Page 25 of Scarred Heir

“So, it’s just us?”

“And Antonella.”

“Right.” The reality of coming to a gangster’s mansion and agreeing to unknown terms of a contract I had no idea how long would last began to set in.

“You need to relax.”

“This situation might warrant some anxiety.”

“Not for me.” He winked. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Why?” I glanced at the staircase of no return. “Why don’t you show me the downstairs first?”

“You can explore the downstairs all you want tomorrow when I’m at work.” He took my hand. “But now I want to take you upstairs and work out some of the details of this arrangement.”

“Uh-huh.” I let him lead me to the marble steps with glossy, black railings on either side.

There wasn’t a speck of dust, a fingerprint, or a scuff mark to be found in the immaculate house that smelled of cinnamon and citrus.

“I have certain expectations,” Milo said as we climbed the stairs, taking the left-hand side. “I didn’t pay your brother’s debt out of the goodness of my heart.”

“I’m aware.” I pointed to the center staircase, trying to distract myself from the inevitable. “What’s up there?”

“My father’s suite is in the center, and Marchello’s is to the right. I have the left wing of the house.”

“I’ve never been in a house that has suites and wings.” We continued down a hallway with several doors throughout. “The car business must be lucrative.”

“You could say that.”

He opened a set of double doors that led to a room with a white, leather sectional and one of the biggest televisions I’d ever seen. It looked like it could be in the middle of Times Square. One of the walls was lined with built-in, black bookcases filled with hundreds of books.

“This is my sitting room.” He placed my backpack on the sectional adorned with a black leopard throw and matching pillows. “We have a family room and a hometheater downstairs, but each of us has our own living space when we need a break from one another.”

“It’s inviting.” I glanced at the books. “Have you read all of those?”

“Most of them.”

“I didn’t expect that.”

“The books?” When he grinned, his scary features disappeared, or maybe I wanted to believe he wasn’t as frightening as I perceived him to be. “What? You didn’t think a thug like me could read?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You thought about it.” He opened another set of double doors that led to a bedroom. “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing with me?” I peered into the room, wishing that king-sized bed wasn’t in my sight line, reminding me of what I was here to do. “Judging me because I don’t look like the women you’re used to.”

“You don’t look anything like the women I occupy my time with.” He motioned into the bedroom. “That’s why you’re here.”

“I know why I’m here.” I slowly put one foot in front of the other, willing myself to enter the bedroom.It’s just a room.

Milo took my hand and tugged me into the bedroom, leaning me against the side of an armoire. His intimidating body, covered in tattoos and muscles, caged me in, not only trapping me physically but filling me with immense fear.

Why am I so afraid of him?

“The sooner you stop blaming me for the reason you’re here, the better things will go between us.” He flattened his palms against the dresser on either side of my shoulders. “You came to me. I didn’t take you against your will.”

“I’m free to go?”