24 | Vivienne

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Peeking into my apartment, I'm not sure what I'm expecting, but what I see makes my jaw drop. I have no knowledge of how replacing an oven typically goes, but I'm almost certain it doesn't involve tearing up most of the walls and even part of the floor. The project seems to be well-managed; my furniture is safely covered in large plastic sheets, but I'm furious.

How long am I expected to just shack up with Massimo? There's an undeniable allure to figuring him out. He's managed to impress himself into parts of me nobody else has accessed yet. Not to mention, he's weirdly good at bringing me to orgasm. But none of that means we should live together. 

Two weeks, I was okay with. But now it doesn't look like my home will be livable for at least another month.

"Massimo fucking Romano!" I shout, pushing into his apartment after retrieving Nik. The bugger is nestled against me in an odd display of affection. Seems the day and a half he spent with Mrs. Chambers and her army of chihuahuas showed him to be grateful for once in his spoiled, ungrateful life.

Everything is empty and silent. I tromp around until I find Massimo in his bedroom, unpacking everything from Chicago into neat stacks on his bed. Because of course he's one of those people who unpacks the moment he returns from a trip.

"Rest assured, Vivienne Lee," he says without looking up, "that while you are the one person allowed to speak to me that way, my patience still has its limits."

Nik perks up when he hears Massimo's voice, and I scowl. "You rest assured that you've already reached the end of mine, because I just went to check on my apartment and things are looking a lot worse than when your workers started!" He freezes for a second before continuing his dutiful folding, and I clock the movement suspiciously. "I want Amir's guys back on the job."

He stops to straighten his already straight collar. Aha. He's more bothered than he's letting on. "My men will be finishing the task."

"Huh. I didn't realize the mafia specialized in construction."

"Not everybody who works for me is part of the organization, Vivienne." He says it in a 'don't be ridiculous' tone. "They're good workers who run a legitimate business." Legitimate except for where they provide you services in exchange for protection, I silently add. "The improper installation of your oven did not impress confidence in me about the state of everything else. I had them do a full inspection."

"For what?"

"Mold and other health hazards." He stops. Well? Studiously ignoring my expectant look, Massimo fiddles with his collar again. "Everything was up to code after all."

Great. So my walls and floors aren't even missing for a reason

"And you didn't think to run this by me... because?"

Massimo finally looks at me, and his lips pinch when he notices I'm holding Nik. "I was hoping you had forgotten about that."

That is what he calls Nik.

I make a silent vow to poison the next thing I bake for him. Or maybe just sprinkle in some laxatives.

Massimo slips by me without another word. I follow behind him like a rebellious toddler, stewing silently.

By the time we got back to Rhinebeck, I'd started feeling sick again. Specifically like there was a concrete wedge stuck in my stomach, its rough edges scraping my insides with each breath. That combined with my elevated emotions the last couple days made me check my health app. With everything going on, I'd completely lost track of my cycle.

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