EIGHT - TRUST ME

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"I thought you lived in Manhattan?"

"I do, most of the time."

Mila was staring through the dense darkness as Tony drove along a long dirt road with a black abyss either side of the car, eventually leading to a dark wooden home with a huge porch and a lake down a small bank.

There was a garage to the left, one much larger than her own, and as she craned her neck to look further, Mila could see that the home seemed to sprawl across acres of land, illuminated by a trail of yellow lanterns that gave the place a cosy feel.

There was a small dock that pulled out over a peaceful lake and large trees were just starting to grow back their leaves, springs of green could've been seen had it not been for the late night darkness.

They had been travelling for what felt like days before finally reaching their safe haven, at least that's what Tony had assured them it was. Mila had been resistant to leave her home and despite still not believing in her heart that Joss Miller would ever lie to her or bestow ill faith on her or her son, she would've done anything to keep her little family safe, and that meant trusting Tony.

They'd gathered as much of their belongings as they could in a matter of minutes and piled it into the back of Mila's car, Tony insisting he drive. She argued back at first, though quickly realised she was far too on edge to take control of a car and silently took up residence in the passenger seat, buckling in for hours of darkness.

They rode in a heavy silence, Mila drifting off to sleep somewhere between the second hour and the seventh, clearly exhausted from everything that had happened that night. Luckily, Tristan was more than comfortable in the back of the car and slept more or less the entire journey without making a single complaint, not so much as batting an eyelid at why he wasn't being tucked up into bed at his usual time.

There was a tornado of doubt blitzing it's way through Mila's mind as they drove through the night, incessantly wondering whether she'd made the right choice, if Tony was really to be trusted, or if the whole thing was perhaps just a terrible, terrible nightmare.

As they approached the house, however, there was something bittersweet about the moment. Mila wanted to hate what she saw, she wanted to feel disjointed and uncomfortable, aware that she couldn't settle and that this place would never be her home, but Tony's upstate residence just so happened to be the most beautiful house Mila had ever seen.

Tony unlocked the door to an open plan ground floor with a homely sitting area complete with a sofa covered in throw pillows and blankets, a kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a large dining table with enough chairs to seat almost everyone Mila knew.

There was exposed beams all across the home and pictures framed on the walls, artwork resting in corners that had yet to be hung up and shelves filled with classic literature hidden behind a thin coating of undisturbed dust.

"It's kept off the record that I even own this place, it's safer than safe. Let me show you upstairs."

Tristan was still out cold, his head resting on Mila's shoulder as she followed Tony up the staircase. In some ways, the place reminded her of her own home. It was drowning in character and love, the only thing missing was the feeling that it was truly lived in.

Tony pushed open a door at the end of a short hallway to a room with a large double bed with an antique chest sitting at the foot of it, a desk in the corner and a mismatched yet perfectly complementary antique wardrobe beside a huge gold-plated mirror.

Mila gazed around the room with a content smile, not expecting someone like Tony Stark to own a home filled with so many antiquities, and beautiful ones at that.

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