Deviant Prince [Romano Brotherhood, #2]

14 | Massimo

"You have my cat!" Vivienne cries, reaching for the animal in my arms. Relief and joy shine on her face and it nearly stuns me for a moment. She's never looked at me with anything besides a mixture of contempt and annoyance.

"You stole my fucking cat?"

Ah, there it is.

For a reason I have yet to decipher, I twist so she can't grab the cat from me. Her jaw drops in indignation and her eyes blaze. 

"Viv, can we talk?" David chooses this moment to begin to make his case, and I shrink away from the feeling of him at my back. The cat twists in my hold, growing aware of all the people surrounding us, and begins hissing in the general direction of her ex.

I feel a zing of satisfaction.

"Why are you here?" Vivienne's face goes cold as she looks at David.

My satisfaction dissolves.

In this moment, I only know that I do not like her looking at him. I find I don't even enjoy the fact that she's clearly frustrated by his presence. That a man like David has elicited any kind of reaction from her—especially a negative one—feels universally wrong somehow. 

"Are you aware that old woman has been using your kitchen?"

Her hair whips against her cheek as she turns to me in shock. And I could almost express a similar feeling. Because there is no rational reason I would willingly interject myself into this situation.

Although I did stop taking my sleeping pills, it takes several days for a medication to completely leave your system. Not to mention the added effect of the brain fog that has come upon me more intensely recently due to my lack of sleep. Insomnia is a vicious cycle I can't recall ever being free of.

So, there really are several plausible reasons for my behavior.

I keep telling myself that as Vivienne looks at me as if I started speaking another language. 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You may want to check that the oven hasn't been left on."

That woman looked old enough to be forgetting things. Like leaving ovens or even faucets on.

"Miss Vivienne," the landlord whispers, "are these men bothering you?" He looks at her with open affection, like he'd do anything she asked. It's the same way her patrons at Pulse look at her. What sort of spell does she go around casting on people?

And why do those people oftentimes seem to be men?

"Viv..." David, forever dedicated to his dramatics, gives a monstrous sigh that I feel on the back of my neck. "I desperately need a few minutes of your time—"

"What you need is to back up before I put you in the ground," I interrupt, making sure he can see on my face how literally I mean it. His eyes bulge as he backs up. My shoulders relax infinitesimally, but I'm suddenly aware of all the bodies around me in a new way. Like the breath from their lips and the heat from their skin is a tangible thing, and it's red-hot and it's burning me.

"Oh my God," Vivienne mutters to herself. "David, I honestly don't want to speak to you. Just—"

"Viv," he gives a patronizing half laugh. I hear a squeak from my chest and look down to see the cat glaring at me. I loosen my hold. "I really just want—"

"No," she snaps. "I'm not interested. You came uninvited to my house, so this is about what I want. And that is for you to leave."

She turns away from him, done. David's face reddens at her dismissal, and he glowers at all of us before trudging down the hallway. Next, she directs a megawatt smile at the landlord. "Amir, thank you for your help. I'll see you tomorrow? I'm trying a new recipe tonight so I'll bring some goodies down."