Massimo's features are like ice. He doesn't speak, but there are about a hundred things scratching at the icy barrier between me and whatever's in his head. It's like when a river's frozen over, and you can squint through the thick slab of ice at the murky shapes of life existing beyond the impenetrable cold.

The life is there, you just need to look. And you can't mind the cold. 

Jealousy, frustration, annoyance—the man feels them, albeit not like the rest of us. But I don't have time to chip away at the ice block right now. 

We're facing an actual crisis. Which is not that Bryan and Massimo are breathing the same air—although that takes a close fucking second.

"Your apartment. Have you been in there?" I push past him, powering down the hallway. I hear both men following me. "There was someone in there. I didn't get a good look. All I saw was the material of their shirt. It was... shit, brightly colored and had some sort of pattern? Fuck. That's nothing to go off of!" Frustrated at myself, I quicken my pace. "I chased them but they got away." Changing my mind on a dime, I whirl on Massimo. "Where the hell were you?"

He doesn't answer immediately, his eyes shadowed and dark. I wait, noting the exhausted, careful lean to his body. It almost looks like I could knock him down with one shove.

"I needed to stretch my legs. Not good to be locked up for so long."

"Well while you were getting your steps in, someone broke into your apartment and probably left... something in there," I finish lamely, remembering we're not alone. 

Shit. Bryan.

My almost-hook up awkwardly clears his throat, and I force myself to take a deep breath and give him my attention. "Fuck. Sorry. I have to..." I trail off, hating myself for the look on his face. Understanding. If he were an asshole about this, I'd feel a whole lot better. "I need to deal with this, Bryan."

His eye contact is weirdly intense as I lead him several feet away. "Are you okay, Vivienne?"

"Yes, I'm totally fine. I just need to deal with... that. Him. He's going through something right now." 

We both look to Massimo, and Bryan's breath catches when he realizes Massimo is staring right at him. It wouldn't be so off-putting if he blinked every once in a while. But he doesn't even seem to breathe, and there's an inhuman sickliness in the whiteness of his face, the redness around his eyes, the glassiness of his pupils. 

Put simply, Massimo looks like a fucking skeleton. My mind reels for an excuse that will send Bryan on his way.

"I would love to believe you but instead I'm wondering if I need to call the police," Bryan says out of the side of his mouth. "Blink if you need help."

I widen my eyes. "I don't need you to—of course I'm going to blink now!"

He reaches for his phone, and I know that if he dials, he'll die. I learned my lesson on the uselessness of law enforcement when it comes to Massimo. Something I obviously can't explain to Bryan.

"I'm fine. I promise." I grab Bryan's hand, carefully removing it from the vicinity of his phone. "He's—well, I didn't want to tell you this, but a pair of hikers found him in the wilderness two and a half years ago. He was raised by wild bears so he hasn't really been socialized. He's currently part of a program that works on integrating low-IQ people into society."

Massimo's stare has now shifted to me, and I see the moment Bryan realizes this is way too much effort for a one night stand. He can't quite walk away fast enough, and I finally relax once he disappears around the corner. 

"And Bryan lives to see another day," I mutter under my breath.

"I found out where he lives and sent one of my men to plant an improvised explosive device under his bed."

I actually have to grip onto the wall for support as all the air escapes my lungs.

After several moments, Massimo's lips tighten in disappointment. "I was hoping that would make me feel better. It didn't."

I feel like I'm about to throw up. "Mass—"

"I didn't do it," he says. "Because of that look on your face. But I wanted to. I was hoping if I said it out loud, I'd realize the futility of doing such a thing. Unfortunately, all I currently feel is regret."

"The futility of doing such a thing lies in the way you would never fucking see or hear from me again," I say calmly. 

"I suppose it does," he admits after a few moments, eyes hollow. 

Something is pounding at my temples, screaming at me to take note of it. Issue is, I have no idea what it is. I remember what Massimo told me in that hotel bar in Chicago, that he'd never hurt another man for touching me. I believed him. Even now, with his questionable morality hanging by a fucking thread, I still believe him. His calm restraint and ability to, despite everything, not domineer my life. Because above all, he wants me around. 

But although I believe Massimo wouldn't do anything that would permanently piss me off, it's worrying to witness his principles dissolving right before my eyes. It's almost like watching a person be reduced to nothing. 

For the first time, I feel completely inadequate in helping him. In even breathing the same air as him. Whatever's happening inside his head is too deviant, and I'm worried it will consume the both of us.

This is why I should totally go for someone like Bryan. Someone who makes everything simple. That's what I would've done before Massimo ever came into my life. And although it was unfulfilling, it was certainly better than dealing with this literal insanity. 

But I'm arguably just as fucked, because I know I won't stop trying to help him. It's been wired in me, this obsession and inability to let go of things. I just have to hope I won't lose anything important in the process.

When I walk up to Massimo, my voice is calm. Steady. "How'd you get out of your apartment? Where's your guy with the key?"

"That's who I was just looking for. Despite how it may seem, I am feeling better. When I'm coming down from an extended episode, it takes a little bit for things in me to settle again. I just need to start exposing myself to things and people. Eventually, I will regulate."

I want to ask him how better means fantasizing about planting bombs in people's houses, but I refrain. 

"I told my solider to let me out," Massimo continues. "He was accompanying me on my walk around the building. He heard a noise and went ahead. I've been looking for him since."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

My question makes him shift, lips parting soundlessly for a few moments. "I didn't trust myself. Not yet, not fully. When we catch this person, we need to question them."

He didn't trust himself not to kill the intruder. At least he's self-aware. 

"We must've both been chasing that fucker then. I didn't see your guy, though." I don't want to think about what that means for him. "We need to see what they left this time. It could be the rest of the corpse. Multiple corpses."

Steeling myself, I march towards his door. Before I can get very far, a hand on my wrist pulls me back. Massimo quickly lets go, his face unreadable as he steps in front of me. I roll my eyes as he slips inside.

"Not gonna order me to stay out here?" I smirk. He's learning. "Good boy."

Massimo's in his foyer, standing still, jaw clenching rhythmically when I waltz in. The look he's giving me is now verging on a glare. My smirk widens.

Knew you were in there somewhere, big guy.

Although any amusement quickly drops as we begin inspecting his place, room by room, finding that everything appears perfectly normal. No body parts. No blood.

"It doesn't make any sense," I sigh, dropping onto the couch. Something still feels off, but there's nothing to be found that validates the odd, sinking feeling. "Someone was definitely in here. Could they have left something behind, like some kind of trap? Why would they just leave?"

Massimo stands with his arms braced on the counter, unable to hide his exhaustion. The shadows under his eyes are deep, and I notice that he even appears a little leaner than normal. Like he's lost weight. When he notices my attention, he straightens.

"They had eyes on me. They were waiting for me to leave my apartment. They've killed my soldier—he's not responding to my messages, and he's not back yet. Which means he probably saw who they were, so they got rid of him. Stole the key. Came back here. You almost saw them leaving." His chest expands on a deep breath as he runs a hand through his hair. "Never do that again. Never run blindly at danger like that, Vivienne, or I will kill you myself."

I press my lips together, nodding. His concern is sharp and sudden, like he's just flared back to life a little. 

"Don't you have security cameras?"

His hands clench against the counter, and he taps around on his phone for a few seconds, nostrils flaring. "I do. They keep glitching. I keep fixing them. Only for them to encounter an unexplainable issue again."

"What does that mean?" I almost whisper, chills spreading over me like a prickly blanket. Suddenly, everything feels unsafe. Even just breathing, because this person controls that too. It's like everything Massimo can think of, they've already considered. How the fuck is that possible?

"That this person has complete and total access to me. And they did leave something behind. You and I are just missing it."

The chills become full body trembles. It's that feeling of knowing someone's right behind you, but you're frozen in fear, unable to turn around. Having someone invade and tamper with your space right under your nose, knowing they're in full control... it's almost dehumanizing.

Nothing is safe. We could be breathing in gas, for all we know.

I shut my eyes, breathing past the panic, trying to visualize the fleeting glimpse of this person I saw. "I remember the fabric I saw was unusual. It was flowing behind them so I assumed it was their shirt, kind of loose. I... I'm pretty sure it was red. I can't remember the pattern, but there was yellow in there."

Massimo shakes his head. "They're waiting for me to remember. This game ends when I understand what they're trying to tell me." He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting his eyes slip shut. "I don't do loose ends, Vivienne. Or messes. I do what needs to be done. I clean things up. The only messy part of my past is Devil's Dice and the Ordinance."

Vaguely, I recall the sacrificial ritual he told me he witnessed the night he burned his father's casino down.

"I need to remember. It feels like I'm so close. So close." With a noise of frustration, he roots fingers in his hair, pulling. It looks painful but he doesn't acknowledge it. "They're waiting for me to remember. I'm still two steps behind them and I should have remembered. They're getting impatient. I need to..." he trails off, yanking at his hair, eyes unfocused.

"Massimo," I say, quietly, breathlessly. He's scaring me, but he doesn't need to know that. "You will. You'll remember, but not like this." He jolts when I place my hand on his, carefully untangling it from his hair and guiding it down to his side.

His gaze slides over my face, and there's pain deeply rooted in his eyes. It's an acute pain, like he's being cut open, and I wonder if it's always been there or if he's finally letting me see it. When I look down, I notice his hand is limp and I'm holding onto him tightly. I drop it like it's burning me, and his chest starts moving sharply. He was holding his breath. My touch was hurting him, but he did nothing to stop me.

Our chests begin to rise and fall in sync as I force down apologies and questions. I step back since he clearly needs distance right now, but he steps with me.

"You're okay," he says, like he's just realizing this. Like my touch brought him back. "You're safe. And you're still here. Why?"

I nod almost frantically, feeling unexplainably sad. "Nobody hurt me. And even if you tried, I'd dropkick your ass. Did it before and I can do it again. As for why I'm here, I told you we were going to figure this shit out, and I meant it."

His chest jackknifes, and he leans towards me. "I didn't know that you were. I didn't know anything. Once I saw your door wide open and heard you went chasing after someone, I..." his eyes flicker, and he loses whatever train of thought he's on. "I get so confused when it gets bad. I don't like it, Vivienne."

My throat closes at how helpless he sounds. "Well, now you know one thing, don't you? We're going to figure this out."

Without warning he grabs my wrist, placing it on his chest. I gasp and try to wrench myself away but the tendons in his arm tighten as he holds me there, even as he goes rigid with the pain of the contact. Through his clothing, I can feel his heart thrashing. It's an almost inhuman pace and worry tugs at me. That can't be a pulse quickening from fear or some other emotion. It's way too fast.

"Massimo, don't. It's hurting you. Please," I beg, but he doesn't listen.

"You didn't want to see me this week," he speaks through gritted teeth, almost an accusation.

"Well, yeah. I'm angry at you. You rooted through my stuff." The reminder makes my skin feel hot and tight. He invaded my privacy. He saw my plans. "I didn't want to say something I'd regret."

"You wanted distance. I offended you." He's closer now, so close that when his soft lips brush my jawbone, I sigh onto his cheek. Goosebumps prickle his neck, and I screw my eyes shut.

"Yes," I whisper, "I wanted distance. I still want it. You want it too." I wrench my eyes open, forcing myself to focus. "This is hurting you. Touching me is hurting you."

Once again, he ignores me. The pain is running violently through him but he won't acknowledge it. His fingers flex on my back as he draws me closer. "And you're not angry that I didn't let you come on my tongue at your parents' house?" 

I almost choke on my breath. "Massimo, d—"

"It's okay that it hurts, Vivienne. Pain doesn't have to be a bad thing." His voice is calm, contrasting with everything else about him. "Right now, it helps me."

Helps him?

I calm down a little, taking in our stance. One glance down his body tells me he's turned on. I can't tell where his panicked breaths end and his arousal begins, but the pain seems to be rooting him in this moment.

"With you," he says suddenly, "it helps me."

I shift, wondering if I should be ashamed of the heat gathering between my legs. Massimo suddenly stills, not removing his touch from me. His gaze is expectant. He's waiting for me to pull away, to say I don't want it. But the issue is I do. He's hopeful and empty all at once, and I wonder if I'm wrong for reading some of his emptiness as anticipatory disappointment at me putting a stop to this.

I press closer to him, just a little, and his breath catches. "Are you angry at me for not letting you come, Vivienne?"

"No," I lie, "not angry at all."

He takes his time reading the look on my face, and I let him. Maybe he needs more time right now to process some things, and I'm perfectly fine being patient. As I soak in his destitute gaze, I suddenly wish I could see him laugh. Smirk, smile, anything. I feel desperate to notice something more human in him. Not because he makes me uncomfortable, but because I long for him to be happy in that uncontrollable, spontaneous way. Where he forgets to be so empty. To have him kiss me and feel him smiling against my lips, to absorb his laugh. Such simple, little things. And I'll never experience them with him.

"Let me fix it." He plainly reads my lie, nuzzling into me. "I've done so much to anger you, haven't I? So let me fix this one, right now."

I gasp at the sudden feeling of his lips on my skin, his breaths skittering down my neck. The heat below my stomach is heavy and intense. I feel almost ashamed for thinking I could feel this way with Bryan, and I resist the urge to press my thighs together as the intensity of what he made me feel at my parents' house returns full force. Like it was just waiting for him to reignite it.

I arch into him, digging my fingers into his shoulder, loving the way he towers over me, the way he engulfs me.

But I hate the broken, detached lilt to him, and I don't know what it means that we still want each other in this moment, that he's kissing me and eating up the broken moan I let loose into his mouth as we fall into it. Messy and desperate. Hurting and tormented. 

Massimo shoves a hand between my legs and the second he touches me, my body sings. He makes an approving sound into my mouth that sends shivering trembles down my spine. I no longer can feel him shaking. Instead it's me, weak and gasping for him.

"You see, Vivienne?" He murmurs, finding my clit and pinching it, making me jolt against him. "Isn't losing control worth it? Doesn't it feel good? You made yourself wait so long for this, dolcezza. I'll always give you what you want." His voice turns silken, almost soothing, as he sinks a finger deep into my slit. "Now give me what I want."

The deepest part of me clenches so hard around his digit I deliriously wonder if it's hurting him. Then I'm bowing against him, my legs going wobbly and numb. Once the moment of shock has passed, intense pleasure takes over, and I'm spasming around his fingers with a gasping moan.

The intensity is unlike anything I've felt before, because I've been wound tight all week, needing him. And yeah, I could've taken it upon myself (and my vibrator), but it wouldn't have been the same.

A small, hopeful light starts flickering in my chest as I look up, my vision actually blurry, and see something in his eyes I didn't see before.

Calm. Something in him is more tethered because of what just happened.

Isn't losing control worth it?

"I only ask two things of you," he says into the deep silence, letting me lean on him as I regain my energy. His hands have fallen to his side, and he's not touching me otherwise. "That you don't let anybody else do to you what I just did. And if you need to go away from me, you tell me. Tell me what you need."

Tension slowly creeps back into my bones, and I pull back from him. My legs feel like they can hold me now. Mostly. His shoulders relax minutely, a detail I notice guiltily. Even that, me resting on his chest, was hurting him. But once again he let me take what I needed.

"Massimo, this isn't..." I bite my lip, unable to look him in the eyes. "This isn't going to last between us. What are we gonna do, just go on like this forever? This will end once we catch whoever's threatening you." 

It has to. My emotions be damned.

He blinks slowly, processing my words. Will he get angry? Proclaim that I'm stuck with him, like he's more or less done in the past? I can't deny that we've already been acting like a damn couple. 

"Massimo, I'm the kind of girl who does shit like this," I force myself to say. For some reason, my stomach hurts. I'm desperate for him to know the truth, for my emotions to make sense to both of us. "I get attached to people for a short time. I'm not someone who sticks around. I... I want to help you, because I feel for you. I like you." And God help me for it. "But after we figure out who's messing with you, after both of us are safe, this is ending."

There's no way that could've been unclear to him. But still, he doesn't react. Takes it all in calmly. I realize I'm almost panting and reign myself in. I seem to be the one worked up over this. He seems to be... fine.

"I'm not so good at guessing what you need," he finally says. "I can give you the basic things like food and safety. But I don't understand a lot of what you say about how you feel. You clearly wish for the man you're with to possess that ability. But he doesn't. And you're not going to be with anyone else while I'm with you."

I raise a brow, ignoring the deep fluttering in my stomach. "Watch it. That almost sounded like you trying to order me around."

His gaze slides down my body. "And the noises you were making earlier around my fingers almost sounded like you know nobody else can make you feel that good."

No, I'm not getting turned on again.

"It was time for you to relinquish some of your control, Vivienne. I don't understand some things, but at least I don't run from them."

A sharp response is on the tip of my tongue. One that rebukes him for saying I'm running, even though that's exactly what I'm doing. A response that refuses to give him what he wants because that just brings us one inch closer to a place neither of us know how to be.

"Okay," I find myself saying. "I'll tell you when I need distance. I'll tell you what I need. And I won't fuck anyone else. I'll make it easier for both of us. For however long this lasts."

"Or kiss anyone else," he says, jaw tightening. "Or touch them. You grabbed his hand earlier in the hallway."

"Fine. You're quite observant for how emotionally clogged you are."

"Excuse me?"

I smile at his irritation. "You heard me, big guy." And then because I can't help myself, I lift my hand to smooth back his hair. It's still messy from him raking manic fingers through it earlier. I move slowly, giving him the change to pull back. But his eyes turn molten even as his shoulders tense at the contact. My gut gives a low swoop, and I'm beginning to realize this feeling I'm having is butterflies. 

Something in him settling again. I realize he's been feeling like he's the only one losing control in all of this, and this was his way of making sure he's not alone. He wanted it to be my turn to give something up. And it didn't take much to convince me of something I've been desperately trying to talk myself out of for weeks.

I just hope I don't regret it.

♛

Before I leave, we search his apartment again, but come up empty. The feeling of something being out of place is still so strong that it's driving me crazy the longer we go without identifying it.

I don't voice it to Massimo, seeing as he's been on the verge of his own mental break, but it's making me paranoid. Now that he's not distracting me with an orgasm, my hands are sweaty and I'm jumping at little noises. It doesn't help that the sun's rising and I'm cutting into the time I'd normally spend sleeping. Exhaustion is making me delirious.

But Massimo looks far worse than I feel. I keep expecting him to reach his limit, but he's good at pushing himself past whatever he must be feeling. I anxiously watch him sit down on his couch, worrying that he's suppressing too much.  

"Massimo, are you okay?"

He looks up at me, very much not okay. "Of course, Vivienne."

"No, I mean... your... illness," I awkwardly fumble, not sure what to call it. Or if he even cares about the term I use. "I just d—"

"I'm handling it," he snaps a little. Then sighs. "I just need to sleep. I haven't had very much actual sleep this week. I'll crash soon and be out for a day or two. Someone will be watching over you when I do."

"Okay," I step away, knowing it's time to leave. I don't care about my safety; I just want to make sure he'll be okay. "Well... is it safe for you to even be here, Massimo?"

"No. Nowhere is safe. I'm going to have to station more men here and at your job. I haven't because I needed to keep knowledge of my whereabouts from going back to my family, but I would be stupid to not bring in more help now." He pauses, clocking my desire to leave. "You are going back to your own apartment?"

"Yes."

His eyes seem to empty further. "It's not safe for you either."

"I'll be fine. I'm sure you'll make sure of that."

I was saying it with slight derision at his overprotective antics, but he nods seriously. "You will have men posted outside your door at all times. And downstairs, in the lobby, as well as outside the building. I'm sending a couple to Pulse, but they will remain outside. You won't see them."

I nod, not even wanting to protest. "Will you change your lock, since that motherfucker still has the key?"

Massimo nods, and there are no more reasons to delay leaving.

Except, by the front door, mostly hidden beneath the rug, something glints up at me from the floor. It's gold. A key.

"Oh, look. Here's your key. He must've dropped it as he was running out of here."

I drop it in Massimo's palm and he turns it around between his fingers, ignoring me. On my way out, I head to the counter by his fridge, remembering that I left my phone charger there when I left for my parents'. Since then, I've been charging my phone using my computer, and it's been fucking annoying.

But my phone charger is gone. "Hey, are you using my charger?" I huff, checking the rest of his counter space. "It's fine if you have been, but I need it back now. Massimo?"

He hasn't moved from his spot on the couch, but now he's texting someone. He pockets his phone and lets his fingers pass rhythmically over the key again. "Your charger isn't where you left it?"

I stare at the back of his head, frowning at his weird ass tone. "It's gone, yeah. Did you move it?"

"I didn't move your charger."

Alarm bells are going off in my head and at this point, it's fucking annoying. Something is wrong. It's that tone. It's off. And I mean more than usual.

"Massimo... what's going on?"

When I carefully round the couch, he doesn't look up. He doesn't even react when I place a careful hand on his wrist, stopping his obsessive stroking of the key.

"This key is not the one that goes to the deadbolt on my door."

"Okay, so... it's one of his keys then? That could be a helpful clue." Or not, because there are about a million things a random key could be used for and no real way to test them all. "Do you know where it goes to?"

All the air escapes me as his head snaps up. His eyes are wild, like I've never seen them, and it sends me tumbling back to my ass. He shoots to a stand, clutching the key like it's a lifeline.

"Yes. And I remember, Vivienne. I remember everything."

♛

Babe figured it out! Next chapter, you'll have your answers... Any predictions?

- G