MILO

10. In the Details

For the first thirty minutes of the drive from the airport to Hotel Di Vaio Madrid, I'm so entranced by the beauty of this foreign city that I forget I'm in a Rolls Royce, sitting next to a man with questionable ethics and a murky moral compass.

Madrid is mesmerizing, with the combination of renaissance architecture and flares of tasteful modernization, it's not surprising this city was a muse to so many great poets and artists.

"Over there is Casa Botín," Milo hums, drawing my attention, gesturing towards a building in the distance with a wooden caramel exterior. "It is the oldest restaurant in the world. Ernest Hemingway-"

"Wrote about it in his novel The Sun Also Rises," I interject his factoid with a smug smile. "Yes, I'm aware."

"Are you also aware that it is quite rude to interrupt someone when they are speaking?" he asks, scowling at me as he pulls out his cellphone from his pants pocket and types out a message. "Did your parents not teach you any manners?"

My cocky smile contorts into a pained frown, my jaw tightening. "They taught me as much as they could in the short time that they had," I snap.

He peers up from his phone, an apologetic glimmer in his eyes as if realizing the tactlessness of his question.

"Forgive me," he says. "I forgot that they passed away when you were young."

"It's fine," I mutter, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "I don't expect you to remember every minute detail of our conversations."

"That is hardly a minute detail, Kiara," Milo counters, taking a deep breath as he gazes out of his window. "I should have remembered." He pauses, adding, "It is not easy to lose a loved one."

His mournful tone pricks at my heart. He's speaking from experience. Recent experience.

"No," I agree, a pang of empathy stirring in my stomach. "It's not."

He clears his throat, his discomfort on the subject palpable as he faces me.

"You mentioned earlier that you would like to go shopping, correct?" he asks, changing the topic. "You will have several hours before we are expected at Aria. Gio and Mateo will escort you wherever you'd like to go."

"Aria?" I ask, grateful that I'll finally have some time to myself. Well, that is if my guards don't breathe down my neck the entire outing. I might have to set some parameters with them. "What's Aria?"

"A club I own," he elaborates. "We'll be meeting several of my business partners there later tonight." His eyes give me a quick once-over. "You will need to dress appropriately. I can recommend a few boutiques if you would like."

"Thanks but I think I can handle shopping on my own." I cross my arms, still not entirely sure of what my role is. "What do you expect me to do tonight? Other than eavesdrop on your Spanish friends. I need context, Mr. Di Vaio, if I'm to report anything of actual value."

With a resigned sigh, Milo offers, "You are an intelligent and an intuitive woman, Kiara. You will know if something is of value or not."

I roll my eyes at his compliment even though it fills me with an odd sense of accomplishment.

"I need details," I state. "Why are we meeting with these people? Who are they? What kind of business do they do for you? Does it have anything to do with the Russians? Do they-"

Milo raises his hand and I stop talking, hoping he'll answer my questions.

"Oh," he smirks. "Perhaps you are obedient."