7- A Bruise Beneath the Lace

Vito approached the bed, his footsteps calm and measured. “Relax, Milo. You are safe here,” he said, his voice calm but commanding.

Milan wanted to speak, to explain everything she felt, but words failed her. Instead, she just nodded slightly, her chest rising and falling as she tried to control her trembling.

“You are stronger than fear, and you know it,” Vito told her quietly.

Milan nodded again, the pressure of her pregnancy pressing at her mind again. A small part of her recoiled at the thought of keeping the baby. Another part, unbidden, felt a spark of cautious hope, fragile but undeniable. She did not know what she would do yet, but she knew Vito’s presence meant she would not face it alone.

Milan wanted to believe that she wasn't alone but the truth kept nipping at the back of her mind. Giovanni is dead. Vito killed him. If he discovered that —she was carrying Giovanni’s child.

A cold wave of panic washed over her. She could not tell him, not yet. Not when his stuff is in the hands of Antonio, her shrewd brother-in-law. He could use her child as a bargaining chip.

Her stomach twisted at the thought, and she bit hard on her lower lip as if to prevent a rising panic attack.

“I can’t stay here. I can’t stay with you,” she muttered, her voice filled with terror. “I need to leave. I can’t… this isn’t safe for me.” Her heart pounded as her mind confused him with all the other dangerous men she had ever faced.

“Who was the girl who said ‘I can bring Antonio to you?’ then boldly asked if I did not believe she could?”

Milan blinked, remembering her confident words earlier while he had been talking with Mateo.

Damn the booze, she thought bitterly.

Before she could answer, he was already in front of her. He climbed onto the bed, grabbed her chin, and forced her eyes to meet his.

“Listen, Milan. Giovanni is dead.” He said with a tight jaw. “His brother, Antonio, will also be dead the day he sets eyes on me. If they both somehow resurrect, I will send them straight back to hell,” his voice low and dark.

Those words were like a shield of security against the chaos in her mind.

Milan’s eyes fluttered, and before she realized it, she hugged him tightly, her small hands hugging the back of his neck. Her face rested against his neck and she took a deep breath.

She felt safe. It was a crazy sensation, being in the arms of one of the most dangerous men she knew, but she trusted Vito Salvatore completely.

“Thank you, Vito. That is assuring,” she whispered, letting the sense of security settle over her.

If my brain had been manipulated by Giovanni for the past 20 months, then it must still remember how Vito had teased and taunted me for a good eight years, without ever physically hurting me.

“I believe you,” A smile lifts Milan's lips as she whispers to Vito.

Suddenly, he pushed her off him, and she winced at the unexpected shove.

“You heard us?” Vito asked, adjusting his posture as if he was uncomfortable.

Milan scowled. What’s wrong with him? He had just reassured her, and now he acted like a goat.

“Heard what?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Vito hesitated, his expression unreadable, and then looked away again.

“Did you share a secret with Mateo when I was unconscious?” she asked, suspicion and mischief dancing in her eyes.

Vito turned back to her, visibly nervous, and for a moment, she wanted to laugh. His rare uncertainty was amusing, though she did not.

She began to pout, inwardly mocking him in Italian. “You can be dangerous but do not want to be embarrassed?”

Before she could question him again, he returned in Italian. “How do you intend to make Antonio see you?”

Milan froze, not expecting him to bring up the subject. Vito noticed and quickly added in fluent English, “You do not have to do this. I am just asking.”

Her chest tightened, but she forced a shrug. “I… that’s just talk,” she mumbled, masking the truth with a fragile smile.

“You don’t have to bring Antonio to me,” Vito said after a beat, his voice softening. “It’s not necessary. I will get him one way or the other.”

Milan’s mind raced. She knew what she could do to secure her own freedom. “I still can,” she said cautiously, her voice steady despite the fear curling in her stomach. “I can bring Antonio to you… But after that, you must promise to let me go.”

Vito’s smirk softened into a measured nod. “Agreed,” Then his gaze sharpened as he leaned slightly closer. “How do you plan to bring him to me?”

Milan’s heart pounded. She could not reveal the truth about the baby, not yet. Not while Vito’s presence alone made her feel trapped and exposed.

She bit her lip and shook her head subtly, keeping her plan hidden.

“I’ll figure it out,” she muttered, carefully neutral, keeping her thoughts and her secret guarded.

As her mind raced with strategies, her body began to tremble again.

Vito, sharp-eyed and alert, immediately noticed and took her hands in his.

“No one can hurt you as long as I’m alive,” he said to comfort her. Yet Milan’s chest tightened with unease; she knew what he meant—no one but him.

Despite the reassurance, she could not fully trust him. Vito would never physically harm her, she was certain of that. But he had a way of getting under her skin, of dominating without striking, and she knew it all too well.

Her thoughts flickered back to the life growing inside her. She was not sure if she would keep it yet, but she knew she had to protect it from Antonio. If he discovered that Giovanni was dead and that she had vanished, she would instantly become his target. The thought of him learning that she was now living with Vito Salvatore made the knot in her stomach tighter. She could not bear to imagine what he would do.

I can survive this, she told herself, as long as I don’t let Vito know the truth.

Vito studied her silently for a long moment before leaning back and giving her a measure of space. He knew she believed he could keep her safe, yet he felt uncertain. She was no ordinary woman; she was Rocci’s widow, and that alone made everything more complicated.

Milan exhaled quietly, her fingers brushing over her stomach, the secret of her pregnancy locked tightly within her. She fought to steady her breathing as Vito’s gaze bore into her.

“Care to tell me about your plans to draw Antonio out?” he asked again, breaking the heavy silence.

She straightened slightly, gathering her thoughts. “Antonio is Giovanni’s only family,” she began carefully. “Making him my only family in Milan after I married his little brother. He was our witness in court and keeps our marriage certificate. Antonio values family, and if he learns that you kidnapped me after killing his brother, he will do everything he can to rescue me, especially if you spread the news that I am pregnant.” Her eyes flicked to Vito, studying his reaction closely to gauge how he would respond.

Vito’s expression darkened, the corners of his eyes narrowing. “But you are not pregnant, are you?”

Milan swallowed, the lump in her throat making her pulse quicken. She met his gaze for a long moment before shaking her head. “No, I’m not pregnant. It’s just a way to lure him out.”

Relief softened the tension in Vito’s shoulders, and he let out a low sigh. His violet eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them, before he finally relaxed.

“That is brilliant, but I do not want anyone to know that I was the one who killed Giovanni yet,” he muttered, and she frowned. Since when did he hesitate to accept his own actions?

“I know what you are thinking. I am not running from my crimes. I just want my stuff first. After that, I would not care who knows,” Vito explained, and Milan raised an eyebrow.

“Who was the first person you killed? When? And why?” she asked, curiosity mixing with the adrenaline from their conversation.