Milo Rossi Book Novels & Stories

I watch him for a moment, looking out where he is staring and see nothing. “Everything alright, Beta?” I ask him, and he seems to snap out of the haze and shoots me an angered look. “No.” he snarls. “Far from it. I have a bodyguard who failed, a she-wolf who broke a damn rule and got hurt, and now I have fucking rogues I have to worry about.” Milo roughly scrubs his face with his hand and sighs, looking up at the sky before he turns his angered gaze back to me.

Massimo's eyebrows were frowning more and more, as if that story wasn’t making him feel exactly comfortable “Are you sure this is children’s literature…?” Alice whistled softly, with a finger on her lips, nodding her head so that Massimo could see that Millie had already fallen asleep, her mouth open and her arms stretched out on each side of the bed. “That… It was more effective than I imagined.” He blinked, closing the book.

“The rogues... are testing borders near the southern hills. Two scouts, but they're dead now.” My eyes flickered gold. “They’re getting bold.” “They’ve heard whispers, Alpha,” he said quietly. “About your… awakening. Milo was right.” A low growl rumbled in my chest. I would deal with them later. For now, only she mattered. Footsteps shuffled outside the room, and Rosa guided Milo inside. The seer moved slowly, his milky blind eyes glowing faintly under the flickering candlelight. His robes whispered against the floor as he walked, his thin frame almost hidden by their folds.

My reflection smirked back at me from the dark glass, lips curling like a satisfied predator. Did I regret it? The question almost made me laugh. Regret? No. There was nothing to regret. Not when it was either me or her. Not when survival was on the line. Regret was for people with luxuries like family, people who had someone to run to and cry when the world kicked them in the teeth. Me? I’d been running alone my entire life. And Rae Rossi? Poor, sweet Rae was nothing but a sacrificial lamb offered up to Marcelo’s altar of wrath, the big bad wolf.

But then Roselia runs away from her home at the age of 12 for reasons that would haunt her forever. She gets on a train and travels to a different state which is when she is rescued by a man who finds her on the streets, rifling through garbage. Little does she know that the man, Derek Clifford, is the heir to the ‘Cliffords dynasty’, a billionaire family, known for masquerading their money source as a ‘family business’. But the biggest revelation awaits Roselia at the Clifford mansion… that the person responsible for her father’s ‘unexpected death’ might just be a very important member of the Clifford’s family.

Liam stays near the door, silent and still, his presence more useful than most men’s voices. I lean back in my chair and open the folder. The first few pages are straightforward. Full name: Elena Marie Rossi. Age twenty-four. Brooklyn address. Three jobs over the last year—waitressing, bartending, and temporary event work. No criminal record. No family worth noting. Credit drowning. Rent is barely paid.

We’d just moved on to our History notes when I heard the soft creak of the library door and instinctively looked up. Milo walked in, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair slightly tousled from practice. His white team shirt clung to him in a way that made my heart skip. He spotted us instantly, his lips curving into that easy, familiar grin. “Hey, you two,” he said, keeping his voice low as he approached. “Room for one more?” Sai smirked. “As long as you’re not here to distract our scholar-in-chief.” “I’d never,” Milo said, sliding into the chair beside me with exaggerated innocence. His knee brushed mine under the table, and a shiver ran down my spine. I wished we should just go home now.

Emilia blinked at least 70 times before realized it was her Mr Rossi was speaking too “Am I your dog? or you’re just mad ass disrespectful?” you could hear the irritation and annoyance in her voice “Darling girl, you need to go with him” as the words rolled out of Liam’s tongue, fear hit her heart, she knew Mr Rossi was a mafia don, but what she didn’t understand was why she needed to follow him. Her next plan was to run as quick as her legs could take her, but before she got to the door he grabbed her, put her over his shoulder and took her to the car—the last thing she remembered doing was slapping him.

Handsome in the way that running to your phone whenever you recieved a text from him, with tumbling Botocelli curls and a chiseled face that was all bold bones and clean curves, Milo reminded her of a Japanese painting done in ink—everything from the shade of his hair to his eyes which were so black they seemed to swallow up light marked him out as some kind of untouchable angel of darkness, an image that persisted only until he opened his mouth to speak and you realized he was one of the rare few who moved through the world without a care as they had nothing to hide. More than anything, it was this contrast of darkness and light that’d appealed to Camille. The fact that their first names we

Mili optimistically wanted to know, she curiously peeped at Rose's face from the side with her eyes inquisitive. "Why not! I'll figure it out for you," Rose assured her patting on Mili's hand that was resting on her shoulder. "Thank you," Mili chirped like a little joyful bird and quickly pecked Rose on her cheeks making her giggle. After a little more of Rose's relaxing session, when Miliani grabbed the recent book she was reading to Rose, her face turned pale. Before she could quickly turn the page, Rose asked about what happened.