Deviant Prince [Romano Brotherhood, #2]

42 | Massimo

11 years ago
The Ritz-Carlton, Chicago.

Walking the halls of a place like this feels like floating.

The open space is both decadent and cavernous. Self important somehow. It feels like I could get lost around a corner and never find my way back again. The glossy marble floors give the impression that I'm walking on clouds; and I may as well be stuck up there where the air is thin, where it feels like I'm breathing through a straw and nothing is quite real.

It makes me think of Hope Valley, of something so much bigger than myself.

But this, I keep reminding myself, is different. Because she's here.

I categorize the things that have happened in my life differently than most people. I remember events, not feelings, which is preferable to me.

I remember when my father died. I remember being there when Nico was born, killing my mother, gathering my brothers and leaving that cursed house. I remember my first kill, real kill—the way it's supposed to be done in business, when it's the last possible option. I remember last week when Nico wouldn't wake up, and we spent fifteen minutes thinking he was dead before he finally cracked open his eyes, his pulse a weak flutter, and I realized he was just dehydrated and starving. 

I remember just this morning, leaving my brothers and getting in a car with a man Cora sent, so he could bring me here and I could get all dressed up, and I could work for Cora so my brothers could keep living.

But the one memory I have that is marked by feeling is the last time I saw her. The night I met her at Devil's Dice and she helped me get through the evening before burning my father's life work into the ground. I felt warm before she even said a word to me. Safe and seen. 

That seems important. She seems important.

And so I called her. When it was clear my brothers wouldn't survive one more night, I knew I had to call her. Because years passed, and she never came to collect the debt I owed in return for her help that night.

People are quick to go after what they feel they're owed. But she didn't. And I've had years to wonder why.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I also want to chase that intrigue. I want to travel down a path where, for once, I get a peek at what it's like to be normal. I don't typically feel inferior for the things I lack that make me different, but I'm still curious. And telling her I needed help released something in me, flooded me with relief.

I know she will deliver, no matter what I ask of her.

It all feels quite vulnerable and human.

As we walk, her presence before me is reassuring. Even if she were to be out of sight, but I knew for certain she remained in the building, that feeling would remain. She won't let anything bad happen; she never has. When we pass strangers I still tense up, but my mind doesn't go blank with flight or fight. 

Finally, someone else is going to take care of it. Of me.

So this is what it's like. How quaint.

"You still with me, darling? We're almost there." 

I nod before remembering she can't see me, but she must know somehow. She tosses me a look over one slender shoulder and gives a quiet laugh. People are too... human for me to find them attractive, but I can tell that Cora is because everyone she talks to gives her what she wants.

And now, I'm supposed to give her what she wants.

"So, you and your clients will stick to this floor and the one above," she says, heels muted on the thick carpet. "Nobody else should bother you. But if anybody tries talking to you, you don't tell them anything. Leave and inform me immediately. Understand? Use words."