Milo opened his eyes. He startled.

The ceiling was unfamiliar.

He blinked twice, then sat up quickly. The blanket slid off his lap. He looked around the room, at the dim light coming through the curtains, at the large bed he was lying in, and it all hit him at once.

Salvatore’s room.

He had fallen asleep here.

Milo pressed both hands to his face. He had no idea how long he’d been out. He assumed Salvatore hadn’t come back yet, probably still dealing with Felix downstairs. That was the only reason he’d let himself close his eyes for just a moment.

He reached up and touched his forehead. There was something there. He pulled it off and held it in front of him. A fever patch.

He stared at it.

Had Salvatore put this on him?

Milo set it carefully on the nightstand and slipped off the bed. His feet touched the floor quietly. He straightened his shirt and moved toward the curtain.

He needed to leave before the man came back and found him still here as if he owned the place.

He pushed the curtain aside. He stopped.

Salvatore was on the sofa.

The man was lying on his back, one arm resting across his stomach, the other hanging off the edge.

Asleep. The man had come back and chosen the sofa instead of his own bed.

Milo stood still for a moment.

The room was dark except for the soft light filtering in through the balcony window.

Still night. He looked out. The sky was deep blue, no sign of dawn yet.

He looked back at Salvatore.

The man wasn’t wearing a shirt. Milo already knew that from earlier, but earlier he hadn’t been looking. Not like this.

The tattoos covered most of his chest and arms, dark and layered, some large and some small, all pressed together as if they were hiding something underneath.

Milo took a step closer without really meaning to.

Alben had told him that Salvatore covered his scars with ink. That the man had more wounds on his body than most people ever saw in their lifetime.

Milo hadn’t thought much of it then.

He thought about it now.

He moved slowly until he was standing beside the sofa. Up close, the tattoos looked different. Less decorative and more deliberate.

He could see where the skin underneath wasn’t smooth. A deep line running along the side of his hip. Two more across his ribs, faded but still clear if you knew where to look.

There were others on his chest, but the ink made them hard to make out.

Milo didn’t know why he was looking so closely. He just couldn’t stop.

Then he saw the names.

Small letters woven into the design so neatly that he almost missed them.

Merciano.

Arthur.

Daniella.

Bernard.

Each one in a different spot.

Milo straightened up.

He had no idea who they were. His exes or his partners?

Either way, it wasn’t his business.

He took a step back. Looked at how peaceful Salvatore was. So handsome.

Then he touched his own lips without thinking.

He stopped the moment he realized what he was doing.

The kiss. Wet and warm. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since it happened.

He knew he shouldn’t think of it romantically. Salvatore had done it to get Felix to leave. That was the only reason.

It meant nothing to him. The man was experienced and calm about it and had moved on immediately afterward.

Milo was the one standing here in the dark, touching his mouth like an idiot.

He dropped his hand.

Salvatore wouldn’t want someone like him in that way. The man had standards and a world that Milo barely fit into as an employee.

The man wasn’t sleeping on the bed with him, he was on the sofa, which said it all.

Milo exhaled quietly.

He should wake Salvatore and tell him to take the bed. Then go back to his room and forget about all of this.

He reached out and touched the man’s arm.

Salvatore’s eyes opened immediately.

Milo didn’t have time to react. The man grabbed both his arms and pulled hard, and Milo fell to the floor with a short yell.

"Argh!"

Salvatore was above him, one hand drawn back, ready to punch. His expression was completely blank and fully awake in the wrong way. His eyes were sharp but unfocused, as if he were staring at a threat.

Milo held completely still. "Sir! It’s Milo! It’s me!"

Something shifted in Salvatore’s expression. He looked at him. Really looked. Then his hand dropped when he realized it really was Milo.

He let go of Milo’s arms and sat back, breathing heavily.

He stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

"Don’t do that!" he snapped.

His voice was rough. Not angry. Just rough.

"I’m sorry," Milo said. He touched his neck where the grip had been.

Salvatore stood up. He ran a hand over his face. "What happened?"

"No... nothing happened." Milo got to his feet slowly. "I just wanted to wake you up so you could take the bed. I was going back to my room."

Salvatore looked at him for a moment. He remembered that Milo had had a fever. Then he walked to the small cabinet near the wall and opened it. He returned with a pill and held it out.

"Take this."

Milo looked at it, confused. But he took it anyway.

"You had a fever."

"I’m fine, sir."

"You should have told me."

Milo looked at the pill. "But I’m really fine. Thank you."

He held it in his palm and looked at it. The fever made sense. His body had been pushed hard with training every day, and then yesterday in the lake had been a shock to his system. He had felt off since morning but figured he could push through it.

"Go take it, and sleep," Salvatore said. He had already turned away.

"Yes, sir."

Milo walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the frame, not sure why, then kept moving.

The hallway was quiet. His room was at the end of it.

He had spent the night in Salvatore’s bed, received a fever patch, been kissed in front of Felix, pulled off a sofa, and almost been punched.

One night. So much experience.

The next morning.

Milo opened his eyes to light streaming through the window.

He sat up and looked at the clock.

It was past nine. He was late!

He was out of bed before he could fully process it, grabbing his clothes and pulling them on quickly. He had never been late for morning training.

Not once since he arrived. He didn’t know what Salvatore did to people who skipped without a reason, and he didn’t want to find out today.

He jogged out of his room and down the hall, pushed through the side door, and stepped out onto the field.

Everyone had finished their exercises.

Milo stood there and felt his stomach drop.

Then the side door opened behind him and a group of guards came out, heading toward the pantry. A few of them glanced over at him.

"Morning," one of them said.

"Morning," Milo said automatically. He was still looking at the field.

Another guard walked past and patted his shoulder once. "Hey. Relax. Go back to sleep if you want. Salvatore said you’re off today."

Milo turned to look at him. "He said that?"

"This morning before training. Said you were sick and to leave you." The man shrugged as if it were nothing and kept walking toward the pantry.

Milo stood where he was.

Salvatore had told them he was sick. He had planned for it. Milo hadn’t asked, hadn’t said anything when he left the room last night, and the man had still arranged it on his own.

Milo wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He was still standing there thinking about it when something hit his shoulder from behind. Not hard, but sudden enough to make him step forward.

He turned around.

Teo was standing there with both hands behind his back and a wide grin on his face. The boy was practically bouncing.

"Milo! Come here, come here!" He grabbed Milo’s wrist and started pulling without waiting for an answer.

"What? Where are we going?"

Teo didn’t explain. He just pulled.

Milo followed him around the side of the building where a small group of guards had gathered near the edge of the yard. They weren’t heading to the pantry.

They were standing in a loose cluster facing something, a few of them with arms crossed, watching.

As Milo got closer, he heard it. A sharp crack, then a split second of silence, then another crack. Rhythmic and heavy.

Teo pushed between two of the taller guards without any hesitation. "Move, move!"

"Teo, watch it, kid."

"Sorry!" He didn’t sound sorry at all.

Milo stepped up behind him and looked through the gap.

Salvatore was in the yard, splitting wood!

The man had a full stack of logs to his left and was working through them one by one.

He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and the fabric was already soaked across his back and shoulders. He placed a log upright on the chopping block, raised the axe, and brought it down in one smooth motion.

The wood split and fell into two pieces. He kicked them aside and reached for the next one without pausing.

The guards watched in silence. Some of them looked amused. None of them said a word.

Salvatore placed another log, glanced up, and saw them.

"Get out of here before I make you all do this."

The group sighed and scattered immediately. They’d just wanted to watch.

Milo stayed. Teo stayed beside him, still grinning.

Salvatore picked up another log and looked at them.

"What are you looking at?"

"I want to see," Teo said simply.

Salvatore stared at him for a moment. Then he reached down and picked up a second axe from the ground. He walked over to a smaller log on the side, set it on its own block, and held the axe out to Teo.

"Then do something useful. Go."

Teo took the axe with both hands and his entire expression changed. He looked completely serious, as if someone had given him a real task. He walked over to the small log, planted his feet, and studied it.

Milo watched him and felt a tightness in his chest. He wanted to try too.

"I want to do it too," Milo said.

Salvatore turned and looked at him. He gave him a once-over.

"Go back to your room."

"I’m fine now, sir."

"Go back to your room or go exercise right now."

Milo shut his mouth.

The morning workout had nearly worn him out on a good day. He wasn’t going to make it through it now.

"Yes, sir."

He pouted in disappointment; he wanted to see it too. He turned and walked back toward the building.

Behind him, he heard the faint, heavy crack of Teo’s axe striking the wood, followed immediately by Teo letting out a frustrated groan because it hadn’t split at all.

Then Salvatore’s voice, calm. "Again. Keep your wrist straight."

Milo went back inside, sadly.

He stood in the hallway for a moment, then went to the pantry, got a glass of water and a piece of bread, and went back to his room.

He lay down on top of the blanket and stared at the ceiling.

Then he pulled the blanket over himself and went back to sleep.