impression he had not showered, yet she could not stop the faint, unwanted image of him in the bathroom from flashing in her mind.

“Are you considering being a carnivore now?” he muttered, his violet eyes locking onto hers.

Milan snapped her gaze to him. “It’s not what you are thinking!” she exclaimed, though her pulse raced. Her mind scrambled to reassure itself.

What she was thinking had nothing to do with him in that way. Not yet, at least.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk as he took a step closer.

Each step seemed deliberate like it was designed to make her small, to unnerve her.

Vito did not avert his gaze, not once. Their intensity made her swallow hard.

“I said, its not what you’re thinking.” She gasped.

“What do you think I’m thinking, Milo?” Vito’s voice was low, surrounding her, and carrying the assertiveness of someone who could do and undo. And that scared the living hell out of Milan.

Her stomach fluttered nervously, and she hugged herself without realizing it.

Keep it together. He cannot know. Not yet. Breathe. She tried to steady her voice.

“You’re probably thinking that I’m overestimating your appetite for conversation,” she said, forcing a small smile, though her chest tightened.

Vito’s smirk deepened, and he stepped even closer. Milan could feel the heat radiating off him, a potent, unrelenting presence. Her pulse thudded in her ears as her mind started to spin.

Why does he have this effect on me? I can’t even think straight when he's around. This isn't good.

“You’re distracted,” he stated plainly, his attentive gaze scanning her face as if he could unravel her thoughts.

“I—” she faltered, suddenly aware of the secret she carried, the life she had not shared with anyone except the doctor. He must not know. She swallowed hard again, the pressure of her secret heavy on her mind as if it could burst out at any moment.

I’ve sworn I wouldn’t let him know about my baby. At least not yet.

Vito’s presence loomed larger when he finally sat beside her on the long, purple couch

Milan felt both trapped and inexplicably drawn to him. She hated that he could command such control over her emotions without even touching her. Her hands flexed at her sides, fingers itching to move, to do something, anything, to distract herself from the tension.

“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?” Vito said, his voice barely above a whisper, and the faintest challenge laced his tone.

Milan’s mind screamed at her to deny it, yet she couldn’t fully.

Not like that. I’m just… aware of him. He’s dangerous, untrustworthy, maddeningly infuriating. I’m not thinking what he thinks I am. She repeated to herself, and adjusted her stance subtly to keep her distance, but failing to hide the tremor in her hands.

Vito’s violet eyes glimmered with amusement, and a mischievous grin curled his lips as he closed the tiny space between them.

The air between them thickened, almost tactile, charged with tension and unspoken words.

Milan’s stomach twisted. She could feel the baby inside her, a reminder of her hidden truth, and her mind raced with plans and fears.

If he ever knew, would he use it? Would Antonio? Could I survive that?

Milan’s lips parted slightly to speak but she was caught between denial and fascination. She could not give him the satisfaction of certainty, yet she could not entirely mask the storm he stirred in her. Her mind flitted briefly to the future, the pregnancy, and the precarious balance of secrets she now carried.

I cannot let him know, not yet. I need a plan. I need control.

Vito remained there, unmoving yet impossibly present. He was watching her. He was like a storm contained only by the walls of the room and the distance she fought to maintain.

The silence stretched, heavy and potent, charged with danger, allure, and the implied threads of attraction neither of them dared to explore.

“You feel that too, don’t you?” His voice was a low rumble, vibrating through the quiet room. He leaned just slightly closer, enough that the faint scent of his cologne—smoky, dark, and undeniably him—slipped into her senses.

Her pulse accelerated, and she found herself struggling to focus, to think past the primal reaction his overwhelming presence stirred in her.

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” Milan whispered, though her voice trembled despite her effort to sound steady.

She could feel the weight of his gaze on her face, tracking every flicker of expression, every microreaction, and it unnerved her in a way that made her heart beat thrum in her ears.

This is ridiculous. He’s dangerous. I should be terrified. But… why am I not?

His hand moved, slow and deliberate, just grazing the back of her arm. The touch was light, teasing, yet it sent a shock of awareness through her body. Her stomach fluttered, and she instinctively pressed a hand against it. The secret life inside her suddenly feels impossibly fragile.

“You’re holding back,” Vito murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. “You always do.”

Milan swallowed, forcing herself to stand up, just enough to reclaim a fraction of control. She couldn’t let him see how much his presence unhinged her. She couldn’t let him know about the baby. That knowledge would change everything between them. If he ever discovers it, he’ll use it. Antonio will know. I cannot let that happen.