The Secret Heiress [Mafia Games 2]

◇ 18+ ONLY! ◇

Scenes, characters, dialogues and events in this story are all invented. This story contains mature themes, profanity, some violence, and graphic sexual content not intended for young readers.

• • • • PREVIEWS • • • •

◆ MILES ◆

Shoot the bastard? Watch the guy murder his own brother? Or shoot the bastard after watching him murder his own brother?

I weighed the pros and cons. Pacing behind me, my mother could barely contain her panic. She couldn't stop getting hysterical and was shouting at the outrageous display of violence right in the middle of my cousin's pristine dining room.

Where the heck's Ricchar?

The last person we expected to arrive here in the estate went on throwing punches at his victim. This drug-dealing psycho just didn't give a crap.

A stream of profanities. Loud grunts of palpable fury. Cries of terror and pain. The stoic, tense-jawed armed guards surrounding the scene...

Were they enjoying it? The fuck's wrong with these people? Everything looked so out of place. I gripped the gun but stayed put.

My best guess: Lorenzio was having a late-night chat with Mamma here in the dining room, clueless that his brother would find him here and try to beat him up to show him what "dominance" and "untimely death" meant.

I shushed my mother as we kept a safe distance from the Tomassini brothers. Let it all play out? Or interfere and possibly get myself killed?

× × × × ×

◇ KEL ◇

Tall. Dark. Raven-black hair. Muscular all over. A looming presence.

My intakes of breaths wouldn't reach my lungs. I backed off. My hands and legs turned numb. Why?

Why wouldn't he stop staring at me? Deliberately intimidating.

Now he's towering over me with a full glass of wine and a crooked grin stretching his pale lips and dark beard. Leandro sipped his drink. "Thanks for helping my brother."

"You're welcome. I was just trying to help."

"You know he's got a thing for your type?" He chuckled. "Humor me. Why are you with him?"

My type? "We're just friends, Signore." I faked a smile at his natural talent for giving shade. I'd rather walk out of here now, but it would be rude.

"Really good friends." Leandro grinned when I fell silent. He stepped dangerously close to me that I could smell the alcohol on his tongue.

Should I shove him? Run? Shit. Where's the guards?

"Why Belgrade?" His heavy hands grabbed my arms.

I should scream and run. But no sounds would come out of my mouth. My feet and legs wouldn't move. Shit. What's happening?

Alone, cornered, wincing at his painful grip, I tried to push him off.

Nothing. He didn't even budge. He looked ready and excited to drown me with his bare hands.

Tears fell on my cheeks. I pulled away. My head slammed onto the edge of the pool. "Help! Enzo-"

No guards. No maids. No Enzo.

Shit. His brother might murder me out here. No one would even notice anything.

"Who told you to go to Serbia?" Leandro gripped my throat, his other hand clasping my wrists. He pinned me against the wall. His hot breaths fanned my skin. "Why Belgrade?"

"I-I met up with someone there. Please let go." I bit back tears.

Should I tell him why Enzo and I were in Serbia? Wouldn't that endanger Niccolo, too?

This paranoid sadist would torture us if he found out that I met up with Niccolo, the guy who spied on him to expose his illegal businesses. "Who?" Leandro gripped my wrists.

"No one you know." I avoided his face but I just couldn't move away from him. "Just a friend."

"I'm the last person you should be lying to, Mykaela."

"I'm not-" I held back sobs. Now my lungs felt like they're burning up. I tried kicking him.

Useless. He's still taller, more muscular than his brother, and just livid. "They paid you a lot?" Leandro smirked. "You like snitching, huh?"

"No!"

"Are you one of Stefano's whores? Or you work for the Russians?"

"No! Stop-" I gripped his wrist when he squeezed my throat. "No! Please- Don't." I couldn't die out here. Not tonight.

"Answer my question," he murmured to my lips. "You will tell my brother you're using him to spy on us. Understand?"

"I'm not! Get away-" I slapped his hand away and stopped struggling. Freeing my arms from his deathlike clasp suddenly felt easy, but my vision's starting to blur.

Calm down.

Breathe...

Panicking wouldn't help.

Breathe...

Just think of a plan.

I just needed to distract him. I could still escape. Maybe if I gave him the answers he wanted to hear...

My insides shivered when he stared me down. My chest felt uncomfortably tight now. I feigned calmness. I grabbed his hand on my throat and stared into his dark eyes.

He stopped choking me and laughed. "Feisty." His lopsided grin raised the tip of his dark beard. "I see now why my brother likes you."

"Let go!"

The psycho grabbed my arms again. "You almost got him killed. Do you wanna kill me, too?"

× END of PREVIEW ×

[ 2 years earlier ]

◇ Milan, Italy ◇

◇ KEL ◇

It was his dark, wavy hair. Or was it the devil-may-care air about him? His height was also a plus. He was of lean build, considering he was several inches taller than me, but he looked quite muscular, too.

His attractive features also held my attention. I thought he was a full-blooded Italian. Apparently he was of American descent as well. Actually I found everything about him rather interesting. Subtly mysterious. Probably had a bad boy streak, too, but I didn't mind.

Miles gulped some more of his beer as the loud party music drowned out the conversations simultaneously happening around us. I reclined in the sofa with my legs crossed, watching him chitchatting with his friends while the dull lights made his shoulder-length hair look somewhat shiny and soft to the touch.

It was only the second time I saw him here in Italy. But I already felt drawn to him for some reason. Or it could be because we just did a freakin' blood pact in front of his friends barely half an hour ago. He even drank some of my blood.

Partly regretful and embarrassed, I smothered a laugh at the thought. I stared at the antiseptic-laden bandages on the small cut I made on my left ring finger. It still stang.

He said he just had to do the dare with me to avoid crossing paths with his ex-boyfriend again. Allergic much?

As a former medical professional trained in laboratory infection control, I shouldn't have encouraged it and should've just said no to the stupid dare. But they were all drunkenly and brazenly cheering us on, and most of my common sense had already been suppressed by the alcohol in my system.

It was really stupid and what we did was outrageously biohazardous, but he didn't flinch much when he tasted my blood. He must be that intoxicated already. Why was his friends letting him drink more beer?

His best friend said his real name was "Maximiliano" and that his parents were from Umbria. But Paul didn't mention a lot about Miles' background, leaving much to my imagination. I supposed Miles didn't like that his birth name was a mouthful...hence him choosing "Miles Falco" as his artist name.

Despite my opinion of him being an introvert, I could also tell he liked partying with his friends and some recreational activities-besides smoking cigarettes and the usual party booze. Bad boy cliché personified.

He wasn't a total wild child as far as I could tell. But he's definitely the type of guy my strict parents had been warning me to stay away from ever since they transferred me out of the all-girls Catholic school I grew up in with my sister. My gut feel told me he was inherently a nice guy, though.

Our first lengthy conversation an hour ago also assured me of my overall impression of him. As soft rock music soothed my fairly inebriated senses, I shut my eyes and rested the back of my neck on the sofa's headrest. I could tell I was already drunk, judging from my lightheadedness and the unpleasant sensation in between my thighs.

Almost like I was on my period. To be honest, alcohol and I were never friends...mainly because I stayed away from it and other indulgent habits.

Granted, I shouldn't be staying up this late drinking with strangers and doing nothing, but the past few days felt as if my brain was just completely worn out from all the studying and adulting.

Right now, both my mind and body just felt drained and useless, overworked, full of pent-up anxiety, and unable to keep up with adulthood's demands. But at least my mom wasn't around to chastise me eight ways to Sunday. I kind of missed her, though, and my sister.

"Sorry the party's boring you to death," someone mumbled to my face a few minutes later.

It was Miles. I could tell by his American accent and his minty, soap-smelling cologne. His joke sounded like he was rather serious, though. I opened my eyes to regard him.

He sat beside me, no longer clutching a beer bottle. His breath was warm and reeked of alcohol, and his eyelids looked quite droopy now.

"It's a nice party," I commented while staring into his attentive hazel eyes. "I was just zoning out for a bit."

"You look ready to bolt. Not blaming you, though." Miles clicked his tongue and reclined next to me. He was chewing gum while his lazy gaze roamed around the small groups of people drinking and chatting around us.

"Nah. Just tired. Sleepy," I muttered in reply.

My phone clock said I should leave the party and call it a night. But I kind of liked the feeling of being around strangers who knew nothing about me. Being invisible gave me a sense of comfort most of the time.

Most of them didn't even know my first name but I was fine with that. It was Paul's birthday, and he invited me to join the celebration. For letting me crash on his couch for about two weeks now with his girlfriend's full approval, I shouldn't be rude and should just try to enjoy the party.

"Just to be clear, though." Miles cleared his throat and chuckled afterwards, as if amused by something that crossed his mind. "I'm clean. Far as I know. I mean...I always use condoms and don't do oral. And I don't shoot up, so, no needles."

At his barefaced admission, I couldn't hold back my surprised laugh as I watched him itch the bandages I had placed on his palm to cover up his cut.

Earlier during the game, he actually cut himself using Paul's Swiss knife just for that stupid dare. And now he was casually sharing private matters about his sex life.

It was pretty funny. "I don't doubt it," I replied after I chuckled at his candor. "I'm clean, too. I don't sleep around and I don't do drugs. Just FYI." Except some anti-depression meds, I should say. But I doubted he would find that a relaxing conversation segue, so I opted not to elaborate. I just wanted to reassure him that I didn't have any bloodborne pathogens that could cause serious harm to his health, after he willingly ingested some of my blood in front of his friends.

"Yeah. I don't think you're into Italian guys," Miles mumbled with a slanted grin that partly showed his nice teeth. "They're pretty filthy. I mean, most of them."

I laughed at his comment again. "Does that...include your ex?" The one he'd been hiding from all night? He didn't say much when I asked about the guy earlier. I just heard the guy's name was Niccolo.

"Probably. I don't really give a shit if he sleeps around," Miles said with a mild frown. "Wasn't anything serious."

"Oh." I glanced around us and noticed that the other guests had returned to the party downstairs.

"And you?"

"Huh?" I looked at Miles and realized he had been staring at my face.

"You dating someone?"

"No."

"Why not?" he asked casually.

"I dunno..." I shrugged. "I just don't date," I admitted, faintly giggling at his apparent curiosity.

"Huh. Okay. Are you...asexual?"

"Yeah." I nodded almost too enthusiastically. It somewhat surprised me that he could tell so easily.

"Cool. First one I've met so far." He coughed away from my face before he stared at the pitch-black sky above us. "How old are you again?"

"24. You?"

"26 soon." Miles smiled for a moment and fixed his hair into a ponytail. "I like your hair." He scooped a chunk of my long hair and lightly combed his fingers through it. "Naturally straight and soft."

"It's boring. I like yours better." I smiled back at him. Actually I was crushing on his long and wavy hair that almost looked black. It completed his vaguely mysterious look. "It's got character."

"It's my mom's hair," Miles muttered before glancing away. He reclined again and put his arms on the headrest. "Why Italy?" he then asked after a few seconds of silence.

"I dunno. Just...impulse. I've always wanted to visit Europe."

"Paul told me you're looking for modeling jobs."

"Yeah. Wanna try doing it full-time here." I sighed to myself, knowing the transition wasn't going to be that easy. "I mean, I badly need the cash, too."

"Why?" Miles glanced at me and frowned slightly.

"I was modeling part-time to help pay for my tuition and student loans...all that."

"In New York?"

"Yeah. But I had to drop out. So now, I'm trying to work here full-time."

"Why drop out?" Miles furrowed his brows at me.

"Just, y'know, the money, and some family issues," I replied, not bothering to elaborate. He didn't need to know I was having a hard time looking for modeling jobs here in Milan.

Since I just moved here weeks ago, I couldn't get odd jobs because I didn't speak the language at all. I'd been crashing at Paul and India's apartment for the past two weeks now. Luckily for me, they didn't seem to mind.

"Paul said you been lookin' for a place to stay?" Miles asked after yawning.

"Yeah. Told him and India I'll move out once I get enough cash. I'm looking to book more runway gigs."

"You can crash at mine. But it's almost two hours away."

I stared at him. Was he being serious? "Where do you live by the way?"

"Brescia."

"Ah..." I nodded. "Alone?"

"Yeah." Miles glanced at me again and gave me a lopsided smile. "I need a new muse for my next collection."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"I'm starting a couple of paintings. Gonna sell the pieces next year. If I finish all of 'em on schedule."

"And you want me to...pose for your paintings?" Me? His new muse?

"Yeah. You said you need a modeling gig." Miles snickered. "No full-on nudity, if you're uncomfortable with that."

"Cool," I said, unable to think of anything else to say. So he thought I was good enough to be his muse?

"You can move in as soon as tomorrow. I got two spare rooms in my house. You can use the one downstairs."

Wow. His house? He already owned a house? At 25? Whoa. How rich was he?

"Sound good?"

"Uh...yeah." I blinked at his steady gaze. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," he replied after getting rid of his lopsided grin. His tone sounded certain and not joking at all. "You'll be my temp muse, so you won't have to worry about rent. Then you can go to castings and work full-time on Fashion Week. That's if...you wanna live in Brescia."

"No, I...I'd love to." I couldn't hold back a smile while he stared at me, waiting for my answer.

"Really?" he murmured with a somewhat doubtful look. He was also frowning a bit. "Can I ask you something personal?"

"Yeah." I sat still when he leaned in to regard me with his watchful long-lashed eyes. They looked even more beautiful up-close.

"Were you dating that Russian actor?"

The question wasn't what I expected, but I wasn't that surprised that he knew who Drew was. "Not really," I replied with a chuckle. "Paul told you I did?"

"No. Just saw a photo of you and the guy online. Made me curious."

"We weren't really dating." I pulled a face. "It's...quite complicated."

"Hey. Not judging here." Miles gave me a half-grin before he took out a wrinkled cigarette stick. "You smoke?"

"No. Just socially."

"Good. Don't smoke." Miles lit the cigarette and took a long drag while his head was turned away from me.

I almost smiled. He was full of contradictions, but I was starting to like that about him.

Why was he hanging out with me? Did he find me remotely interesting to talk to, or he just thought I needed company because I looked like such a loner?

"Any questions?" I muttered after he put out his cigarette with his leather boots. "What if I'm a serial killer or something?"

"Nah." Miles cleared his throat after staring at me with slightly creased brows. "You don't have that aura."

"How d'you mean?"

"I know a grade-A bullshitter when I meet one."

I giggled when Miles snickered at his own words.

"You ever posed nude?" He squinted at me. "Some photographers, stylists and agents can be total pervs."

"Yeah. Some definitely are," I muttered. "Just semi-nude. No nips."

"Hey. No judgment here."

I chuckled. "Thanks for hearting my photos, by the way."

Miles glanced away and grinned timidly. "I wasn't stalking you online or anything," he mumbled with a throaty chuckle that made me smile. "Okay. Maybe just a little."

"No judgment here, either." I raised my palms and snickered at his smirk. "I tried modeling 'cause I just felt like I needed a break, y'know? From med school, the pressure, anxiety...and the loans were piling up and dad's getting sicker." I shrugged.

"Sicker? Is he doin' okay now?"

"A little better. But not for long, I imagine." I sighed. Every time I thought of my Daddy Jim, my heart still ached. For him and Mom. When the stress and anxiety reached the peak some weeks ago, I just packed up and left America before they could even talk me out of it.

"Sorry about your dad." Miles pouted.

"The stress and anxiety just got so overwhelming, and, I just decided I gotta leave New York. Get a breather for a bit."

"And you thought you could try working here to save up and enjoy the anonymity."

"Exactly." I chuckled.

"Your parents know you're here in Milan, though. Right?"

"Yeah. Definitely. Mom's a worrier, to be honest."

"Ah." Miles looked away and stared up at the starless sky again. "Wanna try living in the countryside? Lots of privacy there." He yawned. "Just sayin'..."

"At your place?"

"Yeah." He grinned slightly after glancing at my fairly skeptical reaction.

"But...how am I gonna pay rent?" I squinted at his handsome profile, gauging his seriousness. I knew he was rather inebriated, but the certainty in his tone told me he wasn't merely joking about the whole thing. "I don't have a steady job yet."

"Did I say you gotta pay rent? I told you I need a muse." He stared at me and snickered. "Yes or no?"

◇

◇ ◇ Author's Notes ◇ ◇

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

COPYRIGHT © 2020 by MXian

Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this story or plagiarism of any kind is prohibited by the law.

Scenes, characters, dialogues, places, and events in this story are all invented or are used fictitiously. This story contains mature themes, profanity, some violence, and graphic sexual content not intended for young readers.

The first part takes place right after the last chapter of the first book "The Heir's Secrets [Mafia Games XI]". Italian-English dialogue translations are written in brackets [ ].

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Chapter 1: Half-Meant Promises

◇ KEL ◇

◇ Brichese, Italy ◇

I only meant to give him a quick goodbye kiss. For old times' sake. I didn't want to say goodbye to him yet. But I had to leave Italy now and go back to my life in New York.

But when he kissed me back, I couldn't really deny my feelings anymore. Miles kept kissing me till I had to convince him to go back inside his car. I could feel Alessio and the other bodyguards watching us, and, frankly, their presence still bothered me.

They were just doing their jobs, though. Keeping an eye on us-it's what they're being paid to do. Nothing creepy about it. Their sworn duty was to stay close in case any unexpected company approached Miles or his car. Now that Miles and I were alone in the backseat, I put my arms around him and tried to enjoy our fleeting privacy before I had to leave him again.

It wasn't the first time we kissed, but his unusually sweet behavior tonight definitely caught me off-guard. Albeit we weren't talking much during the drive to the airport with him behind the wheel, I didn't imagine it would lead to this. The tension was palpable, but I didn't quite expect that it would be this sexual. Or that he wanted to be intimate with me again.

Did I want his affection? Sure. I loved being this close to him. It was perplexing and reassuring-frustratingly in equal measure. I'd always thought I wasn't the romantic or sensual type, and back when we were living together in his house, I never imagined I'd fall head over heels for a guy like him.

But...it happened.

Maybe he felt the same. Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I was just too aroused by our physical intimacy now that I just didn't care for anything else. I kissed the side of his face while my fingers clasped his soft hair, with his arms stiffening around my waist and hips.

"You smell so good," he murmured, hugging me to his warm body with my thighs pressed onto his lap. I was practically straddling him in the backseat, but we were still fully clothed. He did unbutton my top, though, just so he could gain full access to my neck.

There was a tingling sensation right underneath the spot where his mouth was, his teeth slightly grazing my skin. He liked being rough sometimes but I didn't mind. If this was him being careful, I'd tell him to kiss me anywhere and anytime he wanted. Only because I would be away from him for a while. Again.

We led very different lives now. I wouldn't blame him if he thought this might be the last time we'd get to be this intimate. That it might be a long while before we get to see each other again.

A few months? A year? Two? I just didn't know for sure.

"Babe..." I almost flinched when he gripped my hair away from my shoulders to gently bite my neck and the skin on my jaw.

Miles didn't say anything and only replied with a throaty moan. It sounded like a grunt of annoyance, as if he couldn't be bothered to pause what he was doing to me. He hugged me closer to his chest with his firm arm pressed onto my hips, trapping me on his lap.

The back of my thighs rubbed against the fabric of his jeans while my knees were pressing hard against the backseat cushion, causing some unpleasant sensation. But I didn't complain.

Perhaps he thought sleeping with me would somehow relieve him of his mental and physical anguish. But should I feel bad about it? That he didn't want anything beyond sex?

No. I shouldn't feel sorry for myself. In fact I should feel better that he was reaching out to me this time and no longer pushing me away. He was seeking my help and attention, allowing himself to be vulnerable around me. Unlike before. It meant he was learning to trust me more now.

"Sorry," Miles muttered after a noiseless minute. "What were you saying?" He licked my sensitive skin as he waited for me to answer.

"Nothing," I murmured as I kept my eyes closed. I was concentrating on the softness and comforting warmth of his tongue on my neck.

He was kissing me again, soothing the slightly painful bites he made on my skin. I couldn't explain the pleasure I felt from his sweet, gentle kisses after letting him have his way. I'd never felt anything like it before.

When he pulled away to look me in the eye, I thought he was going to kiss me on the lips. But he didn't. Instead he just gave me a quick smooch on my cheek and hugged me tight for a moment. Then he carefully pushed me off of his lap.

Somewhat disappointed, I sat beside him in the backseat, alone with him in the dimness. Maybe he changed his mind? I wished otherwise. Or perhaps he thought...I just needed a little foreplay before he used me to get what he wanted.

Wait. Why was I making a big deal out of it? It could just be a fleeting pang of jealousy. Yeah. Just plain old envy. I knew for a fact he'd been sleeping with other people. Apparently he just didn't want to do the same with me.

It hurt to think so, but maybe I ought to push my ego out of the equation. He just didn't see me that way, and part of me knew I should just be okay with it-obviously he didn't want a romantic relationship with me.

The jealousy still felt like a solid punch in the gut, though. Try as I might, I couldn't help but imagine Miles being intimate with other people. Why not with me? Did it disgust him or something?

When he let out a sigh beside me, I glanced at him and watched him massage his forehead.

Did I ruin it for him now? I swore inwardly. "Sorry."

"No." Miles turned to stare at me despite the dimness. Thankfully, the lampposts around the airport parking lot kept the area from being pitch-dark. "Don't apologize." He frowned.

Okay. So he didn't want me to say sorry. But what bothered him now? "What's up?" I buttoned up my blouse and watched his reticence. It was like we're back to him being uncommunicative. It's downright annoying sometimes.

"I just don't wanna have sex with you in a car." He shook his head weakly, as if annoyed by the mere thought. He chuckled and looked away. "Sorry. You deserve better."

I pulled a face at his explanation. I didn't really ask for him to explain or apologize, but I appreciated his straightforwardness all the same. "You feel better now?" I muttered while I tucked a clump of his hair behind his ear. "No more pain in your stomach area?"

"No." Miles kept staring out the window, his voice muted and full of regret. Or maybe self-loathing. He could be having negative thoughts about himself again because of what he just did to me.

He liked to play it rough, but I honestly didn't mind. "Hey." I sat still beside him for a moment, waiting for him to say more.

A long, pensive silence later, he still wouldn't look at me. Why? What did he really want to say? That we shouldn't be intimate because I "deserve better"? Did he think I would push or expect him to do more?

"Just tell me if something hurts again," I said in a hushed voice, deliberately changing the subject.

"I'll miss you."

I frowned. Why was he telling me this again? I leaned closer to him and touched his cheek.

After a moment of me just coaxing him, he eventually turned to face me. He stared into my eyes.

I felt a sudden pinch in my chest. I could feel his sadness just by looking at him, and the instant guilt trip made me feel like crap again. I didn't want to leave him this soon, but we both knew I had to. "You can come see me in New York anytime. Just text me or...give me a quick call."

"Just focus on school." Miles leaned in to kiss me on the lips.

It was just a quick, gentle kiss, but I loved the gesture as I could feel more sincerity from him this time. It made me want to kiss him back, but my guilt was eating up my courage again. "I'll come see you soon. After exams. Okay?" I stroked the back of his hand that was palming my thigh.

"You don't have to." Miles glanced away and faked a quiet laugh. "I'll be busy, anyway." He sighed out loud. "Just stay in New York. Keep your grades up."

Okay. Fine. He was telling me to live a quiet life in New York and finish my studies. He wanted me to focus on my goals. Build up my career in the medical field. His work would also keep him too busy to have time for me and our relationship-if it could even be called a relationship.

It was a tad disappointing, but I had to understand that he only wanted the best for me, and he was only making sure I kept my priorities straight. "I'll call you," he murmured while his hand gripped mine on my thigh.

Our fingers stayed interlaced for a lengthy, comfortable moment of silence. I nodded faintly at his promise, knowing well he was only trying to alleviate the emotional struggle I was dealing with. "Just...don't do anything brash without talking to Ricchar or...your parents."

"Yeah. Okay," Miles sighed. He sounded unsure.

"What's your next plan?" I watched him stare at the back of the driver's seat, noticing the way his brows and forehead furrowed. What was he thinking of? Was he still upset by what happened to me in San Pietro? Maybe he was still blaming Enzo for everything, as much as I was to blame.

"I'll just..." Miles rubbed his nape and stared at our entwined hands on my lap. "I'll talk to Charr about...what to do next."

"About what?" I mumbled, curious and eager to hear more.

"I dunno yet. But I'll try to clean up Pappa's mess. Maybe convince him to stop working with the mobs." He scoffed and slightly shook his head. "Highly doubt he'll listen to me, but, gotta try at least."

"Okay." I knelt on the leather-covered seat to give him a hug. I kissed his cheek and felt some relief when he hugged me back. "Just be careful. Please."

"Yeah. You too," Miles murmured to me. Then he gave me a quick kiss on the corner of my lips. "See you soon."

"Cut back on the pills, and drugs. It's damaging your liver and kidneys more."

"I'll try." He pulled away and pinched my chin, our noses touching. After we exchanged awkward smiles, he looked out the window and sighed out loud. "Go. The plane just arrived."

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