Chapter Nine

Celia

I wake up to find Milos studying me. “Hi.”

His smile twists my tummy into knots. “Hi, you had me worried again.”

“What time is it?” I yawn.

“Almost noon. You were in bed and asleep at only nine thirty.”

I sit up and run a hand through my hair. “I guess I was more tired than I realized.” I smile up at him. Only his eyes aren’t on me—well they are, but they are finding what I did last night—that the shirt shows my breasts clearly.

He backs away. “I brought you some clothes as well.” A hand gestures to a bag at the end of the bed. “I will leave you to dress. The doctor will be here in an hour. I will order brunch for you.”

Before I can say a word he’s gone. I have no idea why I feel smug. For the first time it was Milos who backed away, and was he…flustered? I never thought it was possible. Then again, Milos flustered was what I wish I could be on a daily basis.

Curiosity sends me to the carrier bag of an exclusive store on Michigan Avenue I’ve never been in before. I didn’t know they had fat girl clothes. There are two flat boxes, the first one is the sexiest yet sweet pair of pink lace bra and panties. I blush to my tummy at the idea of Milos picking them out or even seeing them. The next box has a pretty blush pink dress. Pulling it out, my stomach twists—I never wear dresses and wonder if I could bring myself to wear this one.

I’m shocked to find it’s my size. Relief fills me that it could fit, but how will it look on? I grab both boxes and nearly run for the bathroom. Setting them on the counter, I lock the bathroom door and jump into the shower for a quick wake-up shower.

Drying off, I’m startled by a knock on the door followed by the doorknob rattling. “Celia?” It’s Milos. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m getting dressed. I’ll be right out.” I swear I can feel him vibrating with outrage that I’d locked him out. I have no doubt he contemplated breaking in.

The dress is a luxuriously soft linen. I love the way the sleeves are only very slightly puffy, not the childish kind that holds a large puff to them. The sleeves end above my elbow and have a little flounce to them, the same as the hem that I’m grateful falls to an inch above my knees. I want to love everything but the V-neck stops me. It ends below my breasts where the dress is slightly tight then falls straight down. If I didn’t have double-D breasts, I’m pretty sure I would have loved everything about it. But with my large breasts even contained within the surprisingly supportive bra, all I can feel is the way air rushes over my chest above the V neckline.

Then I look in the mirror and my stomach drops to my feet. I’m so pretty, even with my long hair falling in a wavy mess around my shoulders and all the bruises. The dress is the kind of thing I’ve always longed to wear but never dared, sure men would whisper about how I wished I was pretty but was too fat for them, the way they had when I was in high school. A shaking hand runs down the front of the dress.

A clatter of sound reaches me from outside the room. Stop hiding, I order myself and open the door.

Milos is standing outside the door leaning against the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his wide chest. He straightens as his eyes run over me.

“Thank you for the dress and…everything.” I’m not sure why my throat is so tight.

“You are more than welcome. Especially when you look so beautiful in it.” His voice is rich and husky. “I will even forgive you for locking the door. You should not have done that. What if you fell and hurt yourself?”

“But I didn’t. Why do you always go to the worst-case scenario?” I ask as I make my way out to the balcony, where the table is once again set for us to eat. It’s the same breakfast for me as yesterday, minus the bowl of fruit. Milos has grilled salmon and a spinach soufflé.

“I find it best to prepare for the worst. If it does not happen then it makes it all that much better. Your bowl of fruit was dropped, a new one will be brought in a few minutes.” Milos is somehow ahead of me and pulls out my chair for me.

He’s so close I inhale his scent. That scent that’s haunted me since the last time I saw him. My knees are weak and I nearly fall into my chair.

“Are you all right?” Of course he doesn’t miss a thing.

“I’m fine. I didn’t realize it was a little warm out here.”

Yellow eyes narrow. “We can eat inside.”

“No, I like it out here.” I’m quick to shake my head.

A nod and he flips a switch. Two fans start immediately, a ceiling fan above us and a large fan from the edge of the balcony. “Is that better?”

“Yes, thank you.” I sigh at the cool air rushing over me.

During the day I can see more of the expansive grounds. “What’s that?” I point beyond a line of trees.

“A tennis court, opposite that is a basketball court that saw far more activity than the tennis court ever did.” Milos’s tone is dry. “We wanted to tear the tennis court out and enclose the basketball court. My mother would not hear of it. Despite never using the court herself, she felt it was uncouth to destroy a tennis court.”

I spot a black cat strolling across the lawn. “Is that Koshka?”

He shakes his head. “No, she is far too spoiled to go outside. I believe she remembers her first few weeks on the street and is afraid if she goes out she will not be let back inside. When we are done I will show you her room. I am not sure if she will be in there, as she has full access to the entire house.”

“She has a room?”

A small chuckle. “Yes, as I mentioned I have never had a pet. I might have gone overboard in what I thought she would need to be happy. It was decided she should have all the items in one place. She never uses the running wheel though.”

I’m shocked. “You don’t do anything in half-measures.”

Those yellow eyes are laughing at me. “Never.”

His phone rings. It’s a few minutes where I eat more of the yummy quiche and finish my orange juice with only a few drinks. I had no idea I was so thirsty.

Suddenly the air around him changes. My eyes are drawn to him as he ends the call.

“Is everything all right?”

Shaking his head. “No. The doctor will not be here for several hours. A few of my men were hit in an encounter. One of them is dead and another is fighting for his life. While the doctor is hopeful, he is unsure at this time and cannot leave him.”

“I’m sorry.” I hate how pitiful it sounds.

His sigh is heavy. “The damn motorcycle club is relentless. Between them and the Serbians…” A shake of his head. “I apologize. I should not speak of such things with you.”

“I’ve heard it all and then some from Carlo.” I long to touch him, soothe him in some way. “If you need to leave to go to them, I understand.”

“There is no need. My brother is already seeing to it. Before the night is over the MC will regret their actions today. This means the doctor will not be here for some time.”

I nod. “Okay, if that means you’re willing to let me watch the movie, I’m happy to. As long as you’re sure I’m not bothering you.”

“You are no bother at all. And I am willing to watch the movie.”

We finish lunch talking about our favorite places in the city. Then I’m finally allowed out of the room into a large hallway. The first door out of my room to the left is Koshka’s room. It’s filled with a cat tree, a cat running wheel, a half-dozen toys littering the room as well as perches along the walls. Koshka is nowhere to be found though.

While we were in the room our lunch was cleared away. Milos steers me to the seating area in my room. I pick a corner of the couch and he downloads the movie through an online purchase. Although the couch is large, and Milos is on the other end, it isn’t easy to pay attention to the movie when all I can think of is Milos. Finally the movie captures my interest.

Halfway through the movie Milos hands me a glass of ice water. I don’t bother to argue with him and keep sipping on it. By the time the movie is over, I’m finished with the water and nearly running for the restroom.

Once I’m out I find the doctor is waiting. He looks harried in black slacks, and a button-down blue dress shirt with blood on his sleeve. Milos—without asking or saying a word—lifts me onto the bed. Then steps back.

The doctor shines a thin flashlight into my eyes. “Any dizziness or a headache? How are you feeling?”

“Fine. No dizziness or headache at all.” Okay, isn’t he done with the flashlight yet? I try to close my eyes and pull away from him, but his grip tightens.

“As I thought. Your concussion was severe. You are far from recovered.”

“I feel fine,” I argue.

Anger flows from Milos, yet it’s the doctor who answers. “If you were fine, you would have been able to take longer than six seconds of the light. A concussion can take months to recover from. It’s good you will have this coming week off school. The need to focus and complex thought will cause headaches. If you had gone to school you would have severely set your recovery back.”

He finally turns off the flashlight and the moment he does instead of feeling better, pain flares, causing me to grasp the side of my head.

He grasps my chin and pulls it straight up. Almost immediately the pain lessens, but it still hurts. “See, the impact of your injury is reminding you where it came from. Is the pain sharp or dull?”

I close my eyes. “Both.” I moan.

“You need at least a week in bed. If you push yourself, it will take longer to heal,” he warns. “You will sleep now.” It’s an order.

I give in. “Okay,” I whisper as I try to figure out how to get the comforter and sheets out from under me. The bed had been made up after I left it.

I’m in Milos’s arms, I want to snuggle into him but too fast I’m back under the covers. A hand goes over my forehead. “Sleep.”

Sighing, I let the dark overtake me.

***

Celia

When I wake up I find Koshka purring on my chest. “Hi, pretty girl,” I whisper as I stroke her sleek fur. She meows as she nuzzles me. It takes a few minutes to sit up. Yawning, I check my phone to find I’ve been asleep for almost two hours. My head still aches. I really thought I was better.

On the side of the bed is a carafe of ice water and a matching small glass I’m certain is crystal. I’m suddenly thirsty at the sight of it. As I pour the water into the glass, the distinct clink tells me I’m right. I’m in awe of how rich Milos is. The restrained display of wealth actually screams rich in a way glaring, garish things never do.

I mean the guy owns a freaking helicopter and a private jet, for fuck’s sake. Carlo always traveled out to Vegas to see his nephew who ran Vegas on the jet the casino there owned. He had to fly commercial to see Johnny, the current Don, every time he went over the last year since Johnny got sick with lung cancer and decided to stay in New York. Although Carlo hated it, as underboss it was his responsibility.

The wealth is almost all Milos, as I found out from a soldier in the Outfit I pumped for information. While his grandfather started everything, the family was in constant feast or famine mode. It was one of the reasons the Outfit was wary of getting involved with the Levins. But since Milos began taking on more responsibility, the business in Chicago grew stronger. And ever since Milos took over as pakhan, when his father and grandfather were killed in a hit when he was twenty-five, the family has only grown richer, stronger, and more influential.

I’m jealous at how well the Levins hid in plain sight. While who and what Carlo was is a poorly hidden secret, there were no hints of Bratva to the Levin name.

A soft knock at my door.

“Come in,” I call as I sip the water.

Milos leans against the doorframe, his eyes running over me. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” I try to lie, but those eyes narrow so I admit, “My head still hurts.”

“I will retrieve the painkillers he left for you. You will need something in your stomach before you take them. What would you like?” The question is gentle.

“Um…” God, now it hurts to think in the slightest. “Some yogurt sounds good.”

A nod, then he’s gone.

Koshka follows him at a run. Rude. But I’m happy to know she loves him. Cats are incredibly picky about who they like. It isn’t enough for him to buy her a room full of stuff—if he didn’t care for her, she wouldn’t give him the time of day, let alone run after him.

I decide to use the restroom while he’s gone.

Opening the door, I find Milos with Koshka in his arms, giving her scratches absentmindedly while she purrs up a storm. Without thinking I get close as I pet her. “She’s so happy. You don’t regret taking her, do you?” I ask as I look up at him.

It’s only as the scent of him teases my senses I realize how close I’ve gotten. Months after I met him I spent far too long in a department store hunting for the cologne he wore. With the patience of the woman at the counter who swore it was the most fun thing she’d done in months, she helped find that it was Silver Mountain Water by Creed. I’d flinched when she told me the smallest bottle was more than three hundred dollars. With a smile she’d added a twenty percent off coupon. I fought not to hug her. The scent lived on my pillow and would until the bottle goes empty.

Heat waves flow over me. I long to lean into him, to feel his hard body against me.

Milos has gone still, those yellow eyes meet mine and hold. I don’t understand why I can’t breathe.

“Sir? Where would you like her yogurt and fruit?” It’s the maid who brought lunch.

“Will outside suit, or would you like to eat in front of the television?” The question is low, measured.

“Outside, please,” I answer as I step back.

Koshka jumps down and stalks out of the room, heading deeper into the house. I watch her go in surprise.

“As I said she refuses to go outside, even to the balcony.” Milos smiles.

He’s pulling out my chair for me again. “Thank you,” I mumble as I sit down. There is a bowl of plain yogurt, a dish of honey, and two different bowls of fruit, one of strawberries and one of blueberries.

“The Greek yogurt is a little tart—you will want to make liberal use of the honey,” Milos murmurs as he takes a bottle out of his pocket. It’s a plain bottle, that he sets down beside the bowl. “These are fives. Only one to try then another if you need it.”

I open the bottle, there are maybe a dozen pills in the bottle. Taking out one, I set it beside my bowl. “My mom uses these for her arthritis. I’ve used them a few times when I was really sore from a sprained ankle once, and another time when I fell and hurt my knee pretty badly. It’s one of the reasons I’m so fat. Too long on my knee leaves me in a lot of pain.”

“I do believe I told you once not to speak of yourself in such terms. I will not allow it just because you are not feeling well now. Do not use that word to describe yourself. Ever. Again.” The words are cold, hard—like his eyes.

Blushing, I open my mouth to argue, only nothing comes out. Instead I nod then give all my focus to the honey and the yogurt. I start with a thick spoonful of the honey that is a perfect match to his skin, just as I thought the first day I met him.

“So you agree with the doctor. You will remain in bed for the week.”

I can’t help it, I laugh. “Was that supposed to be a question?”

A corner of his mouth tips up. “No.”

Where the words come from, I don’t know. “What would you do if I tried to leave?”

An eyebrow goes up as his eyes run over me with dark intent. “I would be forced to restrain you. To tie you to the bed. I have the necessary equipment.”

Holy shit, why is that hot? “That’s kidnapping,” comes out of me in a jagged breath.

The air shimmers between us, all from the heat in his eyes. “Consider yourself kidnapped, kotyonok. Held prisoner against your will. Do not push me. You do not want to find out how far I will go to protect you from anyone or anything—including yourself. I have no limit. There is nothing I would not do. Be a good girl, kotyonok. Good girls get everything they want. Bad girls get punished.”

Why is my skin hot and tight? My panties uncomfortably wet at the way he says “good girl” with a caress of his accent. I drop my eyes to the bowl of yogurt. I mumble, “I’ll stay until Friday—”

“I do not negotiate. I will take you home Sunday. After a long talk with your roommate to ensure he knows the signs of your recovery backsliding.”

My entire body on fire, I shake my head. I can’t imagine spending an entire week near Milos without going down on my knees and begging him to put out the fire he’s caused within me. “I’ll go home to my mom and…”

“No, you won’t.” He raps the words out hard against my sensitive skin. “She would force you to leave college if she knew. Despite what an asshole your father is, he will not allow you to come to harm. It is not a good look for those in our world to appear as if we cannot protect what is ours. You said it yourself—it would never have happened if you were in Chicago.”

I give in and meet his eyes. So hard and cold. “You would rat me out to him?”

What happened to the heat? He’s downright glacial now. “In a heartbeat. Because in the end it would be best for you. I warned you, do not push me, Celia. Eat your yogurt so you can take your pill.”

Angry at how easily he is able to manipulate me, I want to throw the stupid bowl at him. Only I don’t dare. I’m not stupid enough to piss him off. Milos is devious on a level I could never hope to reach.

He isn’t wrong either. If I refused to follow my mother’s orders to come home she would cut me off. It wasn’t money either—she hasn’t given me a dime since I was sixteen and got my first job. While she paid for the groceries and everything for our home, even clothes were something she stopped paying for once I got my job. No, it was my sister she would cut me off from.

While my sister and I could get around it, it would cause stress on the both of us that wasn’t worth simply giving into Milos.

After a few bites I take the pill with a swallow of the ice water. I’m surprised by the door of the room opening and two maids entering with several hangers full of clothes.

“What are they doing?” I ask.

Long, elegant fingers entwine, laying across his flat stomach. “Putting away your clothes. I had the shopper get you enough for the rest of the week, a bit of a selection. Everything has been washed and dried and is ready for you to use.”

I shake my head. “You shouldn’t have done that. I can’t pay you back.”

A small shake of his head in return. “I do not want you to pay me back. You are here because I want you to be. As it is at my insistence, everything you need, I will ensure you have.”

His phone rings, he only listens for a moment before he stands. “This is something I must take and will require some time. Rest. I will see you for dinner.”

He’s gone before I can even open my mouth. Once the door closes behind him, I’m up, not as steady as I would like and go into the walk-in closet, curious to see the clothes. Holy crap, there’s enough clothes in here for a month. There’s a note that underclothes are in one drawer and my nightgowns in another.

I open one drawer, oh my god. The bras and panties are beautiful, usually the ones in my size are hideous. These are silk, lace, tulle, chiffon. Wait, is this my size? They’ve been modified with extenders so they go around me, but this says it’s a D cup, not a double D.

I’m confused. I take off my dress and the bra I’m wearing. Sonofabitch. I hadn’t noticed the modification of the extender because it was done so well, but it is a single D. And it fits better than what I was wearing before. How the hell could Milos have known my size better than I did? I shake my head. Yeah, never mind I don’t want to think about all the women he has to have fucked to know something like this.

I have lost weight since I got sized in the store a few years ago. I didn’t put on the freshman fifteen, I’ve lost almost twenty pounds. No longer the size eighteen I was when I first met Milos last year, I’m now a sixteen. I spent hours upon hours stressed and studying in my room, often forgetting to eat.

Ever since I moved in with Sergei, I ate better. He liked to cook and always had good, healthy food prepared and waiting in the fridge. His pleas were constant to eat it because he always overcooked and didn’t want the food he made going bad.

Sergei worked out often in the spare bedroom he made into a gym with a weight machine, free weights, a treadmill and a punching bag. A few times I thought I would try working out, but I always ended up too busy, and I honestly hated every minute I tried it.

I can’t believe Milos bought all this stuff. It’s amazing but it feels wrong to accept—it’s too personal. Sighing, I consider what would happen if I got dressed and walked away from all of this and Milos. This time the ache is in my chest, not my head.

I don’t want to walk away from Milos. Not today, not even Sunday. It just feels wrong to take advantage of his kindness. I don’t want to be an obligation to anyone especially not to Milos.

My phone ringing shocks me out of my thoughts. I run out of the closet to grab the phone on the side of the bed. It’s my little sister.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I work to even out my breathing.

“Ugh, my friend got wasted last night and couldn’t come to this morning’s panel with me. I’m bored waiting in line, talk to me. You haven’t called or texted in days. Are you okay? I’ve forgiven you for not coming to Comic-Con with me. Haven’t you forgiven me for being a brat yet?” Carina asks.

Even though she can’t see me, I shake my head as I head back to the closet to get dressed again. Carina had wanted me to go but with failing classes it wasn’t an option. I also wasn’t as into all of that as she was—the only show I really liked was Supernatural, since I didn’t watch much television. Although I had money saved from the stipend I got every month, I couldn’t help seeing all the money I would need to spend for the tickets, hotel, and flight as a waste. On the other hand, all Carina saw was she finally had both the money and the time to go, and she didn’t want to go alone. So she’d pouted until she left. Never mind she found someone here in Chicago to go with her and several friends from online communities to hang out with while she was there.

We usually talk at least every other day if not every day, even if we only trade a few texts, since we both prefer talking on the phone over texting. “I’m not avoiding you or mad. I’ve been busy. I’m studying still. I was in the kitchen cleaning up after making a snack and didn’t realize I left my phone in my room. How are you doing?”

I decide not to put the dress on again and pick out some silky lounge pants and a pretty silky top that appears like it should be the top of pajamas, but is too nice with sheer sleeves and pretty flowers wrapping around my arms.

We chat for a while. Even though I thought I was feeling better, sooner than I thought possible a headache is beginning to form. I’m not sure what excuse I use, but I manage to get Carina off the phone. I don’t want to go back to bed so I decide to lie down on the sofa. Within minutes, I’m asleep again.

This time when I wake up, it’s to find Milos in the chair to the side of the sofa watching me. “How are you feeling?”

Pushing up, I shake my head. “I got a headache talking to my sister.”

“It will take some time to heal. Do not push yourself—it could work against you,” he cautions. “Are you ready for dinner?”

I nod. “Sounds good.”

“What would you like?”

“Hm, I don’t know, something simple. Steak and mashed potatoes sounds good.” I shrug.

“How would you like your steak cooked?” He’s pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Medium, please. I’m going to use the restroom.” I yawn as I get off the sofa.

This time when I come out Milos is still in the chair. “Thank you for all the clothes. You really didn’t have to buy all of that. It doesn’t feel right…”

A broad shoulder lifts. “I want you to have what you need. Nothing can be returned, it will all be wasted if you do not take everything.”

“You’re downright Machiavellian.” I sigh.

“Thank you.” He smiles.

“It’s not a compliment.” I glare at him.

“I see it differently.” His smile deepens.

I roll my eyes at him. “Being mafia you would. How is your man doing?”

The smile disappears. “He did not make it.”

“I’m sorry.” I sigh, wanting to find something else to say but coming up with nothing.

Resignation is clear on his beautiful face. “This is the life. We have to accept the dangers. His family will be compensated. He has been avenged. I lost two men, they have lost four.”

“I thought the MC came to an agreement years ago with the Outfit. They have freedom to operate outside of the city limits, nothing within the city.” I remember Carlo talking about it with pride. It didn’t matter it was Tony Sabatini and Gianni Moretti, who was the Don at the time, that created the agreement with the MC.

“Since the Don and the head of the MC who came to the agreement are dead, they wanted to renegotiate. The Outfit is refusing—which I agree with.”

He shakes his head. “I do not like all this killing. I have done what I can for years to keep a low profile. It took a long time to repair our reputation from the way my father and grandfather ran things. However, these things cannot go unanswered—it emboldens them.”

I nod. “If you don’t, they’ll think you’re weak. If they think you’re weak they’ll hit harder. You should hit them again—keep the pressure on them.”

Tilting his head, he studies me. “It’s the order I gave my brother only a few hours ago. You know far too much about death and destruction, kotyonok.”

“Blame Carlo.” I shrug.