Salvatore’s office.

Salvatore sat on the sofa with Felix beside him. His sleeves were rolled up, a cigarette held between his fingers. He spoke seriously to Felix, glancing repeatedly at the door, his eyes narrowing slightly.

He tried not to let it bother him, but he was a bit worried now. Alben was in Milo’s room.

After quite some time, Alben finally walked in. His usual cocky stride had lost some of its bounce, replaced by a look of sheer, frustrated disbelief.

Salvatore exhaled a long cloud of smoke. He wasn’t patient anymore. He’d been waiting for Alben to admit his failure. He’d hoped Alben would fail.

"What did you do to that kid?" Alben asked as he slumped onto the sofa across from them. He let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "He was so scared of me. Like I was carrying a plague!"

Salvatore felt a wave of genuine relief wash over him. It wasn’t just that Alben had failed; it was that Milo had actually listened.

Salvatore didn’t laugh, but a small, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Felix’s expression changed drastically. His face turned sour. He didn’t share the sentiment. He turned his head sharply, his eyes flashing with irritation.

"You’re still here? It’s been a week and you still haven’t managed to fuck him? Since when did you become so weak?"

Felix’s voice was laced with a specific kind of bitterness. He had hoped that if Alben successfully distracted Milo, Salvatore would lose interest in the little chicken.

If Milo became just another one of Alben’s conquests, he would no longer be a special guy for the Don.

Alben leaned his head back against the sofa and sighed heavily. For a man who prided himself on being able to charm anyone into a bedroom within three hours, this week had been a massive blow to his ego.

"He was crying. Damn! I didn’t even touch him!" Alben threw his hands up dramatically. "I walked in and he scrambled onto the bed like I wanted to kill him. Then he cried. I felt like a monster. Really!"

"Crying? What is he, a baby?" Felix mocked, his lip curling. "He’s twenty years old. He’s seen enough in Nero’s house to know how the world works. It’s an act. He’s playing the victim to get attention."

Salvatore took another drag of his cigarette. He didn’t interrupt. He liked hearing how his lesson was playing out in Milo’s real life. He could relax now.

"I hope you didn’t hurt him after he refused you," Salvatore said, his voice dropping into a lower, warning tone.

Alben looked offended. "I’m not that kind of bastard, Sal. You know me. If they don’t want it, I don’t want it. I didn’t touch him. You win your bet, or whatever this is. I’m done. I won’t touch him again. But seriously, what did you do to him? He’s terrified of me."

Salvatore smirked through the smoke. "What could I do? I told him he has a choice. Apparently, he’s making one."

"I’m sure you did something," Alben muttered. "No one refuses what I’ve offered him. I mean, no sane human being would refuse it."

"It’s his choice," Salvatore repeated.

Felix turned to Salvatore, his arms crossed tightly. "He’s just here for the money. I’m sure of it. He’s targeting you, Sal."

Alben let out a sharp "tsk" and looked at Felix. "Do you think I’m not rich? I offered him jewelry, clothes, name anything. I offered him a car! He didn’t even consider my offer."

"Well, I’m not saying you aren’t rich. But compared to Salvatore? Yes. It’s obvious," Felix snapped.

Alben opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. After Salvatore returned to Portello, he was the wealthiest man in the district. He realized Felix was right. Salvatore’s shadow was much larger than his own.

"Damn..." Alben murmured.

Salvatore ignored the bickering. He was tired of Felix’s constant jealousy. It was a recurring theme that was starting to interfere with his focus.

"So, he definitely didn’t want to fuck you?" Salvatore asked Alben, his tone almost teasing.

"No. Not at all," Alben said, regaining some of his humor. "He looked at me like I tried to take his soul. It was actually quite refreshing to be rejected that thoroughly."

The door opened, and Roderick walked in. He had a tray with three chilled bottles of wine and four glasses.

"Want some wine? Hartley sent a peace offering today," Roderick said, setting the tray on the coffee table. "They signed the border property documents this morning."

No one in the room was going to refuse wine. Roderick began to uncork the first bottle.

"They’ve already signed?" Salvatore asked, looking at Alben. "You can come and check out the warehouse tomorrow. Do whatever you need to with the space, but I want a clear agreement on it."

Alben nodded, finally focusing on business. "I just need a new place to store my stuff. I’ll check the place tomorrow. I think I need to make some arrangements. But I honestly didn’t expect them to give it up so easily."

"They had no choice," Salvatore said. "They give me the building, or they lose three times its value in lost cargo or the hassle."

Roderick poured the wine and handed out the glasses. Salvatore took a sip, swirling the pale liquid around his tongue. He paused. He took another sip, his brow furrowing.

"This tastes different from the last time they brought it," Salvatore said. He picked up the bottle and examined the label. The brand was Hartley, but the flavor profile was unmistakable. "This is familiar."

"It should be," Roderick said, standing by the desk. "It’s their local reserve. But our sources say they recently hired the head winemaker who used to run the Portello vineyard before your uncle let it fall apart."

Salvatore’s eyes darkened. He looked at the label again, then at Felix. "So, I’ve been asking for days to find the man who used to produce our wine. I wanted him back to restore the vineyard. And you told me he disappeared."

Felix fell silent. He stared at his glass.

"Don’t tell me you knew he was at the Hartley estate and you didn’t tell me," Salvatore said, his voice turning ice-cold.

Felix looked at Salvatore, his expression defensive. "Didn’t you say you already knew about it?"

"No," Salvatore snapped. "Is it the same guy? Old Man Gallo? I thought he had retired or moved south."

Felix shook his head quickly. "I couldn’t find specific information about him. But I’ll find him soon. I’m sure he’s still alive."

"He’s clearly alive. He’s making wine for the Hartleys," Salvatore said, his irritation mounting. He slammed his glass onto the desk.

Felix sensed the annoyance. "I’m sorry, Sal. I will try harder to get the information and bring him to you."

"I don’t think you’ll be bringing him to me if he’s under a Hartley now. You’ve been dragging your feet on this."

"What do you mean? Are you accusing me of siding with Hartley?" Felix’s voice rose slightly, his face flushing with a mix of anger and hurt.

"We’ll see," Salvatore said. "You know what I want. Bring that man to me as soon as possible."

He had already prepared the vineyard and cleaned the place. He was serious about restoring it, his childhood memories.

Alben looked back and forth between the two men and chuckled, trying to break the tension. "What’s gotten into you both? It’s just wine."

"It’s not just wine," Salvatore said. "It’s time. I don’t like to wait. It’s taken far too long just to locate one man. I’ve already had people cleaning the grounds. I want to start the restoration soon."

"At this rate, the Hartleys are going to hate you more than they hate the government," Alben laughed. "First you take Milo, then the building, and now you want their prize winemaker."

"I don’t care about them," Salvatore said, taking another sip.

The conversation drifted as the wine bottles were emptied. Eventually, the topic circled back to the mansion’s newest resident. Milo.

Roderick smiled, looking at Salvatore. "I don’t know what happened to him, but this week, he was really bitchy when someone tried to touch him. Unbelievable."

Salvatore’s eyebrows went up. "Is that so?"

"He was so afraid of anyone touching him," Roderick continued. "He avoids all physical contact."

"He’s a freak," Felix muttered. "What do you expect from him? He’s probably losing his mind."

Salvatore knew exactly what was happening. He had told Milo that his body belonged to him, and that he should never be naked—or touched—unless Milo wanted it.

Milo, in his typical literal fashion, had taken that to the extreme. He was defending his personal space with a vengeance.

Salvatore found it oddly impressive. It meant the boy was finally building a wall around himself.

Felix didn’t like the topic. He tried to get Salvatore’s attention.

"Sal, I brought my things," Felix said suddenly, his tone shifting. The wine had made him bolder. "I can sleep here tonight, right?"

Salvatore looked at Felix. He knew exactly what Felix was asking for. And he knew what the things he’d brought were.

"No," Salvatore said. "I’m not doing that with you. How many times do I need to tell you, Fel?"

"Why? Because of Milo?" Felix demanded, his voice trembling. "It’s nonsense! You’re obsessed with a kid who can’t even hold a gun straight!"

"You’re the one being nonsense," Salvatore growled, his patience finally snapping. "You’re getting on my nerves. My decisions have nothing to do with that boy. I told you I’m not interested in you the way you think!"

Felix felt hurt. But he didn’t give up.

"Sal, come on... let’s just try again. One night. Please?"

"No."

"I know you haven’t had anyone for three months," Felix persisted, his eyes scanning Salvatore’s face. "Your thing is going to die if you don’t use it."

Salvatore looked at Felix in disbelief. "Who told you that you could pry into my private life? It’s none of your business who I sleep with or when."

"Because I care about you!"

"No, it’s not care," Salvatore said, his voice low and dangerous. "It’s fucking annoying."

Alben put his hands over his ears, looking amused but wary. "Damn. Are you guys actually fighting? Over sex?"

Salvatore grabbed his glass and drained the rest of the wine in one gulp. He didn’t look at Felix.

Felix looked like he was about to cry or scream. He stood still, his hands shaking.

Alben smirked and looked at Felix. "Hey, look, he’s clearly not interested in you. How many times are you going to try? You want to play with me instead? I’m much more appreciative."

Felix glared at Alben. "Don’t even think about it. You’re disgusting!"

"Why? Why does everyone want to fuck Salvatore, but nobody wants me?" Alben joked, spreading his arms. "Come on, Felix, my love! You’ve never tried me. I’m a very generous lover."

"Seriously, Ben! I’m not interested in you!" Felix shouted.

"I’m not interested in you either," Alben laughed. "But I can still fuck you. Come on!"

Felix grabbed a decorative silk pillow from the sofa and threw it at Alben’s face. "Seriously! Would you fuck every man in this building?"

Alben caught the pillow and gave a naughty smile. "I’m not that cheap. I only like the cute ones. Want to try?"

"Tsk! I’m going home!" Felix shouted. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, completely forgetting about his suitcase or his plan to stay the night.

Alben’s laughter echoed in the room after the door slammed. "You’re in big trouble, Sal. Felix isn’t the type to let you live in peace. He’s going to make your life miserable until he gets what he wants."

Salvatore sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "I know. He’s starting to drive me crazy."

He looked at the empty wine bottle and thought about Old Man Gallo, the vineyard, and Milo.

He needed to talk to him tomorrow.