3 ◇ Warm Blood

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"You don't have to drive me there." His roomie glanced at him. "I'll get a cab."

"Good luck with that." Miles scoffed. The wall clock read 10:25AM. He'd barely finished his shower when he'd heard Kel calling out to him, just to inform him she would be doing another photo shoot. "Merda." Miles looked around for his sneakers.

His alarm had been set to wake him up before nine so he could work on the paintings. If Kel hadn't made noises in the kitchen while making breakfast, he'd probably still be snoring his ass off at the moment. "Forgot to set your alarm?" she asked.

"Slept like a log. They say how long it'll take? The shoot, I mean."

"Five hours tops." Kel sat on his couch and kept texting on her phone. Her agent should be up by now. Modeling agents were always expected to wake up with the chickens.

"Five hours?" Miles pulled a face. Should he just stay in Milan and wait for her photo shoot to be over? Milan traffic at this time of the week wasn't pesky, but she wasn't quite fond of commuting around the city. Subways often triggered her claustrophobia. Then the anxiety would linger for days.

Her paychecks from the last runway shows had just come in, which he only found out after she bought groceries yesterday, and he didn't like the thought of her wasting half of her hard-earned money on cab fare alone.

He was rather glad to play chauffeur again today. He needed a quick break, anyway. He'd already labored hours on a painting last night.

Driving her around the city was mostly fun for him, too. Not because he was constantly bored here in Brescia, or because of his debt of gratitude to her for helping him get rid of an ex who was borderline psychotic...he just liked Mykaela and her calming company.

"Charged your phone?" Miles now searched the room for his car keys.

"Yeah." Barefoot, Kel just watched him scramble around the tidy living room. Her leather jacket hid her small frame and matched her short dark hair. "Seriously, you don't have to drive me there."

"Quit arguing, Mykaela. I'm driving," he muttered.

Was she still avoiding him? The possibility made him contemplate a few things. Miles kept a certain distance from where she sat. That weird night in the basement must have weirded her out, too, that moment when they kind of argued about who should tend to her injured hand, then she'd accidentally slopped some of her blood into his mouth.

Strangely, the other details got hazy. What he vividly recalled was how he'd barfed his dinner after almost reveling in the salty-sweet taste of her warm blood on his tongue. Like a bad reflex response. Really bad and weird.

That was a few nights ago, and he'd been having strange dreams ever since. Dreams that didn't make the slightest sense to him, a sequence of peculiar dreams whose distinct details he couldn't even remember upon waking up.

"Really, I'll get a cab," Kel said after a minute of silence.

Miles grabbed his sneakers. "Meeting up with Paul after," he reasoned. Using his best friend as an excuse to get out of the house was atypical for him these days, but reasonable enough.

Being an only child who had always taken a liking to solitary hobbies, he was used to being alone, just focusing on his art whenever he didn't feel like taking male model jobs. Living alone became easy for him, as much as he enjoyed this private space away from the noisy city.

Until he'd met Kel again at a friend's party months ago, and he'd outright asked her to move in with him. Just like that. Just because he could. And because Mykaela seemed to trust him and everything he said that night. They just hit it off. Days later, he was already helping her unpack her stuff into the guest room upstairs. The rest was history.

"Text him. Ask if he's free today." Kel looked up from her phone and smiled. "I miss him and RJ."

"Call me when you're done."

Milan

12:13PM

"Maximiliano?"

"Mamma?" Miles forced himself to sound pleasantly surprised. The last time he'd talked to his mother, it did not end well. That was about half a year ago.

To say that his parents tolerated his life decisions since he'd moved out would be the nice way of describing his relationship with his folks.

His mother still couldn't understand why he decided to let Mykaela move in with him. His Mamma even said it was "sinful and indecent" that he and Mykaela were living under one roof without their parents' approval.

Sure, his parents bought the house and lot for him, but he was capable of supporting himself now. Didn't that mean he could do things his way? Choose his preferred group of friends without having to consult their opinion?

"Have you had lunch yet? I miss you, bambino." Unlike the last time, his Mamma Eleana's voice sounded nice and endearing.

"Not yet. I'm at the gallery. You with Pappa?"

"No. He's meeting with the new lawyers. I'm at home."

Phone in hand, Miles sat on the couch in the waiting area in the corner of the showroom, waiting for the gallery supervisor to be done preparing his paycheck.

He'd bought in five finished paintings today. If they all passed the quality test, he'd be taking home at least half a grand today. Enough for his and Mykaela's monthly bills. "Why? What lawyers?"

"Your Pappa didn't say anything. How's Mykaela?" His Mamma Eleana's tone sounded curious.

"Busy working. It's Fashion Week," Miles sighed.

"I see. Maxim, have you heard from Niccolo?"

"No." The question surprised him a bit, but Miles opted to sound casual.

Why was his mother asking about his ex? Last time he'd seen Niccolo was at a friend's party a year ago, and Miles didn't even talk to the guy. No texts, calls, or unread chats from Niccolo all year. It was a choice Miles had made to keep his everyday life peaceful and simpler.

"Bambino, be careful," was Eleana Falco's next words. "Okay? You and Mykaela."

Be careful? Why? What was his mother warning him for? Did something happen to Niccolo? "Why, Mamma?" Miles frowned in puzzlement.

"His family's been involved with the Russians. Possibly the Sicilian mafia, too. At least from what I heard."

Sicilian Mafia? "Who told you that?" Were they still talking about Niccolo, his ex? "They run a tailoring business, Mamma," he retorted, unsure of how to react to the news. "I'd think that's the least interesting venture on the mobster bosses' list."

"Just be extra careful," his mother reminded with a stern tone. "I told the guards to keep an eye on you and Mykaela. Don't complain."

"Thanks but not necessary. She doesn't want them around, either."

"Your Pappa insisted."

Fine. Miles shut his eyes and opted not to argue. His Pappa Stefano always had the last say in everything, anyway. Complaining about the security detail would be futile. So Miles moved on to a more neutral topic. "You're coming to Brescia for my birthday?"

"Of course. I miss you all the time. Don't you miss your mother? Don't go anywhere without making sure the guards are right behind you."

"Fine. Bye, Mamma."

"I'm serious." Eleana Falco spoke a tad louder. "And tell Mykaela I said hi."

Miles scrolled through his new playlist and was just about to sprawl on the hotel bed when a sudden slam interrupted his thought. He turned around. His poker-faced girlfriend was fumbling with the door lever.

She didn't bang the door shut, but the noise it made was loud enough to penetrate his thick cushioned headphones. "Don't ask," Kel muttered as she scrambled to lock the tall door. In one swift swipe, she tucked a handful of her bangs behind her ears before tromping towards the bed.

"Wasn't gonna." Miles took the heavy headphones off, and he just watched Kel fling her sweater onto the sofa below the windows. He snickered at how Mykaela just planked flat on the covers.

Her small, flawless face thumped on the pillow at the same time her hair spread out on the sheets.

Miles frowned at the door. It hadn't been a minute since he'd left Kel outside in the hallway, after her determined actor ex-boyfriend caught up to them.

The guy had actually chased them all the way from the photo shoot venue, which explained the kiss Mykaela gave him earlier. Miles wouldn't have left her by herself with her ex, but she insisted that he give them a minute to talk alone. Their roleplay must have worked, because the guy looked away and seemed bothered by their PDA.

That wasn't a while ago. Either Mykaela dropped a slightly lengthier version of "Good to see you again, now get lost" or she didn't talk to Drew at all.

Miles sat on the bed, now curious as a cat to find out how her curt reunion with her former significant other went. But he knew better not to bring it up. Not in her current state.

"Hey." Miles bent down to comb her bangs away from her face. He masked the concern in his voice with a chuckle, then raked his fingers through his greasy, tousled curls. Dammit. He needed a shower. "You good?" he asked Mykaela.

"Far from it," Kel said after a quiet few seconds. Her pale pink lips barely moved because she was mumbling again. Her left arm was awkwardly positioned at her side, and her right forearm was under the pillow her head rested on.

A moment passed before he decided to break off the silence. "Want me to talk to him?"

Her eyes opened after his blunt question. The streak of sunlight passing through the window blinds steadied on the bed, beaming on her hair and slender back. The shadow dimming her skin made the green in her irises appear darker.

Her expression was one he couldn't quite read—like the indecipherable look on her face when her agent told her she'd book more jobs if she lost a few pounds. Absurd, because she was pretty much skin and bones already.

It only reminded him of the sad truth about the fashion industry: female models got paid thrice more than male models. The downside was that the girls always had it worse. Some designers and agents convinced young, less well-known models like Mykaela to limit their daily food intake and calorie count every meal.

"He left yet?" he asked after a soundless minute. If he were Kel's real boyfriend, he'd tell her to quit modeling and finish med school instead. But knowing Mykaela, he knew she'd keep working to save up money for tuition and to help her family.

"No. Can we check out now?"

Miles looked up from his phone and wasn't surprised to see a tall guy leaning against the dingy wall of the hallway.

Drew glanced up, raising his head. His shoulders drooped, and his left leg bent to the side. The hem of his jeans looked an inch too short; his socks were showing and they looked mismatched with his leather oxford shoes.

Miles walked on, his hands stuffed in his pockets, hearing nothing but his muffled footsteps as he approached Mr. Loner. The chandeliers and the dull lighting formed a distorted shadow of his figure on the floor.

The guy's coat bared only his masculine hands and neck with skin as pale as his face, and in person, Drew looked a few years older. Drew held his gaze as Miles neared the spot where he stood.

"You slept yet?"

"On the plane," Drew replied after they shook hands for a brief second. His voice was a bit gruff, and his accent was most audible when he enunciated 'plane'.

Miles halted his casual gait when they were a foot away from each other. He held back a grin when Drew extended a hand, which was probably because their only form of greeting earlier was an exchange of nods in acknowledgement. Miles took note of the guy's drab expression.

"She doin' okay?" Drew now had his hands in his pockets. A small frown etched thin lines on his forehead.

"Better before you showed up," Miles answered frankly, but with a good-humored grin, knowing the guy wasn't going to leave if he didn't get to talk to Kel again. It was understandable; Drew hadn't seen or talked to her in almost a year.

Drew gave a weak grin in response. It was a quiet moment before he spoke again. "You met on the job?"

"Common friend."

Drew's nod was in sync with the ding of the elevator at the end of the hallway.

Unsure if he should continue their small talk, Miles rested his back against the wall. His tired eyes scrutinized the dreary carpet lining the floor. A faint odor of instant coffee was blending with the reek of bourbon lingering in the narrow space they stood in.

Man, was he getting tired of hotels...

He didn't expect much because Kel always preferred not to waste money on expensive hotels, but the management could have at least hired enough maintenance people. If it weren't for the decorative wallpaper and pretty chandeliers, the place would make a perfect scene for a low-budget horror movie.

Although his two-floor house wasn't really a mecca for interior design fanciers, he was missing it badly now that he just wanted to shove Kel in his car and drive back to Brescia. At least he could breathe better there and just lounge around wherever he wanted.

"When'd you first meet?" Drew later questioned with furrowed brows. Curiosity narrowed his deep-set eyes.

Miles couldn't decide whether they were blue or gray. The lights cast uneven shadows on the guy's face. "At a show."

"So, the tall guys outside...buzzcut, dark get-up, leather jacket..."

"Alessio and Roman." Miles shrugged. "Used to have more guys tailing me all over the country actually."

"Really?"

"Perks of having a chronically paranoid businessman for a dad."

"Ah. That explains a lot." Drew was about to ask another question when a shuffling noise behind him cut him off. The door to Mykaela's room jerked open.

Miles stood still, waiting for something to happen.

Mykaela stepped outside in a blink, leaving the door ajar, her dark-lashed eyes on them. Without a word, she walked past him and his stare of curiosity and concern. "Five minutes." She grabbed Drew's arm, then practically dragged the guy into her hotel room.

Of course. Third wheel, it is.

So the two decided to have some alone time and make him feel like the unnecessary chaperone, getting bored out of his wits, waiting for something exciting to happen, anything, really, just to keep him from jumping into his car and leaving this dump of a hostel.

Pulling a face, Miles strolled back into his small hotel room, his phone making noises in his pocket.

His bodyguard's name remained on the phone screen as he hesitated to take the call. What did Alessio want? "Signorino, tutto ok?" the guy asked, sounding normally stiff and overly formal.

"All good." Miles yawned. The security guys must be somewhere near his and Mykaela's hotel room. "Generally harmless. Just a bit of a sad stalker. Quite persistent though; I'm almost impressed."

"Lo stiamo controllando."

"Sure," Miles replied nonchalantly. Drew could be desperate but he didn't seem the type to do something stupid, knowing that strapped security guys could shoot him dead the second he tried to harm him or Mykaela in any way.

"È geloso?"

"Jealous? No. I'm supposed to be the rebound boyfriend but he probably figured it out. We had a chat. She's probably just saying goodbye. Stay outside her room till he walks out. We'll head home after."

"Sì, Signorino," Alessio replied.

"Ora, dove sono i miei genitori?" he asked casually. Why bother calling his parents and getting unsolicited life advice when he could just ask the bodyguards? Easier that way. It's not like his father had time for spontaneous chats, either.

"Firenze, Signorino."

His Mamma and Pappa went to Florence? "Why?"

"Meeting with some bankers, I heard."

"Which ones?"

"They're planning to merge with the Tomassini clan."

"Tomassini?" Miles repeated. The last name just sounded familiar.

"You met the bank owner's son last month. The guy liked two of your paintings," Alessio replied with his thick accent.

"Which one? Haven't cared to check out the family tree."

"Lorenzio Tomassini. He has an older brother also in the business. They're in banking. Real estate. Some other businesses."

"You're sure there's a merger happening?"

"Signore Stefano offered them a deal."

"I bet; his millions in his offshore accounts must be boring him to tears now." Miles wanted to roll his eyes. He couldn't help imagining his father's self-satisfied remarks every time he would announce to their entire clan any big news about the family business. "So what's your take?"

"They chose that clan because they're well-connected. I'm sure the deal is a good one."

"You heard anything about Niccolo?" Miles asked after a brief silence. "The Vinciguerras went to the police. Been missing for weeks now."

"Last August," added his always updated bodyguard. "Did you talk to him recently? Texts, emails, or..."

"No." Miles scowled. He hadn't bothered to respond to any of Niccolo's texts since he'd called it quits with the guy. Their months-long relationship the previous year wasn't one he had fond memories of, to say the least.

"Sei preoccupata, Signorino?"

"Probably just ran off with some guy. Sometimes he just likes drama and pissing off his folks," Miles mumbled. Sometimes his ex was just that self-centered, spoiled rotten by his Fortune 500 family. "Tell Roman we're checking out in an hour." Miles sighed and hung up.

Alone in the cramped hotel room and running out of ideas to keep himself awake, Miles tossed his phone onto the nightstand and pulled a face.

How long was Mykaela going to keep her ex entertained? It'd been almost a year since she left the guy. Miles really thought she'd moved on. Apparently, it was just a careless assumption on his part.

"Nap it off," he muttered to himself while he sat on the hotel bed. "Stop acting like the jealous boyfriend."

All sweaty and uncomfortably lying on his stomach, Miles groaned and pushed himself off the covers. He hauled his tired, heavy legs off the hotel bed and sat up. He sighed. His eyelids felt glued together as sunlight beamed through the windows, warming his bare skin. Miles stayed on the bed, enjoying the total silence in his room.

The only thing he didn't enjoy was the long, weirdass dream he just woke up from.

Well, at least it wasn't a full-on nightmare this time, and it didn't leave him choking himself in his sleep. Last night's dream even made a little more sense; the other ones before had been so jumbled up he barely understood or remembered a thing.

To his sheer curiosity, Mykaela was in it again. But it wasn't her, exactly. The woman in his dream had longer and darker hair, gentle blue eyes, different clothing, and spoke differently. And she'd kept calling him "Maxim" in the dream. Only his family called him Maxim. Kel probably didn't even know his Italian nickname.

Puzzlement overpowered his groggy thoughts, before Miles got up and rubbed sleep out of his eyes. In his dream, the woman seemed to know him well, and vice versa.

What he couldn't figure out was the fact that the same woman had been haunting his dreams for the past couple of days. Not in a horrific sense, though. Just...in a strange and disconcertingly familiar way.

It kind of freaked him out more than the idea of having been living in a dark, abandoned castle in the middle of nowhere—well, in the dream, it seemed like he was in the middle of nowhere.

But really, why was he with the same woman in his dreams every night? Who was she? And why must she look exactly like Mykaela?

What the heck's wrong with his noggin?

Damn. He needed to call up his shrink.

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