Deviant Prince [Romano Brotherhood, #2]

20 | Vivienne

Massimo hasn't touched me since he made me eggs in his kitchen.

Not that I thought he'd be all over me. Obviously, the man has issues with physical touch. But that kiss... for a good few moments last night, I'd been convinced he wanted to do it again. His desire was nearly tangible, but then he just shut it off.

He may be able to do that, but I can't.

So, in a completely unrelated turn of events, I'm a bit of a storm cloud today.

I wake before noon to Massimo buried in work on the couch. It's clear he hasn't slept a wink, yet he still appears refreshed. His hair is damp from a recent shower, unstyled for once, and it makes him look younger. A little softer. He even dares to look relaxed in a mocha colored ribbed knit jumper—but that's not the worst part.

He's wearing glasses. It nearly gives me a heart attack.

Because the thing is, I've been with many men who have worn glasses and thought nothing of it. Reading glasses, blue light glasses, those stupid fake ones for fashion. All fucking kinds of glasses! But none of them looked that... sexy. They rest almost delicately on Massimo's face, making him appear composed and aloof. Reserved.

But I know for a fact he isn't. Not when he kisses me with his entire body. Not when I catch him looking at me with a desperate twinge pulling on his hard features, like he's begging me to read his mind and give him some unknown thing he wants. 

But he's not looking at me like that now. In fact, the fucker is hardly looking at me at all. So to distract myself, I get to setting out some of my things. I refuse to completely unpack my life since I'll only be here a short time, but I can reluctantly admit that Massimo's space already looks more normal when I'm finished. Like it's actually lived in.

Then it's time to feed Nik. Still, Massimo is a silent statue. Still, he's dedicated himself to not breathing in my direction. I take a scoop of dry food and turn it upside down, letting it scatter all over the floor. Pellets go every which way. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Massimo's head whip in my direction.

Silence persists, only interrupted by Nik's faint crunching. Eventually, Massimo clears his throat.

"Was there a purpose to that?"

I sneak him a glance, growing amused at his rigid posture. "Yes, there absolutely was." Taking my time shutting Nik's food container, I align it just right on the counter.

"Vivienne..." Frustrated now, his voice carries a bit of a strain, and I can't help my satisfaction at the indication that he's bothered.

Makes fucking two of us.

"I scatter his food so he doesn't eat too fast and barf under the couch."

Massimo slowly closes his computer to take in what I've just said. "You can buy a slow feeder instead of throwing it all over my floors."

I bite back a smile. Looks like someone knows a thing or two about cats, despite attempting to appear uninterested.

"I prefer this method. It gives him exercise."

I swear I can see a vein in his neck pulse from all the way across the room, but unfortunately for me, Massimo manages to push down his irritation this time. The food really did go everywhere and it must be nearly impossible for him to ignore a mess of this caliber, but he does it anyway.

As Nik feasts, I stew silently in the corner of the kitchen. Even when he uses his litter box and produces a stink that overtakes the entire room, Massimo doesn't look up once. Just types away with those stupid fucking glasses perched snugly on his stupidly perfect fucking nose. Eventually, Nik slinks over and cuddles up against Massimo's thigh.