Isolation: Book 2 of The Quarantine Series Read online

  Not to mention, the dark circles under my eyes are not cute and very much being looked down upon by Theressa dearest.

  Some days I am so fucking delusional from lack of sleep that I can’t tell if I am dreaming or if it’s really happening. It’s embarrassing, but I have literally ran into doors from my haze.

  “Raven, you can’t keep taking Ambien just to sleep for an hour or two. You know how dangerous they are.”

  “Milo,” I groan. “Please, it’s late. No lectures.”

  I hear his husky laugh. “It’s not late, baby. It’s mid-day, remember? And my lectures are good for the soul. We can talk about what’s causing your lack of sleep, if you like.”

  That would gut him. There might have been a time when I wanted that, but not anymore.

  Uncle Reese wanted his children to grow up with all the luxuries he was denied; private school education, trust funds, and a large house to entertain their friends.

  He was proud that his children were privileged. He wanted to serve the world to them on a silver platter.

  I used to think that his thought process was skewed. His children would much rather have his attention and time than the other superficial offerings.

  However, watching the end result, I can’t argue with his logic. New York is flashy and people here are desperate to belong to flashy inner circles.

  Enamored by their mansion-like home and seemingly grand life, the Sinclairs were surrounded by people. It gave them credibility and connections in a superficial society; though no one knew what it took to keep up this façade.

  Milo’s trust fund ensured that he is the majority share owner of his company. He was able to recruit investors at the mere age of twenty-one because they didn’t suspect a rich kid of running away with their money.

  Milo would have been successful regardless, but probably not at such a young age without the backing Uncle Reese insisted that his children received.

  Yes, their childhood was hard. But Uncle Reese wanted to give his children their best chances. From the looks of it, he did just that. His calculations paid off.

  Milo’s career is only in the beginning stages according to the Forbes article about him. He is already well off. I can’t imagine where he will be in a few years.

  That same article quoted his company’s worth. Even now, his company is worth enough that Milo can sell his share and walk away a very wealthy man.

  Unfortunately, Milo is not a regular twenty-five-year-old. While selling his company might ensure that he will remain a rich New York bachelor until whatever next passion project comes his way, it will not be enough to support a houseful of people who are used to a luxury lifestyle.

  Perhaps Milo is just like Uncle Reese in that regard, stuck on trying to provide everything he possibly can for his family. He is a man of habits, after all. One of his habits is taking care of people.

  I hope it’s a habit he can someday break to become a free man.

  Whatever he decides, I just know that I don’t want to be one more person he has to take care of, or yet another burden.

  I can’t even count the number of all-nighters I have seen him pull in this month alone, and all the shit I have seen him do for the household to take care of everyone. I can’t be another person that he has to worry about or feel guilt over. We are past all of that.

  “We can work on identifying the issues and come up with a plan accordingly,” Milo continues with the lecture that I have been sleepily tuning out.

  I slowly flutter my eyes open, turn to him and smile. He looks like an angel sent here to help me chase away my demons. A beautiful angel with beautiful eyes.

  Do angels also have their own demons? It looks like the angel and the devil are in an epic battle inside of him. It’s ironic because the devil is also an angel.

  I shake my head at my ridiculous thoughts. “You are so cute.” I lean over to kiss his stupid, arrogant face.

  He brushes the hair off my face. “I am serious, baby. We have to work on this. It’s getting bad.”

  “I know,” I agree because otherwise this man is going to call every therapist and specialist under the sun, if he hasn’t done so already.

  I have to tell him everything so he understands that he is wasting his time talking to therapists. I probably have to do it sooner than later. I just want us to have a few more days. We need more time.

  “Good,” Milo sighs and presses more light kisses all over my face.

  I hum contentedly. I can’t get enough of this. How come it was never this good before?

  The back of Milo’s hand continues to stroke my cheek. I can’t decide what I like better. The small kisses all over my face or the gentle strokes.

  I love this side of Milo. It makes me feel so cherished and protected. When he is not busy making his business partners’ lives miserable, he has this softer side that no one else gets to see.

  Selfishly, I prefer it this way. This side belongs to only me. I wish I could pocket it and keep it away from everyone else for safekeeping.

  My eyes land on Milo’s semi-hard cock. He just finished but I shouldn’t be surprised. This man always walks around with a hard on when I am around.

  I trail my hand down his stomach when Milo breaks the spell. “Baby, you are shaking.”

  Seriously? I can’t help a physiological reaction. Did he have to ruin the moment?

  “I get cold easily,” I say in a mildly irritated tone. “My shaking never stopped you before. Why is it such a problem now?” I immediately snap my mouth shut.

  Fuck. Those words just slipped out. I shouldn't have said it.

  I know that Milo is trying to change. Despite my previous beliefs and against all odds, he has changed.

  I am just frustrated at the situation. How are we supposed to move forward if I can’t stop reacting to him, and if he won’t stop noticing it?

  Something has to give.

  Milo ignores my tone but I feel his irritation creeping up as well. He stands from the bed.

  “I’ll go adjust the heat,” he says coolly. A few minutes pass before I watch him move to adjust the heat and fall back on the bed.

  The last fews weeks have been magical. Last night was beautiful. Today has been wonderful thus far.

  But right now, it's fucking tense again. It’s silly to let this ruin the moment.

  “I am sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t mean to snap. I am frustrated at myself for reacting this way. It’s not intentional.”

  Milo closes his eyes. “I know.” He wants to say more, but he is controlling himself. “There is something I have been meaning to ask you,” he finally spits it out.

  Keeping my eyes locked on him, I nod. “Sure.”

  Milo draws lines on my arm with his fingers. “What exactly were your feelings for me back then?” There is not a hint of amusement on his face with that question, just a stoic expression.

  I am pretty sure I know what he is referring to, but I still clarify. “Do you mean when we first started sleeping together?”

  Milo gives me a small nod, his eyes intense as ever.

  I contemplate for a few minutes on how to verbalize my feelings. “I-I don’t know,” I admit hesitantly. I make it worse when I add, “I think the imbalance of the power dynamic in our relationship didn’t leave room to view you as a romantic partner.”

  It’s not that Milo was able to dominate the relationship because he was a man. It wasn’t about gender. Age wasn't the problem either. I dated older men before Milo.

  The problem was that one party held significantly more power while the other was a minor and legally under his protection.

  When Milo doesn’t respond, I start to babble nervously. “It was already difficult for me to process romantic feelings. All I witnessed were broken relationships that stemmed from romance. My only definition of love became friendship and family. I guess you could say I put all of my eggs in that basket, and my heart simply wasn’t open to entertain any other types of love.”

  I look at Milo, hoping that my long explanation is sufficient. Yes, I was attracted to Milo back then, but we were in such different points of our lives.

  I often find myself wishing that Milo waited for me, and expressed his interest later in our lives instead of leading with a sexual relationship.

  It's a pointless thought. We can't change the past, but I still wonder how different our lives could have been if he had just waited.

  It was simply not our time back then.

  The truth is, the right guy at the wrong time, is still the wrong guy.

  Milo simply frowns. “Friendship type of love? Is that why you agreed to be in a relationship with Reid?”

  Ay vey. This is another difficult conversation. I can tell that his mood is quickly shifting.

  “Reid was there for me during some difficult times,” I explain calmly. “For the longest time, Mia and Reid felt like my only family. When he presented some logical aruments about how a progression between us could be for the better, I couldn’t decline."

  “So, he manipulated you?”

  I am taken back by the harsh words. I am sure it's written all over my face as well. This whole inquiry seems unnecessary. It can only bring up resentment over a past that we can't change. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You implied it.”

  “Are you telling me that you have never tried to manipulate me?” I ask in a frustrated voice.

  Milo is being hypocritical right now. At times, all three Sinclair siblings, Milo included, have manipulated me. It’s not intentional. They do it absentmindedly.

  Would I ever let another other person without the Sinclair last name get away with the same things?

  Hell no.

  Why do I look the other way when it comes to them?

  In every way, each Sinclair has done more for me than my own parents who brought me to life. This gratitude for the Sinclairs will always exist in my heart.

  The way I see it, it’s picking your battles. If it’s something that I can provide without an extensive fight with myself, it makes me happy to do so. Plus, remember? I am a Sinclair pleaser.

  Reid knew that I didn't view him romantically. All he asked of me was to try for something more. His arguments resonated with me.

  Was I aware that he was wording his arguments in a way that would resonate with me?

  Yes.

  Could that be considered manipulation?

  Perhaps.

  All the same, did it change anything?

  No.

  Reid drew a picture of the type of life I have always wanted. I wasn't interested in anyone else. And I never thought Milo and I would be in this position.

  It meant the world to Reid if I agreed to something more. At that time, nothing was holding me back from at least considering what he was asking of me.

  But Milo is still unforgiving of that simple consideration. He frowns at my response. He looks irritated again and I am starting to feel like that little girl being disciplined by an adult.

  "So, now I am the one manipulating you?" Milo snaps at me.

  What is going on today? We haven't argued in weeks and now shit just keep piling up.

  I sigh. "Look, I don't want to keep arguing with you. When I agreed to Reid, we hadn’t seen each other in years and you weren’t exactly my favorite person. But things have changed between us. I feel differently for you. Can’t we just focus on that?”

  Milo pauses for a few minutes and searches my eyes for a minute longer. “Okay.” He slowly lies back on his pillow and closes his eyes. “Now, about my other cheek.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “My other cheek,” Milo repeats simply. “You were supposed to kiss my other cheek before you distracted me with your Harlotten ways.”

  I turn to stare at him.

  I am shocked.

  We just had an intense conversation that I thought would send Milo off the rails. Instead, he seems placated with my answer.

  I am happily surprised by how quickly Milo can let go of shit now. It’s beyond sexy when a man can do that instead of whining and bitching.

  “I already gave you a pity kiss on one cheek,” I tease.

  “Pity kiss? You cried your eyes out until I conceded and let you kiss me. Count your blessings that I threw you a bone. I usually charge people for kissing me.”

  “So, you are a prostitute?” I ask curiously.

  “I believe the term is lady of the night,” Milo tsks.

  “Then you are the world’s worst lady of the night,” I say with a severely straight face. “First, you are not a lady. Second, who whores out their cheek for money? It’s like the worst service you can provide. And who the fuck would even pay for it?”

  “You would.”

  I can’t even with this man. He is crazy. I say nothing more and just smile to myself.

  When he doesn’t hear a response out of me, he speaks again on his own accord. “Are you doing that thing where you stay quiet, and you act like you are not about to burst out laughing?”

  I bite the inside of my cheeks to stop the laughter from rolling out.

  “If you just kiss my other cheek, I’ll probably open my eyes again.”

  Fine! I stay quiet, but move to kiss his other cheek. In a pure Milo move, he moves his face as soon as he feels my proximity and takes me in a lip lock instead.

  “Are you happy now, princess?” I say against his lips.

  Milo tilts his face. “Are we back to that? If I am a princess, then you are my lady-in-waiting, and I demand to be catered to.” He claps his hand. “Let’s go. Cater to me.”

  “Oh? And how would your highness like to be catered to?”

  Milo looks lost in thought for a moment. “You can start by feeding me breakfast.”

  I give him a peeved look. “You are a grown-ass man. Feed yourself.”

  He cheekily grins. “You are a rude ass lady-in-waiting. I might have to dock your pay.”

  I decide to humor his crazy ass and locate the knife and fork. With a fork in one hand and knife in the other, I cut through the now soggy French toast. I lift the fork to his mouth and inwardly grimace.

  That does not look appetizing. I don’t know why he is insistent on eating the soggy French toast.

  Milo takes a bite of the toast, and his stupid poker face crumbles. “That’s disgusting.”

  I try to act offended, but I can’t hold it in. The laughter rips through me. “Hey, I worked really hard on that.”

  “Really, baby? Did you work hard on that or did you just order it from Sordi and then put it on a plate?”

  My whole face splits open. I have no fucking idea on how to make French toast. Milo loves French toasts, and Sordi is his favorite breakfast spot.

  “I cut up the strawberry and put it on the toast myself,” I proudly announce while Milo chuckles. “And the coffee,” I add. That has to count for something. “And the orange juice.”

  “You mean you poured orange juice from a bottle into a glass.”

  “Well, I held the glass while Mom poured it.”

  Milo’s laughter echoes through the room. “Baby, you are pathetic in the kitchen.”

  “That’s not true,” I try to make my case. “What happened to, it’s thought that counts?”

  “People only say that when they do thoughtless things.”

  I feign a dramatic show of leaving. I get up from the bed, but Milo quickly grabs my elbow to halt me.

  It all happens so fast.

  It’s probably the lack of sleep.

  It’s definitely the lack of sleep.

  One moment we are joking around. The next moment, startled by his sudden move, I dig the sharp end of the knife into my thigh.

  Milo’s quick reflexes kick in. He immediately grabs my hand before the knife can do any damage. In another swift move, he pries the knife out of my hand and scoops me into his lap.

  His hands frantically inspect my thigh area around my shorts. When he doesn’t notice any damage, he holds on to me tightly, occasionally kissing my shoulder.

  Shock.

  That’s all both of us are left with. Neither of us says a single word. Milo is holding on to me as if he is scared that I’ll disappear into thin air.

  “Milo, I...” I trail off before I can even explain.

  It doesn’t make any sense. Milo might have been my worst nightmare once upon a time, but things have changed. There has been sexual acts that I willingly participated over the last few days. I even initiated it.

  He has grabbed me suddenly before. This has never happened.

  “It’s okay,” he immediately assures, almost as if he is saying it to himself.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t scare me, baby,” he reaches over and kisses my cheek.

  “I think I did,” I say quietly.