There comes a time in every woman's life when, for better or worse, she will be forced to wonder... was my mother right?

I personally believe that mothers are always right—in something. At least once. Often in the one thing we wish they wouldn't be. 

And as I invite a member of the Italian mafia—whose sanity could definitely be called into question and who has consequently tried to end my life at least a couple times—into an enclosed space to spend the afternoon with me, it isn't lost on me that maybe my mother had a fucking point.

Maybe I seek out chaotic situations just for the fuck of it, because it's exactly what everybody expects from someone like me anyway. Maybe I just like to be contrarian. 

Oh well. 

Whatever it is, it's fucking fun. 

Sometimes I'm not sure Massimo is really all there. He'll stare like he's not seeing anything, eyes void. Blank. He's so overwhelming—all hardness and clean lines in those Brioni suits—that you wouldn't notice. But if you can look past the taut restraint and the deceivingly calm exterior, there's something else there. Something big and dormant. 

And I don't mean his tendency to go berserk, kind of almost kill me, and then act like nothing has fucking happened. 

He's harsh and callous—but not like he enjoys it. He's the biggest control freak I've ever met, but not because he likes to be that way. Fuck, I may be insane for thinking I can even begin to understand, but there's so much more to Massimo Romano. And I'm addicted to figuring it out. 

Massimo ducks his head so it doesn't hit the bell as he follows me in. He stands so out of place in the small, drab office, but still so commanding. An unexpected shiver runs down my spine at the way the straight lines of his suit blend with the rigid cut of his jaw, combining with that cold gaze to make him perhaps the most alluring man I have ever seen. 

A man in the waiting room yanks on his corgi's leash as it begins yapping and snarling at Massimo, whose face sours in disdain at the racket. 

I hide a smile. Something about the towering, immovable man makes him deliciously fun to mess with. He just makes it so easy.

As I check in, I'm overly aware of his presence behind me even though he makes sure to leave ample distance between us. Knowing he's there like a silent shadow and feeling the weight of that inscrutable stare has every inch of my skin heating.

The receptionist takes Nik back with her, leaving me and Massimo in the crowded waiting room. It's just a standard checkup, which doesn't take too long, but I've made sure to specify the concerns I have—and that should make this visit a little longer than usual.

We move to sit down right as the man with the corgi who hates Massimo—or the Italian mafia—is standing up. He leans down to untangle his pet's leash, backing up obliviously. Massimo goes rigid as a plank as the man's ass brushes his thigh, but he does nothing to distance himself or even tell the guy to move. 

Just stands there as if he's content to silently suffer. 

"Excuse us," I push in with a hand on the man's shoulder, gently creating space for Massimo. The stranger mumbles several apologies, and once he's gone, I notice the tension clinging to Massimo's body gradually loosen. 

I avoid looking at him as we sit. I have no idea why I did that.

The words I've been rehearsing since my realization at my parents' dinner table are right at the tip of my tongue. If I want to confront him, I should probably do it in a place like this. Public. Crowded with witnesses. I can't have too much fun submerging myself in all of Massimo's mystery and intrigue. I need to know what he's really doing here, why he chose Rhinebeck, and what kind of shady shit he's trying to do in my town.

There's no way a man like him moves to a town like this without an agenda. 

I also definitely want to know how high ranking this motherfucker is.

But I hesitate. Confrontation is my method of solving issues, but not Massimo's. If I want answers, I'll have to play his game.

Only a little bit. He's still not calling the shots.

"Did Nik really tear up your place that bad?"

Massimo tenses at the reminder. "Yes. He destroys everything he touches."

"That seems just a touch dramatic."

"I mean it. Make sure he doesn't escape again," Massimo says, "or I will put that cat down."

Even I have to acknowledge how serious he sounds. A woman sitting nearby pales, clutching her own cat closer to her chest.

"Shh. You can't say that here," I hiss, lowering my voice.

His brows knit as he gives me his signature deadpan look. "If there's anywhere I can talk about euthanizing animals, it would be an animal hospital, Vivienne."

At that moment, the vet appears with Nik. In a town this size, he runs the only animal hospital, meaning that he's always completely booked. I don't think I've ever had a conversation with him where we haven't been rushed. And that's why I'm such a frequent customer, much to his annoyance. If I don't get the answers I know I deserve, I keep coming back.

"Here you are, Miss Lee," he doesn't meet my eyes, passing over the carrier, "I went ahead and called in another prescription for his skin condition. This cold, dry weather is just irritating it. Have a good day."

"What about the concerns I specified? He's been on this medication for months and hasn't improved. I wanted to talk to you about alternative medications."

The vet checks his watch. "Honestly, these things just happen. We would have to run more tests. As you know, Nik is an older cat. Just keep him hydrated, and I'll see you again in—"

"It just seems like if there's no improvement, we should either be switching to another medication or exploring other treatment," I interrupt. "If the meds aren't working, then what's the point in me continuing to buy them?"

Massimo appears next to me, and I tense. I don't want him getting involved in this.

"We can talk about that next time, perhaps," the vet says behind a barely contained veil of irritation. This guy really is a dick. "Now, excuse... m-me," he falters, caught off guard as Massimo steps in front of his path.

I simmer in sudden annoyance. The hell is his game? Stubbornly, I'm bent on getting this guy to listen me. Ideally without another man stepping in with intimidation tactics to make my concerns valid. 

But Massimo doesn't say a word. He just blinks down at the vet with a stubbornly oblivious expression on his face. When awkward silence reigns, he turns to me with a cocked brow. Okay, unexpected. Amusement and something else make my chest go fucking hot. Massimo continues to act unaware, and the vet could technically leave now, but instead he looks at me. Bewildered and slightly nervous.

"As I was saying," I quickly recover, "I'd like to talk about our options."

Massimo's eyes flash imperceptibly when the vet turns back to him. Observing him through another person's lens, I can admit how intimidating he is. Void and dangerous. "What? I know nothing about her options. I have never owned a cat."

"And thank fuck for that," I smile, capturing the vet's attention once again. I almost feel bad for the whiplash we're giving him. "Anyway, this shouldn't take too long..."

Twenty minutes later, I climb into my car with a new prescription for Nik, two different kinds of skin cream that I managed to get for free, and a smile on my face.

I actually feel unusually light for coming off a weekend with my family. Typically, I'm weighed down for a few days as I digest the irritation they always manage to instill in me. No matter how old I get.

My smile only expands when Massimo climbs into the passenger seat, subtly struggling to fit his long legs and broad shoulders in the tight space.

What a strange afternoon.

On the way home, I stop at a fast-food drive-thru just to see his lips pinch and his eyes narrow in silent distaste. He eyes my food in blatant judgment, as if he's never eaten anything fried in his life. And looking at him—the taut thickness of his thighs and the narrow trim of his waist—I can see he probably hasn't.

My mouth waters and I don't think it's because of my french fries.

Wow. Be normal, Viv. Maybe don't get turned on by the criminal in your front seat.

It's not like he'd ever feel anything like that for me anyway, which makes my feelings all the more pathetic. I could successfully prove he's not as stone cold as he likes people to think, but that doesn't mean the man is sexually attracted to me. He's sufficiently showed me that I'm actually not his type. 

I clear my throat and shove down the feelings. Trying not to notice his soft breaths or the stretch of those expensive clothes over the broad planes of his body. And definitely not the sharp point of his jaw, the strong, straight slope of his nose, and the perfect thickness of his lips. Like he's been fucking carved from stone to perfection.

Confirmed: there is something wrong with me. 

Massimo is so well disciplined, every piece of him construed in the most perfect rendering of exactly what he wants to look like, that there's an undeniable pleasure in messing that up. Causing little ripples in the pond.

It's like watching him become a little more human right before my eyes. I just need to make sure that in the process of messing with him, I don't let him mess with me. 

♛

When I get to my floor, I'm greeted with a chaotic fucking mess.

Men trudge in and out of my apartment, some of them carrying what appear to be charred pieces of... something. Is that my oven?

"What the hell is going on?"

At my panicked question directed to nobody in particular, Amir pops out from the crowd of people, looking frazzled and stressed.

"Explosion, Miss Vivienne," he pants. He barks out an order at somebody carrying what is definitely a chunk of my oven. Oh God.

"What exploded? How?"

Amir gently pushes me back as I try to go to my front door. He's sweating and nervous, which may also have something to do with Massimo's looming presence at my side. "It seems... somebody left the stove on. N-not that I would accuse you, Miss Vivienne," he hurries to add. "But..."

"Oh my God." Panic blurs my mind, and along with it the fact that I know I didn't leave that oven on. "Did anybody get hurt?"

"No," Amir sighs tremulously. "And no damage to anybody else's apartments, since you live at the end of the hallway. Only to your kitchen. The wall is now... a big hole. It will take weeks to fix, re-wire everything. You'll have to stay somewhere else, Miss Vivienne." He whimpers out some curse in Arabic and I gape as more people file in and out of my home.

I desperately want to go see if my belongings were ruined, what I can salvage, if the small teapot my Teta got me from Cairo still sits on its kitchen shelf unharmed. But it's clear that's impossible, at least until they finish clearing the wreckage out, and Amir already looks like he's on the verge of a cardiac event.

"Okay. Fuck. Okay. So... how long should I be gone?"

"At least two weeks," Amir says, and I deflate. "It would be best if you stay somewhere nearby."

I sigh, pulling out my phone to start looking at hotels. "Yeah, I'll just get a hotel."

I can't afford a hotel. Not for that long. And I could stay with Shiv and Tori, but they already have limited space and busy lives. 

They're in grad school. I'm... not. I spend my days doing fuck all while they study and write papers longer than any book I've probably read. This isn't their problem. So hotel it is. 

I look down at Nik in his carrier, my shoulders slumped in defeat. It had actually been a surprisingly pleasant day up until this mess. I realize suddenly that Massimo is gone; he must've slipped back into his apartment, put off by all the people bustling around.

"Can I go in there to get a few things for my cat? And then I'll be out of your hair."

A mere twenty minutes later, I've packed a small bag of necessities and endured many glares from grumpy maintenance workers whose day has now been ruined by the idiot who forgot to turn off her stove.

I'm not about to go banging down Mrs. Chambers' door, even though I know it was her. I should've noticed it anyway, but I was distracted by a certain someone. It's just as much my fault.

Now, I'm temporarily homeless. And trying not to think about who will be paying for all of this.

The hotel I booked is sparing every fucking expense. It's the cheapest one I could find, which certainly shows. The bed creaks like a rusty hinge when I sit down and the sheets feel like paper. It happens to be right across the street from my work, at least. That's a plus, right?

I begin to unpack my things, determined not to let this get to me.

This is fine. I'll figure it out. There are definitely no bedbugs in these sheets. This is like a little vacation.

I repeat that to myself for the entirety of my thirty-minute-long steaming hot shower, during which I spot a cockroach and two spiders on the bathroom tiles. There are a few moments where I swear I hear some sort of banging, but it sounds like it's from across the hall. 

I'm dressed and heavily considering sleeping in a trash bag when there's a sudden abrasive pounding on the door.

Fuck. I'm going to die.

I don't know why I expect it to be Massimo, but I feel disgust at myself for even accidentally having such a thought. Especially when I see through the peephole that it's just a random fucking guy.

He doesn't knock again so I figure he just realized he had the wrong room. I continue to unpack my things, eventually deciding to venture out and look for some ice. They must have that, at least.

I clutch onto my ice bucket as I wander my floor in vain. Seems I spoke too soon. It's fine. I didn't want ice anyway. Turning the corner, my heart stops when I run into a tall, dark figure.

He reaches out to grab me, and I immediately notice that it's the same man who was knocking at my door. He was waiting for me to come out.

Oh, hell no.

I swing the ice bucket and it gives a mighty clang as it makes contact with his temple. He shouts, wrenching my shoulder, and I scream as I hit his other temple. Clang. Then I fucking run.

But he's fast. And I'm wearing slippers because I wasn't prepared to run for my fucking life today. So he grabs me, banding thick forearms around my waist. His grunts of displeasure vibrate his chest as I kick and flail, jabbing my elbows into his gut and making as much noise as possible.

But it's useless. Nobody even cracks open a door. Just my luck, I'm probably the only person staying at this godforsaken hotel. Nobody hears me.

He drags me back into my room and sets me down, slamming the door behind us. I back up from him as far and as quickly as possible, scanning my immediate vicinity for anything I can use as a weapon. My shoulder aches and my heart is practically beating out of my chest. 

Okay, so fighting back was dumb. He looks to be several years older than me and he's fucking huge. Especially as he crosses his arms, daring me with a glare to try anything else.

Nothing about this man is familiar... except the unhinged lack of regard for human life that I can practically smell emanating from him. He's mafia. I fucking know it. 

"Pack your shit. Now."

"What the fuck do you want from me?"

What the hell is this? A kidnapper who lets me bring my belongings with me?

He pulls a gun from his waistband. "Pack. Your. Shit."

I obey, hands trembling in rage and blinding panic. This is most certainly tied to Massimo. The dismembered limbs and whatever else has been going on, whoever is after him... and now the damn mafia is after me. All because of that bastard next door. 

I'll kill him if I survive this.

I know what they say about being kidnapped. That if you let yourself be taken to a second location, you're basically fucked. But there's nobody around to stop him, much less hear me screaming my voice raw, as the man takes me out a back entrance to a waiting SUV in an abandoned section of the parking garage.

Due to all my struggling, my head smacks the top of the car as he wrestles me inside. My world spins out of focus for a moment and I sag helplessly into my seat, clutching onto Nik's carrier as I come to terms with the fact that this could very much be it for me.

My phone was already confiscated, and I glare at my kidnapper as he climbs casually into the driver's seat, placing it on the dashboard as if to taunt me.

"My name is Vivienne Lee, by the way," I say. I know for a fact I've done nothing to warrant this. I mean, I'm not somebody who has any enemies. At this point, there's nothing left to lose. "In case you've got the wrong girl. It's not too late to just drop me off somewhere. Did you get that? That's V-I-V-I-E-N—"

"Shut the fuck up," he growls. 

"I have a boyfriend who's waiting for me to meet him for dinner. He's going to know something's wrong."

The man takes a deep, calming breath.

"I—"

"Be quiet or I'll silence you myself," he snaps. "I know who you are and I know you don't have a boyfriend. But I didn't know you were this damn annoying."

Offended, I'm at a loss for words for a few moments. Nik has been cowering in the corner of his carrier and I try to soothe him as best I can.

"Jesus, what the fuck is that smell?" the man chokes, cracking a window.

I smirk. "You stressed out my cat, you dick."

I'm considering letting Nik out of his confinement so that he can spread his shit all over the car, but sudden confusion stops me. We're pulling up to my apartment complex.

What in the ever-loving fuck.

I yank my arm from the brute's grip as he pulls me from the car, gathering all my bags and hugging them to me in complete confusion.

"Come on," my kidnapper sighs, "and hurry the fuck up. Don't even think about screaming for help, by the way." At that, he stalks off as if he's too tired and unbothered to threaten me any further. I swear I hear him muttering something that sounds like "waste of my fucking time" as he goes. 

Bewildered to an extent that probably reaches world records, I follow him to the elevator. He presses the button to my floor. We arrive in no time, and he drags me along. Down the hallway. Past my door.

To Massimo's.

My bastard fucking neighbor answers at the man's first knock. His vacant eyes flit between me and my kidnapper, settling on me and assessing my face. That muscle in his jaw bunches and flutters.

"What happened to her?" He doesn't look away from me as he utters the words in a low, dangerous tone.

"She's fucking difficult, boss. I knocked for practically an hour. I didn't realize this would take me the entire afternoon."

Boss?

Yeah. I'm definitely killing him.

"I was in the shower, you ugly fuck," I spit. Now that I think about it, that noise I thought I heard was definitely him. "And I wouldn't have let you in anyway. What kind of woman do you think lets a strange fucking man into her hotel room?"

He lets his eyes trail over my face and down, down, down. Smirking. "A woman like you, for sure."

Massimo snaps his fingers, drawing our attention back to him, and I'm about to kill them both. His voice is still soft but there's an eerie stillness to his face that wasn't there before as he addresses his little lackey. "What were my orders."

The man shifts on his feet. "You said to go get her, boss. To bring her straight to you."

Massimo's cold eyes rest on my forehead again, where I can feel the skin throbbing. His mask cracks and I almost stumble back from the undiluted fury I see. 

"And did I say to leave a bruise on her skin?"

The man balks, suddenly confused. Clearly sensing that this little mission of his didn't go as smoothly as he thought. And he turns his tremulous gaze to me. As if I know the answer.

I widen my eyes at him in annoyed helplessness. "I don't fucking know, dude."

"Uh... with all due respect, boss," the fucker gulps, becoming terrified right before my eyes, "how is this woman any different from the others? I did what you usually have me do. You didn't say to be gentle. You said—"

"I said," Massimo overpowers his rambling, "to bring her to me. Not to do that." He tilts his chin towards the bruise. "You disobeyed my orders."

"I'm just gonna..." I mutter, gathering my things as quickly as I can. "You guys don't look like you need me anymore. I'll just—"

"Please," the man whispers. He hasn't moved an inch. 

"Vivienne," Massimo says.

"Fuck. Please," the man continues to beg. For what?

"Vivienne," Massimo says with more urgency. I tear my gaze away from the previously fearless man who now looks like he's about to piss himself, and—oh. Massimo's stare is hot and intense, drilling into my face. "Come here."

At this point, I'm so beyond confused that I actually obey him. Dragging my cat and my bags behind me. The second I pass the doorframe, Massimo reaches behind him. I don't even have time to register that he's holding a gun before he fits something on it—a silencer—and points it at the man's chest.