The Mafia's Stolen Prize (BL) Chapter 17: Before Night Falls

Milo didn’t go back to his room. He knew that if he stayed there, he would only think about the blood on the grass and the look in the dead man’s eyes.

He felt like a failure. He was certain that Salvatore had already decided to send him back to Nero.

He had to do sothing, he had to find work. He offered to help the laundry maids, but they were finished. He offered to help in the kitchen, but he ran off when he saw Luke glare at him.

Finally, a kind woman asked him to mow the grass in the side garden. He grabbed a sickle and went straight to the far edge of the backyard, where the grass was long and overgrown.

He began to work. He moved on his knees, pulling the tall blades with one hand and swinging the sickle with the other.

His hands were still black from the soot in the chimney, stubborn to remove, and now they were stained with brown soil and green grass juice. A few sharp blades of dry grass scratched his palms, drawing tiny beads of blood, but Milo did not stop.

He did not complain at all.

To him, the burning in his muscles and the scratches on his skin were nothing compared to what Nero had done to him. His tolerance for pain was very high because he had lived with it for thirteen years.

He didn’t know where Salvatore was. He assud the man was very busy. He was sure he didn’t want to see his face again. Why would a powerful Don want to look at soone who couldn’t even pull a trigger?

As the sun climbed higher, Milo paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his dirty hand. He looked toward the stone path and saw two figures. One was Bernard. The other was Salvatore.

Salvatore looked serious, tall, and terrifyingly handso. At the sa ti, he gave Milo goosebumps. Even from a distance, Milo could feel the pressure of the man’s presence. He rembered how that man killed without batting an eye.

Milo shuddered and quickly looked back down at the grass. He worked faster, his heart pounding against his ribs. He was terrified that if he made a mistake, Salvatore might pull out his gun and shoot him right there. That wouldn’t be fun!

Salvatore stopped near a stone bench and looked at Milo in the distance.

"How is he?" Salvatore asked Bernard.

Bernard looked at Milo and then back at his boss. He looked confused.

"Who? The boy? You asked to co just to ask about him? Do you want to hire him or sothing?"

Salvatore didn’t answer. He just kept his eyes on Milo.

"He’s clumsy," Bernard said, shaking his head. "I can tell he’s never done hard labor in his life. His hands are soft. But... he’s determined. He has a strong will. I like the boy. Most people his age would have quit after five minutes of cleaning that chimney, but he stayed until it was clear."

Salvatore watched as Milo pulled a thick clump of weeds. The boy’s movents were slow and careful. He was steady.

"He’s not that clumsy," Salvatore said quietly.

"Well, like I said," Bernard muttered, "he’s determined. He wants to be useful."

Salvatore stared at Milo longer than he intended to. The young man really caught his attention, and it annoyed him.

Since the death of his parents, he had never given himself ti, let alone paid attention to others. And when he could breathe a little, the young man ca along to spark a sense of curiosity.

But he never took on anyone else’s burdens—not if they were useless or just a waste of ti and energy.

Milo might catch his attention, but it wasn’t worth taking on Hartley’s burden. He didn’t want to be seen as a debtor. And seeing how Nero treated him, it seed the man was obsessed with the young man, there would only be more and more obstacles to getting him to take Milo in.

It really wasn’t worth it.

Salvatore told Bernard to leave. The old man muttered to himself as he walked away toward the tool shed. Salvatore pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He leaned against a tree and watched the scene in front of him change.

A small boy, about nine years old, ran out from the house. This was Matteo, or "Teo." Teo was carrying a small sickle. He sat down next to Milo and started to help. Teo’s little hands moved very fast. He was used to this.

Salvatore had "bought" Teo a year ago at one of Macron’s illegal auctions. At the ti, Salvatore was still working under Niccolo. He had seen the boy being sold like a piece of at and had felt a rare flash of anger.

He had taken the boy. As soon as he killed Niccolo and took over the mansion, he had brought Teo here. The child was grateful and worked very hard, usually staying quiet and out of the way.

Now, Salvatore saw Teo talking a lot. He was leaning toward Milo, whispering and smiling. Occasionally, Teo would laugh and show Milo sothing.

What are they talking about? Salvatore wondered. He took a long drag of his cigarette. He had a million things to do. He had a war to plan and a business to run. And yet, here he was, standing in the shade, watching two boys mow his lawn.

He saw other servants, n and won, approach Milo as they walked through the garden. They stopped to say a few words. They looked comfortable around him. But as soon as they noticed Salvatore standing under the tree, they imdiately lowered their heads and walked away quickly.

Salvatore exhaled a final puff of smoke and crushed the cigarette butt into the dirt with his shoe. He turned and walked back toward the mansion. He didn’t say a word.

In the garden, Teo let out a loud sigh of relief as soon as Salvatore disappeared into the house. "Oh, I was really afraid he’d get angry," Teo whispered.

Milo looked at the boy. "Why?"

"He’s very kind, but he’s so strict," Teo said, wiping his hands on his pants.

Milo stopped mowing the lawn. He looked at Teo with a confused expression. "Kind?"

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had just seen Salvatore kill two n in cold blood today. To Milo, Salvatore was a beautiful, terrifying monster.

"Trust ," Teo said. He looked at the mansion with a serious expression. "He’s the kindest man I’ve ever t in that kind of position. I an, he’s from a mafia family, so you can’t expect him to be a saint. But he saved . He took away from a very bad place. He gives food and a place to sleep, and he never tortures ."

Milo went back to mowing the lawn, his mind racing. "I wish he could help too. But he won’t."

"Why?" Teo asked.

Milo looked at Teo, his eyes full of sadness. "I have a master who is very cruel. I wish I could get away from him forever. But I failed Mr. Portello’s test."

Teo looked at Milo with deep sympathy. He reached out and touched Milo’s arm. "Oh. I hope you can find a way to leave there. I would love it if you lived with us. Everyone is very nice here."

Milo looked at Teo and let out a long sigh. "Yes. You are really kind to , Teo. I would love to stay here. But tonight, I think I have to go back."

The two of them worked until the sun was directly overhead. Milo was covered in dirt and sweat, but he felt a strange sense of peace.

For the first ti in his life, he was working because he wanted to, not because soone was holding a belt over his head.

When the work was finished, Milo didn’t expect them to ask him to have lunch with them.

The girl he had t that morning, Michelle, ca out to the garden. She was smiling.

"Co on!" she called out. "It’s ti for lunch."

She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the house. "Wash your hands. You too, Teo! Move it!"

Milo stumbled along behind her. "I... I can eat?"

Michelle looked at him with a surprised expression. "Of course you can eat! Luke prepared the food. He made a huge pot of beef stew. It’s the best in the world! Co on!"

Milo walked into the kitchen to wash his hands. The room was filled with noise. People were laughing and talking loudly as they moved chairs and set the tables.

It was a warm kind of noise that brought a sense of peace.

Milo stood by the sink, srized by the scene. At the Hartley mansion, Nero would fly into a rage if he saw the maids talking or laughing. That man simply hated it when people were happy. He wanted the house to be silent, cold, and professional, like a grave.

He followed Michelle into a side room where there were several long tables and many chairs. Two older won were handing out plates from the kitchen. The sll of the food was incredible.

"Your na is Milo, right?" one of the won asked. She had a kind face and silver hair. "Bernard told about you. Is this enough for you?"

She placed a plate in front of him. It was piled high with tender beef in a thick, dark sauce, along with potatoes and carrots.

Milo nodded quickly. He was used to eating scraps or cold leftovers. This was a feast.

Before he knew it, alti had flown by. They seed interested in him and asked him many questions. Milo was an open person, he liked to chat and hoped to have soone to talk to, because until now that had been impossible while he was still in Nero’s hands.

Nero didn’t like anyone getting close to Milo.

Halfway through the al, Luke walked in. The head chef, who had been so angry and an that morning, was now smiling broadly. He seed like a different man.

"It’s very good, Luke! You’re the best!" one of the n shouted.

Luke’s face lit up even more when he saw the empty plates. He looked at Milo’s plate and saw that every bit of sauce had been wiped clean with a piece of bread. He nodded at Milo with a look of pride.

Luke and a few other won then brought out a dessert, warm apple cake. Milo took a bite and felt like he was in a dream.

"You are all so kind to ," Milo said softly to Michelle.

Michelle smiled and patted his hand. "Oh, don’t say that, sweetie. We’re like a family here."

Milo looked around the table at the humble faces and the warm light. He felt a lump in his throat. He loved that place, but he knew that in a few hours, Nero would arrive, and he would have to leave this warmth forever.