MILO

13. Thicker Than Water

"Kiara, wake up," Milo's smoky voice fills my ears, his hand rattling my shoulder. "Kiara."

My eyelids flutter open, my neck slightly sore. "What?" I croak, my vision adjusting to the late autumn sun beaming through the window. "We're here already?"

"I truly marvel at your ability to fall asleep so easily," Milo notes, getting out of the SUV.

"Well, I wouldn't be so tired if you didn't force me to wake up at 7 am and then make me wait four hours before we even left the tarmac," I grumble, looping my purse over my shoulder.

"You seem agitated, Kiara," he muses, his top lip curling up into a smirk as he offers me his hand. "Perhaps next time I will wake you with a kiss."

I narrow my eyes at him as I slip out of the car, ignoring his assistance. "I'm fairly certain that if Aurora was a modern-day princess, she'd sue the shit out of Prince Phillip for sexual harassment," I say, the picturesque beauty of Monaco zapping me awake.

Milo chuckles. "It is a risk I'm willing to take."

"A gambler," I muse, the fresh ocean air filling my lungs as I take in the lush palm trees, meticulously trimmed hedges, narrow coastal skylines, and the sharp colossal mountains that surround us.

"Naturally," Milo says, gesturing down the sandy stone path that leads to an idyllic villa several stories high. "This way."

"Where's Marchello and the others?" I ask, craning my neck over my shoulder. Gio and Mateo trail behind us, luggage in hand, as we walk up the steps towards the estate, the Belle Époque influenced architecture simply breathtaking.

"They are staying at a hotel," Milo explains, pausing in front of the peach-colored double doors with golden accents on the trim. "My sister cannot accommodate everyone."

"Really?" I hum as he rings the doorbell situated inside a wooden carving of a lion's mouth. I tilt my head back to survey the grand villa. "Looks big enough."

Milo expels a low chuckle. "Let me rephrase," he says. "She does not wish to accommodate everyone."

"Is she not a fan of your...friends?"

"Not entirely," Milo confesses, knocking on the door.

So impatient.

"I like her already," I murmur as the front door swings open, an adorable blonde child wearing a pink tutu and a sparkling crown on her head grinning up at us.

Are those real diamonds?!

"Zio!" she squeals, waving her arms in the air, her big blue eyes wide with excitement. "Zio!"

Uncle?

Milo swoops his apparent niece into his arms, the uninhibited smile plastered across his face throwing me off.

"Principessa Natalia," he coos, adjusting her falling tiara. "Why are you opening doors? Didn't mama tell you it's not safe?" He pinches her rosy cheek. "I could have been a monster."

Natalia giggles, squirming in Milo's embrace, her chubby face scrunching up. "Monster's not real," she babbles. "And my mama say I can open the door."

"She did?" Milo gasps, his tone light, playful, happy.

Who is this man?

Milo's niece nods her head feverishly before snapping her round eyes over his shoulder, looking at me with a curious gaze.