10 | Bambino's In Love

◇ KEL ◇

It took me a while, but, finally! I figured it out. I let out a sigh, white mists coming out of my nose and mouth.

The dimness only amplified my dark imagination. My skin just hated the bitingly cold horror-movie ambience of this place.

"Miles?" I wrapped my arms around myself. I peered around the grass-covered space.

To my utter confusion and horror, the paths diverged into more mazes.

"Shit." This thing didn't end!

Did anyone see me walking into this labyrinth? Anyone from the Falcos' security staff? Or one of the maids could've seen me.

Moonlight was sparse in this side of the lot. Shadowed hedges towered over me by at least four feet.

How did I even end up trapped in this creepy old maze? Ugh. I was just trying to find him.

Perhaps Miles and his older cousin were hanging out somewhere in this impressive garden. This backyard could be the size of an entire football field, if I wasn't overcalculating.

"Miles?" I called out. An old sweater covered half of my poor excuse of a nightgown. The wind tousled my hair. It kept my cold hands pressed on my neck.

Where's a flashlight when you badly needed one? Darn it! Of course I stupidly forgot my phone in the guest room.

Forcing my numbing feet to move was getting difficult. Tense legs and a hyperactive imagination. Worst combination ever. This could be the most complicated and suffocating pathway made of unnaturally tall hedges in the middle of this huge backyard.

Why did I even think he'd be out here? At this hour? Stupid.

If only I knew which one of the hundred freakin' guest rooms Miles chose to sleep in for the weekend...

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The sky stayed black and unhelpful as my breathing grew shallow. My attention flitted from one path to the next. The leftmost one looked like another long 'L'. The path on the right seemed to form a curve. I couldn't tell for sure. The lack of lighting was messing with my concentration, only giving me more unnecessary goosebumps.

Two steps backward, my arms touched another thick hedge. Leaves and stems rustled against my body. The nippy breeze, to my ears, sounded like it whistled.

Shit! Why did it have to be this cold tonight? This place just gave me major creeps.

"No need to panic."

Just breathe.

Calm down... "Oh shit." What was that?

Something nearby made loud crackling noises, like that of dry stalks being stomped on.

The hairs on my nape stood up. "Please be Miles. Please be Miles..."

Footsteps crushed twigs and shrubbery, fast approaching. The scary thing about it?

I couldn't tell if they were human or not. I smothered myself. All I could do was shut my eyes and recite prayers under my breath... Pray I wasn't about to be savaged and eaten by wild wolves out here.

Cold, trembling in fear, I sat on the dry ground, succumbing to the darkness. I protected my head with my arms and hands. My face touched my knees now. I should just keep my mouth shut and play dead. Still and lifeless.

"Mykaela, why are you out here?"

The familiar voice forced my freezing limbs to move. My chest stopped heaving when a tall figure stood before me.

A man in a wrinkled button-down. Curly bangs. Deep voice.

Ricchar.

Thank God!

"You okay?" asked Ricchar, our host.

A small nod became my only response. Ricchar standing in front of me instead of some rabid wild animal slowed my heartbeat down from a hundred miles per hour to a mildly terrified rate.

"It's late." The guy stepped closer. The cold wind disheveled his dark and wavy hair. Extending his hand for me, Ricchar helped me up until I felt steady on my feet. His breath also reeked of alcohol. Some expensive red wine, most likely.

"Sorry. I-I got lost." The wind breezed past us again. The tall hedges rustled nonstop. The goosebumps still wouldn't leave my skin.

"He's looking for you."

"Who?"

"Maxim." Ricchar held my hand, his speech slightly slurred. He led me through another path while I gripped his arm as if my life and crumbling sanity depended on it. "Why are you out here? Can't sleep?"

"I was trying to find Miles, to talk to him about something," I tried to say clearly as I could. Thank God he found me, and my claustrophobia no longer threatened to cripple me. Finally someone was walking me through this eerie, asphyxiating maze.

"In here?" Ricchar chuckled and glanced at me. Although he probably had been drinking all night, his touch felt cold to my skin. His calloused hand clasped my forearm as we trod past a dim and narrow U-shaped path.

"I don't really... I'm not sure how I got—"

"Ah. Sorry." Ricchar scratched the back of his head. "Forgot to tell the gardeners to trim the grass around the patio. They lead you straight into the other side of maze if you're not careful."

"Sorry, Charr. I was just..." My gaze darted around the path we crossed. "Being clumsy."

The moonlight didn't do enough to guide us, but Ricchar seemed to have every bit of this maze memorized. His steps were in haste, precise, almost effortless, as if he had night vision or something. He let me follow his lead when the path shrank, narrowing into a few feet in width. "Heard you from the patio." He paused, glimpsed my expression, and then grinned. "Wanted to have another chat with you, too."

"Why?"

Ricchar motioned for me to keep walking. His steps remained straightforward while mine got paused by hesitation. "It's not my place. I know, but... Sooner or later, you'll find out, anyway."

Find out what? I put on a small smile to hide my growing curiosity.

"Might as well get on with it. Right?" He faintly shrugged. "I just don't like the idea of leaving you totally in the dark."

What? In the dark... What did he mean? "Sorry. I don't... In the dark about what?"

"Maxim—" Ricchar made a face. "He tends to be that secretive and selfish when it suits his mood." He sighed, his quick legs resuming his hasty steps.

We got out of the maze before I could think of a follow-up question. "Thank you," was all I said. It was almost a sigh of relief. My heartbeat hadn't calmed down entirely, though. Especially after he guided me to the empty patio.

Opened wine bottles and used champagne glasses littered his outdoor table. "Have a seat." Ricchar let go of me and sat on a steel chair, leaving me standing speechless behind him.

Perplexed, I shook off the apprehension and eyed the chair, the one opposite his.

Where the heck's Miles?

Instead of sleeping soundly in my room, buried under the warmth of thick covers, I was out here in the middle of the night, alone with his obviously intoxicated cousin.

But I shouldn't be a rude guest. So I sat down. I should just imagine it was Miles sitting next to me. They could pass for brothers, actually. Especially the hair, the identical height, and the lean build. Somehow, looking at Ricchar's features distracted me. The mild shivers just wouldn't go away.

"Just a chat over wine." Ricchar checked the bottles on the table. "Here. Give this a sip." He poured me some of the drink.

"Thanks," I murmured. Cautiously, I picked up the glass, unable to maintain eye contact.

"You like my cousin?" Ricchar stared at me. He grinned when I didn't reply.

What did he really want to talk about?

"I think you're great for him," he said matter-of-factly. "He just doesn't want to admit it."

"Um..."

"He doesn't like being clingy, as you know. Not a hundred percent sure why. Still, I really want to know what he told you."

"Told me?" I held the wine glass to my lips, but I couldn't seem to take a single sip.

"Some important family matters, perhaps?"

"Like what?" I muttered, still trembling somewhat. I thanked Ricchar when he handed me his coat that hung onto his chair's backrest.

"Honestly, I'm not sure you'd believe it, but..." His voice sounded a bit deeper now, his playful grin totally gone. "It's best you keep an open mind."

"Um...okay." Ambiguous was definitely this guy's middle name. Just what was he getting at? I sat up and tried not to make a face.

"How long you been dating?"

"Uh..."

"A year?"

"Few months." I looked away from his unwavering gaze. Miles hadn't told me I could let the cat out of the bag, so...

"Staying here in Italy for long?" Ricchar tilted his stubbled chin.

"No."

"Ah. So, you're going back to New York soon."

"My family expects me to," was my timid reply. How was Dad doing? My attempts to contact Jill and my mother weren't fruitful, no thanks to the awful cell reception out here.

"But you won't break up with him, no?"

What? Break up with Miles? "Um..." I shifted in my seat. My white lies and petty excuses were running out. Ugh. Just the worst liar ever... Sorry, bestie.

"Fun seeing him in love." Ricchar smiled briefly. "He's just undecided as of now." The guy drank his wine. "As you noticed, his parents are glad you're getting serious. They just want some formality."

Formality. Oh, boy. If they only knew...

"Maximiliano is, erm... I'm sure by now you know he's really not the relationship type." Ricchar squinted. "He doesn't like feeling...restrained. Always been like that since we were kids."

"I noticed."

"Just always been a curious little boy. Imaginative. Must be the strict upbringing. Plus the restrictive schools. And his relationship with his Mamma and Pappa."

"I see."

"Sometimes too impulsive." Ricchar grinned to himself. "Never told me why, but, it didn't surprise me when I heard he was experimenting with, erm, you know... But that's all it was, really. It's like an innate thing for him—to test things. Figure them out for himself."

"Oh. Yeah. I-I can imagine."

"He always tries new things, like telling people to call him Miles. No one in the family calls him that." Ricchar smirked while his dark brows wrinkled. "And I think, he only kept hanging out with Niccolo 'cause he wanted to piss off Zio."

"Piss off his dad?" I frowned. "Why?"

"They don't get along." Ricchar grinned again. But it didn't look genuine. "Maybe because Zio Stefano is a perfectionist. Very ambition-driven, you know? Business-minded. And Maxim's..."

"The opposite?"

"Exactly." He nodded. Another look of amusement tilted his lips. "Let's just say, they don't have the best father-son relationship."

I reclined in my seat and stared back at him. "Really?"

"He tell you his Pappa almost beat him up?"

"What? No."

"Zio Stefano was just furious when he found out Maxim dropped out of college, started hanging out with the wrong crowd, trying this and that," Ricchar rambled on.

What did he mean by "this and that"? I squinted at him. "Drinking and stuff?"

"Sure. Drugs and all that."

"Right."

"Then he moved to Milan without his parents' consent. Moved into his friends' apartment years ago. Never called back. That was years before his parents gave him money for that house in Brichese." Ricchar sighed and got quiet when I didn't say anything. "I love Maxim like a brother. Don't get me wrong. We don't talk always, but I know he's still the same kid. Just less sad and troubled these days."

Sad and troubled...

I hunched over, the bits of his story time echoing in the back of my head.

So, he could also tell Miles was often lonely. Ricchar chuckled at my reticence. "And we owe it to you."

"Me?"

Why me? Miles was less sad now because of me? Huh? What did he really wanna say?

"Enough about the past." Ricchar's laugh widened his half-grin. "What I'm trying to say is... Maxim's enjoying life now. Thanks to you."

True as that might be, I only frowned, still unconvinced. Why exactly was he telling me these things about their family?

"You can't just leave him. Alright? Don't be away for long."

"Um..."

"Sure, he likes being alone, doing things in his own pace. But he tires of it at some point. And he's pitiful when he's lonely." Ricchar's voice turned somber. "Starts doing stupid things, becomes too distant, hangs out with the wrong people... You get the idea."

"Just not what you're getting at," I almost retorted.

"I'm sure he didn't tell you anything yet, but..." Ricchar stared at me again, his dark brows wrinkling. "Are you seriously in love with him?"

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