"He... does not pay me," Milo said. Nero only gave him "peace"—a night without a beating.
Alben's eyebrows shot up. "What? You do this for free? Do you love him that much?"
Milo swallowed hard. The question felt like a physical weight. He slowly shook his head.
"What? Then why are you here?" Alben laughed. "Do you just love being fucked that much?"
Milo kept his head down. His face was bright red. The words felt like an assault. He had never enjoyed the things Nero did to him. Every experience with sex had been filled with pain or fear. He didn't know how to explain that feeling.
Alben took a deep breath. "Do you want to sleep with me?"
Milo glanced over at Salvatore. He needed to be with that man. He looked back at Alben and shook his head again. "I... I'm sorry. But I'm here to serve Mr. Portello."
Alben let out a loud laugh and began to walk in a circle around Milo. "Oh, you are so cute, Milo!"
Salvatore saw the tension in Milo's shoulders. "Leave him alone, Ben," Salvatore said. His voice was calm but firm.
Then he looked at Milo. "And you, you should go back to your room."
Milo looked at Salvatore, but Alben moved again, stepping back into Milo's line of sight to block the view.
"Salvatore told me you are a child," Alben said. "Tell him, how old are you?"
"I am... twenty," Milo said. "Almost twenty-one."
Alben turned back to Salvatore with a grin. "See? He's legal to fuck. And he's here for you, but I'm sure you're not interested. So tell him to serve me instead. I have nothing to do tonight."
Salvatore narrowed his eyes as he looked at Milo's face. He was trying to decide if the boy was lying about his age. Milo looked much younger, but his voice sounded like he was telling the truth.
Joe, who had been standing quietly and looking irritated, finally moved. He walked over and suddenly kicked Milo's legs.
Milo let out a cry of surprise and fell hard onto his knees.
"What do you really want?" Joe demanded. His voice was deep and scary. He didn't see a weapon on Milo, but he didn't trust him. "Did Hartley send you to spy on us? What did he tell you to look for?"
Milo stayed on his knees. He was terrified. He hadn't expected the situation to turn violent so quickly. "I... I just have to serve Mr. Portello," he stammered.
"There is no way Hartley isn't paying you for this," Joe snapped. "Don't lie to me!"
Milo looked at Joe with wide eyes. "I am not lying! I don't have bad intentions, I swear!"
Salvatore felt a strange sensation in his chest as he watched Milo. He wasn't the kind of man who felt curious about strangers, but there was something about the way Milo looked—so terrified and so fragile—that made him want to intervene.
Joe reached down and grabbed a handful of Milo's hair, pulling his head back. Milo winced in pain, but he did not fight back. He did not even raise his hands to stop the man.
Salvatore noticed this immediately. It was the reaction of someone who was used to being handled roughly.
"Stop it, Joe," Salvatore ordered.
"No," Joe said. "They must have sent him here for a reason. You have to be careful."
Salvatore stood up and walked closer. He reached out and pulled Joe's hand away from Milo's hair. Then he knelt down so he was at eye level with the young man.
Milo's eyes were watery and full of fear. For a split second, Salvatore wanted to reach out and touch the boy's face, but he stopped himself.
"I don't know what secret you are hiding," Salvatore said. His voice was a low warning. "But if you are here to get information, you won't get anything. If I find out you are a spy, I will send your head back to Hartley in a box."
Milo held his breath. He had spent his life trying to survive Nero, and now he was being threatened with death by Salvatore.
"Please," he whispered. "I don't have bad intentions. I swear."
Salvatore looked into Milo's hazel eyes. They were wide and honest.
Felix, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "I don't think Hartley would use someone like him to spy on us. He looks like he can barely stand up."
Alben reached down and pulled Milo back to his feet. "You are scaring him, Salvatore. I'll just take him to my room," Alben said, grabbing Milo's arm.
Milo looked down. He felt like he had no choice. If Alben took him, he would have to go.
Salvatore looked at Milo's face. The young man did not look like a professional gigolo. He looked more like a human trafficking victim.
"Leave him," Salvatore said. "You will not touch him."
"Why?" Alben asked. "He is twenty. If you don't want him, he should sleep with me." Alben looked at Milo. "You are used to being fucked, right? What can you do for a man?"
Milo looked at the floor and swallowed hard. "I... I can do anything."
Alben looked at Salvatore and smirked. "See? He's just a whore."
Salvatore felt a flash of anger, though he didn't know why. He sat back down on the sofa and picked up his ledger. "Leave him alone. We still have work to do."
Alben looked disappointed. "Seriously?"
Salvatore said nothing. But he ordered Milo to sit still on the sofa. He knew that if he left the room now, Alben would follow him and take him to his room.
He didn't want that to happen. He didn't know why he cared, but he decided that Milo would stay in his sight for the rest of the night.
Milo walked to the corner and sat down. He was still trembling, but he felt a small sense of relief. He was in the same room as Salvatore. He just had to wait for the other men to leave.
He had to wait for his chance to see what was hidden under Salvatore's black shirt.