Deviant Prince [Romano Brotherhood, #2]

3 | Massimo

I wake to a mysterious and undefinable ache in my groin.

As I get ready for the day, finishing my unpacking and organizing my minimal belongings, the ache persists. It's a subtly bothersome throb as I make my breakfast and coffee, and it has me settling with a slight wince on the couch as I connect to the call on my computer.

"What's that face for?" Adamo chuckles. Although I've explained to him numerous times that I don't need to see every pore on his face, he remains incapable of sitting an appropriate distance away from his camera. "Is your new place that bad?"

I refrain from telling him that I woke up feeling like someone kicked me in the balls. Hard.

"The place is fine." I watch Adamo's eyes narrow nosily on my background. Of course, I've thought ahead and situated myself so the only thing behind me is a blank wall. "You're not going to be able to figure it out."

"As your therapist, I find it worrisome that you've abruptly left your home and family and seem to be running away from your problems."

"Let's not fool ourselves into thinking you're my therapist."

A grin spreads across his face, glinting at me from behind a beard as white as snow. "Massimo. You flatter me. Am I your friend then?" He pauses. "Would that make me your only friend?"

"You know that wasn't what I meant." I shift again. My groin gives a slight protesting twinge, and I have half a mind to check the security cameras I've set up in every room to see if something fell on me in my sleep.

"We'll return to the topic of our longstanding friendship later," Adamo assures me, the humor disappearing from his face. "Right now, why don't you tell me what exactly you feel you need to run away from?"

"Adamo."

He smiles sheepishly at my warning. He knows I dislike it when he takes on his therapist voice with me. While that may be the role he's played in my life over the years with the calls we have every other week, there's a level of familiarity between us that necessitates a more familiar tone to our conversations.

I am forever indebted to him and his wife for what they did all those years ago. Taking us in. Giving me and my brothers a place to rest, a safe house, for a brief time while we got back on our feet. And that's just the beginning of it.

If it weren't for Adamo Mezzasalma, I would be dead. And so would my brothers. Our remains would be strewn across the streets that now encompass my empire, long forgotten. Long gone.

"Is it because of your father? Are you still looking for him?"

My jaw tightens, the words creaking past my lips. "No. Not anymore. He's made enough enemies. He'll be dead within the month and I won't even need to lift a finger."

Coward. Coward. Coward. Can't even kill him now, after everything that's happened.

"And as I said, I'm not running away. I'm removing myself from an unfavorable situation."

"What about the situation necessitates your absence?"

Damn him and his questions. He thinks getting me to verbalize things will lead to some sort of revelation. Instead, I'm forced to relive some of the worst moments my family has ever experienced.

"Aside from Santo's kidnapping and near death, my father reappearing for the first time in two decades, and Nico dying?"

"That didn't answer my question," he says. "You have family left, Massimo. Your brothers want to be there for you. Don't keep pushing them away."