Milo lay in the center of the large bed. The mattress was thick and very soft. In the Hartley mansion, he had a room, but it was not like this. A small space right next to Nero's bedroom.
It was more like a closet than a room. Nero wanted him there so he could call for him at any time of the night. That room had a bed Nero didn't care to change after years, and no blanket or pillow.
This bed was different. He even got a pair of pillows and a blanket. The blanket was heavy and felt like silk against his skin. It was really comfortable for the spring.
Usually, Milo slept without any clothes on because Nero forced him to stay naked. It felt strange to feel the fabric of the shirt and trousers Stella had given him. He moved his legs under the covers.
The comfort was overwhelming. For a few minutes, he just lay there and stared at the high ceiling. There were beautiful patterns on the ceiling above him. He could not believe he was allowed to stay in a room this nice.
He began to think about Salvatore. He thought about the advice the man had given him.
Kill Nero. Be brave.
Milo looked at his own hands in the dim light. They were thin and pale. He had never hurt anyone in his life. He spent his days being a toy for Nero. He did not know how to fight.
He did not think he could ever kill a rat, let alone a human, even a man as bad as Nero.
"I don't want to kill," Milo whispered to the quiet room. "I just want to stay here."
He thought that maybe if he showed Salvatore how useful he could be, the man would change his mind. Salvatore wanted strong men who could hold guns, but maybe he needed someone to take care of the house too.
Milo decided he would work as hard as he could the next day. He wanted to prove he was capable of doing things.
Eventually, his eyes became heavy. He was exhausted. The mental stress of the last few days had drained his energy. He fell into a deep sleep.
But sleep did not bring peace. He had nightmares. He saw Nero's golden eyes glowing in the dark. He heard the sound of a leather belt snapping in the air. He saw Ronald's gray, dead face staring at him.
Milo woke up many times, gasping for air and shaking. Every time he woke up, he looked at the room and remembered he was safe for now. He would close his eyes again and try to rest, only for a new dream to start.
When Milo finally woke up for the last time, it was morning. A thin line of sunlight was coming through the window. He felt hot. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and neck. His throat felt very dry. He needed water.
But he realized there was no water there.
He crawled off the bed. He was careful not to mess up the sheets too much, but he still stopped to fold the blankets perfectly. He smoothed out the pillow. He wanted the room to look like no one had been there.
He saw the house sandals Stella had left for him, but he decided not to wear them. He was used to being barefoot.
He walked out of the room. The floor was cold, but it felt good against his skin. He walked slowly down the long corridor. The mansion was silent. The high walls and large paintings made him feel like he was walking through an empty museum.
He did not see any servants or guards in this part of the house. He wondered if everyone was still asleep.
He walked toward the kitchen. It was the only place he remembered how to find. As he passed a side door that led to the back garden, he heard a rhythmic sound.
Twenty-one! Twenty-two! Twenty-three!
Milo stopped. He walked closer to the glass door and looked out. In the garden, a group of men were outside. They were not wearing shirts. They were in a line, doing push-ups on the grass.
"Do they always do push-ups every day?" Milo thought. But when he saw the men, he was sure they did it regularly. Look at those muscles.
Their muscles were large and moved under their skin as they pushed themselves up and down. Milo watched them. He saw the sweat shining on their backs. He swallowed hard. He had never seen so many strong men in one place.
"Damn! What are you thinking?!" Milo whispered to himself. He felt a blush creep up his neck. He felt ashamed for looking at them like that. He turned away from the door quickly, his heart beating fast.
"Hey, do you need something?" a voice asked from behind him.
Milo jumped. He turned around and saw a young woman standing there. She wore casual trousers and a simple shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a neat tie. She looked kind.
Milo nodded quickly, his face still red. "I... I just need some water. Please."
The girl smiled. "I'm going that way. Follow me."
Milo followed her. She walked with confidence. He stayed a few steps behind her, looking at his bare feet as they moved over the stone floor. They entered the kitchen, and the silence of the mansion disappeared.
The kitchen was full of people. There were women carrying trays and men moving boxes of food. In the center of the room, a large, fat man with a white apron was shouting.
Later on, Milo learned he was Luke, the head chef.
"Get out of my way! Get out of my kitchen! Why is everyone in here? Breakfast is not ready yet!" Luke yelled. He was pushing through a crowd of women who were talking near a large table. He looked annoyed. He was looking for something.
"Where is that fucking knife?!"
He pushed a chair out of the way and looked under a pile of towels.
"Oh, Luke, it is impossible that you lost your knife here," an older woman said. She was leaning against a counter, holding a cup of coffee.
"I know someone touched it! Someone moved it and didn't put it back!" Luke screamed. He was pacing back and forth, his face turning red.