Deviant Prince [Romano Brotherhood, #2]

21 | Vivienne

Sitting in a private jet Massimo owns, it dawns on me just how rich he is.

Obviously I had assumed—but the man occupies a one-bedroom in a quaint little Mom-and-Pop town. His luxury sports car, designer watch, and bespoke suits do betray his wealth, but only if you pay attention. Massimo doesn't flaunt anything about himself.

I have no clue what we're doing in Chicago, and my travel partner clearly has no intention of letting me know. He seems to be in a particularly nonverbal mood at the moment. Which is fine, considering he knows that I'm not backing down from this little game he's started between us.

He could be taking me to the dessert to kill me and by principle, I wouldn't give a shit.

I meant it when I said I'd be involved in this mess, and Massimo knows it. I've been harping on it at every turn, and he's well aware I'd die on this hill because I'd die on any hill when proving him wrong is involved.

And the man looks smug about it. Don't ask me how. Physically, he looks the exact same as he always does. But I just know there's an infuriating amount of smugness simmering beneath that annoyingly perfect façade.

"Mr. Romano, can I interest you in any beverages?" The flight attendant sidles up, her cheeks reddening as she waits for his reply. And it's not a 'he's hot and I'm nervous' blush. It's a 'I'm horny and I want to fuck him' blush.

"Just two waters for now," he says, and she practically melts at the smooth burnish of his voice.

I'm silently agreeing with her appreciation, because same, until I see it beginning to make Massimo uncomfortable. She stands there, practically breathing on the side of his face, while he seems focused on mustering up the breath to dismiss her.

"Could I actually get a Red Bull? Do you guys have that?"

At my request, she visibly startles. As if she hadn't even noticed my presence. And okay, now I'm annoyed. At her reluctant nod, I grace her with an overly friendly smile. "Thanks so much. That'll be all."

Massimo shifts to me. "You drink those?"

A thrill of satisfaction prickles my skin when the flight attendant looks irritated at the fact that his whole body has turned in my direction. She has no choice but to leave.

"When people drag me onto red-eye flights with an hour's notice, absolutely. I can't sleep on planes."

He looks troubled by this. I begin to get comfortable, rooting through my bag for the book I packed. It's a new romance novel I'm trying out, and I was just getting to the smutty part.

Massimo's stare hasn't stopped burning the side of my face.

"Those are filled with chemicals, Vivienne."

"That must be why they're so yummy. Hey—what's this?" Frowning, I pull out a container that I definitely didn't pack. It's... my cookies. All three batches packed away, even with a paper towel on top to preserve the moisture. "You... packed these?"

Massimo pulls out his laptop, and I almost have a stroke when he slips on those damn glasses.

And so does the flight attendant, who has just returned with my drink. If she looked like she wanted to fuck him before, her expression is borderline pornographic now.

Okay girl, we get it. He's hot. Keep it moving. 

Seeing Massimo in his glasses feels like somewhat of an intimate experience. He only seems to wear them when he's relatively settled and zoning in on his work. Not so much letting his guard down, but getting comfortable. Being... himself. It's stupid to get all that from glasses. But I do, and now this bitch is pissing me off because I don't want her to see him like this.