z e l u s

When he pulled his hands out of hers, Mila’s heart beat in fear. What was she thinking…exposing herself like this? She was mentally cursing herself and trying to figure out a way out of this when all of a sudden she felt his hands cup her face. They were rough but smooth against her cheeks and the woman couldn’t help but lean into them and close her eyes, enjoying the warmth that radiated from them. Opening her eyes Mila saw the look of determination on her husbands face and was confused for a split second before his lips met hers.  This wasn’t the first time they had kissed. They kissed for public pictures, or quick pecks on the cheeks when around friends. Drunken kisses that were stolen in the dead of night that they could be explained away in the morning light. But none were like this. Needed, messy, full of feeling that they both needed to convey. Mila didn’t realize that her arms had wrapped around his neck as his hands dropped to her waist and brought her closer. He was what she wanted and the woman wondered why it took so damn long to admit it. Pulling away, both were breathing heavily. Mila pressed her forehead to her husbands and closed her eyes trying to slow her heart rate. At this moment a bomb could go off and she probably wouldn’t even notice. The only thing she was focused on was the man standing in front of her, who just admitted in a kiss everything she wanted him to admit. 

“I love you. And i’m sorry it took this long to say it.” 

It wasn’t the easiest kept secret being terrified of this sort of thing. He’d developed feelings for someone long, long ago, even before Mila. It’d ended as fast as it was conceived, but Enzo vowed to never let his emotions get the better of him in the future. He didn’t want this thing called love. Succumb to it like some doe-eyed cretin only looking for purpose through artificial infatuation. Love wasn’t in his vocabulary. Love was a bad word and Enzo forbade himself to ever utter the word in mixed company. He didn’t date. He didn’t fraternize with emotions growing up. He was a cold, dead shell of a man whose only purpose and intention in this thing called life was to cause as much death and destruction as possible. Rake in the financial benefits and scorn his brothers for their impudence towards the family name. Lorenzo Blackshaw wasn’t a kind, loving, nurturing man. His brothers, as insane and volatile as they may’ve been (even Roman outranking him from time-to-time) never carried as many confirmed kills under their belts as Enzo had. He was the perfect soldier. Did without asking. Never fought for his own beliefs. For the right price, his beliefs were whatever the paycheque had demanded. Unholy practices that he dared not utter lest he be immediately struck down by God himself. He had a past that was well-concealed, but it had been accompanied by a false sense of security. If anyone had the ability to learn of these Cardinal Sins and suffer its wrath, it was Milena. How could he look her in the face, tell her everything was going to be alright when he had a mark on his head the moment he could walk. Death and destruction followed him everywhere and for a time, he didn’t care who stepped into the line of fire--- now there was Mila. Someone he swore to keep safe but in doing so fell deeply in love with. Now he had something to lose and he was terrified. He didn’t hesitate in hoisting her up onto her desk, leaning over her as his lips went to her neck. He wanted to yell it a thousand times. A thousand times more if it meant she’d finally know how he felt. Words were useless. This--- like the world’s most beautiful poem in which he couldn’t dare mess up the words in doing so would remove their meaning. He gripped her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, low mumbles of sweet nothings drifting like a song through the air.

It was almost like she saw 30 different emotions run across her husbands face. Sure they had told each other how the felt drinking the night away once or twice, or shared intimate moments when they had alcohol running  through their veins. But they had never been stone cold sober and admitted thing that they couldn’t just shove off in the morning. Taking his hands, Mila forced Enzo to look at her as she sucked in a deep breath. 

“Contrary to popular belief I always worry about you.” She whispered. Mila was afriad that if she spoke any louder her voice would crack. “Look I know that we haven’t exactly had the most conventional marriage, but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t developed feelings for you.” Laughing slightly she squeezed his hands as she tried to say the words she wanted. “I worry about you every day when you walk out our door because i’m afraid that i’m gong to get a call that you’re not coming back. The storm just kind of made me admit it..” 

He flinched. Less of a surprise and more along the lines of immediate guilt. He didn’t deserve her kind words. Didn’t deserve to have her gaze fixed on him like he was the hero. He didn’t deserve this. As the words tumbled out of her mouth, Enzo shrunk further into himself, icy hues fixed on his wife. Where did these feelings come from? They were business partners--- nothing more. He cared a great deal for her, but this wasn’t the professional facade they blanketed over it. This was a confession and the tears laid the foundation in his distant gaze. Like he was staring at the middle space between them. This time Lorenzo dared himself to stare back at her. Usually he’d chance a glance and then look away— look away because he didn’t want to swim in the lovely, amber pools of her eyes unless he’d been invited to— and he never waited long enough to know whether he was even wanted there; look away because he didn’t want to give anything away; look away because he couldn’t acknowledge how much she mattered. Look away because that chocolate gaze of hers always reminded him of how tall he stood and how far below him Milena remained but yet he was the one that had always been outranked. Now in the silence of the moment, he stared back, not to defy her, or to show he wasn’t shy any longer, but to surrender, to tell her this was who he was, this was who she was, and where there’s truth there were no barriers, no shifty glances, and if nothing comes of this, let it never be said that either of them were unaware of what might happen. He hadn’t a hope left. And maybe he stared back because there wasn’t a thing to lose now. He stared back with the all-knowing, I-dare-you-to-kiss-me gaze of someone who both challenges and flees with one and the same gesture. He allowed himself a moment to register her voice, the words--- those careless words. This is what their fathers wanted. Was this the plan all along? Her hand squeeze brought him back to reality and he took his palms out of hers, a look of fright and unease adorning his features before his body moved on its own. What was he so scared of? Why had Milena been the only one capable of scaring him? Why had it only been her to reach the darkest recesses in his mind and cast light over them? He could never truly resist her and this time, he wouldn’t try.

They hadn’t really spoken since the night of the storm. It wasn’t something that came out of the ordinary but for some reason Mila couldn’t stay quiet anymore. Turning towards the man, she sighed and chewed on her lip. “You worried me…” Mila said quietly. “The night of the storm, when I couldn’t find you, I thought something had happened. And that scared me.” 

It took a long while for the words to settle in. Each moment ticking by at a glacial pace, he may have aged thirty years if he didn’t remember to breathe. Milena’s safety had never been tested like the course way of nature’s had done that night. Richard was his first priority but only because he had guaranteed himself Mila’s safety. She was resilient; powerful--- an unrelenting force. It’d be stupid of him to think she wasn’t at least mostly capable. The confession had sent him down a winding road of emotional turmoil. He’d never cared about someone as much as he had Milena. Never cared for anything. Even his own family.

“Last thing you should be worried about is me, darling,” he insisted, lowering his gaze. A beat as he mustered up the courage to say it. Anything. Anything but those three words waiting on the tip of his tongue. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“You’re never interrupting.” She said quietly. Taking the tea from Enzo she smiled as she took a drink. “Yeah the heater is broken due to the storm, so we are trying to get everything back up and running.” Mila shrugged and looked out the window at the city. “You know, if you don’t look close outside, its almost like nothing happened.” 

“I’ll be sure to bring a space heater for you the next time I visit,” he insisted, moving towards her before his gaze caught the view. She was correct on that one. “Devastation’s intent is to ensure our humanity,” he atoned, gazing outwards. “Make sure we recognize our roots. All we can do is rebuild.”

Mila hadn’t slept since the flood. With the deaths and then the extra work trying to get the firm back together, she was exhausted. She tried not to think of how close she had come to losing Lorenzo and she really tried to not think about the feelings that were there. Their marriage was a business agreement, that’s all. So why was she feeling like she was scared of him dying? Sighing she ran a hand through her hair and leaned against her desk looking through a file. Hearing a knock on her office door she looked up and had a slight smile on her face. 

“Hey.”

“Am I interrupting at all?” He furrowed his brow, making his way in anyhow with two teas in hand. Tea seemed the best choice for a day like today. Coffee would only make things harder to concentrate. He set hers down across from her, taking a seat. “I could’ve brought you a sweater, love. It’s cold as death in here.”

As best as she could given the situation, Eva was trying to smile and be charming like her title would have her obligated to do. She calmed down scared kids and lead families to designated areas and even took photos with those who had no sense of bad timing – but deep down she was just as worried as everyone. The hotel wasn’t exactly up on a hill and if the flood got really bad, what was to stop in from turning into the final scenes from the Titanic? Even though she came down from her high-up apartment to avoid being alone, Eva couldn’t help but feel like she still was, almost wishing she had arms to curl up into while they comforted her, the longing making her think of her father for a moment, zoning our as she looked up at the dark clouds, not noticing the person who had stopped in front of her.

“Tragic, isn’t it?” He noted with some melancholy, icy gaze set to the same sky. This situation could’ve been worse, but he had to sympathize with some of the folk here. Looking absolutely lost. It was a significant change from the confidence most held but during these trying times, he knew not everyone was as strong as others. “Amazing how everything valuable can be wiped out in a moment of emergence--- still tragic, but amazing.”

“Well they are French, what do you expect.” She said laughing a bit. An actual laugh, not the ones that she gave for clients or out at parties. One that wasn’t seen too much anymore. Quirking an eyebrow that followed a small smile, Mila reached out and took the keys from his hand. Walking over to the door that led to the garage she opened it and realized why she couldn’t park her car in the garage. In her normal space was the car that she and Enzo had looked at a few months ago online before she went with the option that she chose. Turning around she smiled as she closed the door. 

“Well that blows my present out of the water.” Mila said walking over and putting the keys on the counter. Taking her husbands hand she squeezed it before looking up at him. “I love it, thank you. And thank you for this.” She said gesturing to the food. “This is honestly a lot better then having to go sit and be a sideshow attraction at a restaurant.” Walking over to the liquor cabinet, the brunette got out a glass along with some whiskey. Pouring it in she took a sip and looked over. “Now about that second present.” 

“I expect nothing less than what you paid for,” he averred, not letting it bother him. The bottle would be gone by that night anyway. Paris was beautiful but the people were rude and opportunistic--- mostly towards making non-native-speakers feel like the absolute worst in their company. He could easily compare it to Quebec, and although Parisians and the Quebecois didn’t exactly get along either, the hierarchy of a simple language did it’s best to offer some form of entertainment every time he brought it up while they were out. Even if the thought of their honeymoon had been pushed to the back of his head like a bad coming-of-age storyline. He remembered the flight over. Neither talked. Busy on their devices doing their own version of work. Separate beds at the hotel. Some sightseeing, and a general feeling of relaxation--- then--- nothing. Nothing at all after that. They returned and were back to work.

He took her hand, leading her upstairs to the opposite end of the house. He trusted the men working had done their job, but he kept it opposite the room just in case. Opening the door, the two bedrooms that’d been there previously were torn down, revealing one large music room Enzo had done whilst Milena was out at work. Complete with a grand piano with a box of roses on the bench in front of it, a separate door leading to a recording studio and three cases of brand new violins; opened, tuned and on display for Mila to experiment with.

“I didn’t know which colour to get you for the piano, so I chose something closer to the colour of your first gift.”

Callie had to stifle a laugh at Lorenzo’s response about Richard. If only he knew how much she agreed with him. “People die yes, but they aren’t supposed to die for no reason.” She said quietly. “I’ve killed people, it’s not a secret…but they deserved it. Never unless it was someone that the earth wouldn’t miss, they were innocent.” Shrugging she rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t surprise me honestly, i’m just over it. I’ve never fucked up, i’ve done my job and kept my head down then something happens out of my control and I’m all of a sudden the one to blame.”

“The world works in mysterious ways. I don’t agree with whoever decided to make light of this situation--- I’m only telling you that there are cruelties in the world.” He couldn’t vouch for his own actions. In the past, he’d opened fire on innocent bystanders in crowds or doing his part in firing squads halfway across the world because he was told to. Lorenzo wasn’t built for empathy or sympathy. He operated on doing what he was told, but he could sympathize with Calliope. She was only doing her job. “He’ll have someone else to blame once they find out who stole his stock,” he affirmed. “Keep your head high, Ms. Grace. You’re doing your best.”

✖  ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP — the p o w e r couple.                                            ↳  𝓛𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓏𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓜𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒶 𝓑𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓌

------ Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise I don't have a choice but I'd still choose you

Milena’s eyes went wide at his last words. “Oh no…no no no. I was supposed to get off early and such so we could celebrate.” She said rubbing her eyes. She had planned on getting off work early, they would go out to dinner then go the club he owned and have a good, normal night. Sighing, she walked over to where her briefcase was and opened it up. Taking out a large box, she walked back over to the counter and set it down. 

“I was going to give this to you over dinner tonight, however since I was working late here you go.” Mila said opening it up. He had an extensive drink glass collection that he had started before she came along. “I ordered it about two months ago from that shop we visited on our honeymoon.” The woman pulled out the drink glass that was hand carved with intricate designs that wrapped around the Bourbon  glass.

“Happy 5th Anniversary Lorenzo          Love Always, Melina”

“It’s not much, but I figured you could add to your collection.” The brunette said smiling slightly. 

Lorenzo didn’t have high hopes for their relationship. They weren’t on the best terms when they were betrothed. Sure, smiles and faux happiness for the cameras at their wedding but he recalled the awkward encounters with Mila. The first meeting. The dinners--- then there was the arguing. Like they couldn’t stand to be in the same room. Their dedication to their families proved to be the only thing keeping them together, but the longer they went on, the more friendly they got. Less inclined to wanting to kill each other at the very least. Five years and they were still tiptoeing. Milena and he were a part of each other’s lives now. For better or for worse. He accepted the bottle, a smile pulling through.

“They spelled your name wrong,” he chuckled, letting the weight of the bottle rest in his hands. “Thank you. Really. Your gift is waiting for you upstairs,” he added before the realization of the provocation of his words hit him. He digressed. “Here,” he continued, reaching into his pocket to pull out a set of keys, handing them off to her. “Your other gift is waiting in the garage.”

The woman stared at her husband for a second before taking the glass full of liquid. With all the files that she needed to go over tonight, Mila knew that she needed something a lot stronger, but it would help for now. “Congratulations? Lorenzo it’s bad enough that you’re apart of this mess..why do I need to be as well?” She asked taking a sip. Mila wasn’t a stupid woman, she knew that this could possibly create waves in the law community she was in and she would be dammed if she worked as hard as she did to have it be taken away. She leaned against the counter as her husband went back to what he was doing. 

Mila watched him as he moved and took another sip. She didn’t necessarily dislike Lorenzo. He was a good man to her and was kind, but it wasn’t a marriage of love. Only power. Power that both of their fathers had wanted and it was a familial duty to see it through, but him being involved with the gangs made it harder for her to do her job. Taking her fork and putting a bite of food into her mouth, she had to stop the groan that came out. She hadn’t eaten most of the day and she didn’t realize that she was that hungry. 

“Look..all I’m saying is the filth i’ve been working with is what gets the money, and they wont kill me if they get convicted.” 

“Richard is a good man,” he offered, sliding his own plate closer to himself in response to her digging right in. Perhaps it was better left unsaid. They weren’t close; him and Milena. Married, yes—- friendly? To some degree. It was a complicated relationship that was based on an agreement made from both sides to prosper. Not an unheard of thing in his family’s lives. The only one who had that sort of freedom had been Lucille before her passing. The boys. They owed a debt— all of the Guerra/Blackshaw men, even if they knew it or not.

“It may not seem like he’s doing it, but he’s helping. Give it some time. You’re going to learn why this will be good for the both of us,” he offered, still not touching his own food but instead offering a faint, fond smile. “You should consider it a compliment. I told him of your ventures. He expects the quality of a Blackshaw, he’s going to get it. You don’t hold much faith in yourself, dear.” He understood her reluctance. The danger of it all—- he wouldn’t have got her involved if he didn’t recognize the possible dangers—- but he knew Mila could handle herself and anything thrown her way.

“I won’t let anything terribly awful happen to you,” he teased, finally picking up his fork. Better left unsaid, but he was a traditional man. “Happy Anniversary, Milena.”

CASA, DOLCE CASA ↴

Address: 421 Blackland Rd NW, Atlanta, GA 30342

What end of the city is this in?: North end

How long of a commute is it for them to work every day from home?: About twenty minutes or less if he’s speeding

What kind of place is it?:  Single family

How long have they lived there?: Five years

Number of bedrooms?: 7

Number of bathrooms?: 13

Number of square footage?: 15,200

What kind of amenities does it have?: Wide plank walnut flooring, mahogany doors/windows, 11' ceilings, hand cut stone & limestone exterior, designer lighting by Donghia, Holly Hunt, Ann Sacks tile, cabinetry and kitchen design by Design Galleria and overall design & finishes by Stewart Mohr Designs. Energy efficient geothermal systems, whole house management & security by the latest in Crestron technology, screening room w McIntosh equipment, elevator, gym, sauna. Master on main with pool views and walk out to pool and spa. Calcutta gold marble bath with heated floors, steam shower, custom dressing room, attached garage with 9 spaces. Private guest wing with living room and patio. Outdoors, Viking kitchen poolside with fireplace. Terrace level with bar/kitchen, wine cellar, and pool.

How much do they pay per month for it?: Bought for $9,000,000

Any staff?: Private security, maids, cooks, etc.

Do they live with anyone else?: His wife, @mila-blackshaw

Any history/rumors surrounding it?: Not that he’s aware of.

Do they have pets?: Two Doberman Pinschers named Rosé and Jack.

“Enzo?” Mila yelled as she walked through the door. The blonde kicked her heels off in the foyer and dropped her suitcase with an irritated sigh. “Lorenzo I swear to god..” She said trailing off as she found him in the kitchen. Dropping the pile of files on the counter she glared at him. 

“What the hell did you get me into? Why is Richard basically giving me the cases of a lawyer he is about to have killed?” 

@lcrenzx

His focus had shifted from the tedious plating to the chime of the security system buzzing in his pocket to alert him of some intrusion. If Milena’s voice hadn’t erupted from the foyer across the house, he would’ve been hidden beneath the secret passage beneath the island, waiting to strike. Years of his profession had made him paranoid, but for good reason. His life had been targeted exactly sixteen times. He was paranoid. There was seventeen hiding spots within the mansion, most armed with guns and at least three panic rooms. If anyone had planned on breaking in, he assumed the front door would be too dead of a giveaway for it to be considered hostile. Brushing his hands off on his apron, he watched his wife walk through the swinging door, throwing her business onto the counter he’d been working on before an annoyed glare shot her way.

“Welcome home,” he sighed, moving the plate four centimetres to the left of the paperwork. The kitchen had been setup with a spatter of unscented candles lining the bar, two neatly set plates of her favourite food and a chorus of quiet jazz radiating from the surround-sound system built into the walls. If her words hadn’t caught his attention, he would’ve made a scene about the ruined dinner. Glancing her way, he drummed his fingers once against the marble countertop, absorbing the information. “So, he’s getting rid of Bellamy,” he spoke quietly, almost to himself. “You should consider it an upgrade from some of the filth you’ve been representing,” he countered, approaching with a flute of champagne, handing it off to her. “Congratulations.”