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At the time, Adriano had almost considered it for the hungry look on Eric’s face as he interpreted.
“Bottom, fuck a virgin, play boy to a Daddy. Do you know how fucking much money any of those would earn you?”
Adriano didn’t need to worry about money. He wasn’t just rich. He was smart. He had expensive designer taste, but he also had an eye for numbers, and it was easy to start investing when he realized he was raking in the cash because he was a commodity. He could sell both houses, buy something new, and live off the interest from his investments if he really wanted to. He’d never have to work again, and wouldn’t that be a slap in the face to the people who had been profiting off his work?
But he wasn’t quite ready to retire. Yes, he was ready to shake things up, but to walk away from his life entirely?
The vibration on the table under his hand made him look up, and he saw Pietro’s frown as he pointed to Adriano’s phone. The screen was lit up with messages from his lawyer, but he’d forgotten he’d turned the vibrate off just to get a little peace from people still trying to drag the real story out of him.
Anthony: Need you to come to my office. Please bring someone to interpret. This is an emergency.
Anthony: I’m going to be here until two, and then I’m coming to find you.
Anthony: I just got the call from Blaylock Inc.’s representation.
Adriano’s hands shook as he tapped out a quick message about being on his way. He wasn’t quite sure why people like his lawyer thought he kept trained interpreters in his back fucking pocket, but he’d make do.
‘Is Luca in the city?’
Luca was the second youngest—the last planned baby before the whoops that was Adriano—and he was more free spirited than any of the other siblings. He had a small condo near the beach, but he was rarely there when the weather was nice.
‘I’ll call him,’ Pietro said. He stood when Adriano did, then laid a hand on his arm. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I don’t know,’ was the only answer Adriano could give. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. The stress and fury bled through Anthony’s simple words on the screen. ‘Anthony needs me, and I need a better interpreter than you.’
Pietro had the grace not to look offended but at least a little ashamed as he put his phone to his ear. Adriano didn’t stick around for the conversation. He’d use a notepad and pen if he had to, which he’d done before. It took ten times longer, but it was better than nothing, and nothing was just shy of worse than a bad signer.
He hurried into the house, giving his niece a small pat on the head before he rushed to his room. Jude was at his heels, likely yipping for attention, but he ignored the dog as he grabbed a fresh shirt, then moved to wash his face.
He was sweaty from his morning in the sun, but he spritzed on cologne and changed into new jeans, doing up the buttons as he moved for his loafers tucked into the corner of the closet. The room was in total disarray—as it often was when he had to live out of suitcases. Most of his things were still in Malibu, but they all felt so fucking unimportant now that they were tainted with what Eric and Xander had done.
With a sigh, he looked at himself in the mirror and tried not to grimace. He was the same man as before, just haggard and exhausted. He hated that Eric had this much power over him. True, it was becoming obvious he hadn’t loved the other man in years, but he still had a hold over Adriano’s life, and that was starting to weigh on him.
He just wanted this over.
Jude followed close at his heels, and he reached down to pick up the yapping pup before snatching his hearing aids from the dresser and using one hand to push them in. It had been a while, and the molds made his ears instantly start to ache, but he gave himself a reprieve by not turning them on.
He buried his face in Jude’s soft, pampered fur before moving to the living room where Pietro was waiting, pacing in front of the sofa. ‘L will be at Anthony’s office waiting for you.’
Adriano breathed a small sigh of relief and nuzzled his dog once more before setting him down and grabbing his keys off the side table. ‘Thank you,’ he signed with genuine affection.
Pietro wasted no time in pulling Adriano into a hug, and Adriano was profoundly aware he was still the baby. Even nearing forty, he felt young and vulnerable in his big brother’s embrace, and he let himself sink into his own weakness for just a moment.
When he pulled back, he felt better and gave his brother a nod.
‘Let me know when it’s over,’ Pietro insisted.
For the first time that morning, Adriano felt somewhat comforted, and he nodded. ‘I will. Don’t wait up.’ He didn’t think his brother caught that meaning, but it didn’t matter. He slipped out the door and headed to his car, bracing himself for what was about to come next.
CHAPTER3
Noah swipeda mixture of sweat and flour off his brow, then glanced up at the time. The bakery was closed, but morning came too quickly, and it was obvious after hiring an extra set of hands, Paxton wasn’t going to be much good at anything except keeping track of the register and flirting with the customers, and he didn’t think that second part was winning the bakery any favors.
His eyes strayed to the photo he’d hung on the wall—a copy of the one he’d given to Adam—of his younger brother baking with Bubbe. They both looked blissfully happy with dough under their nails and smears of chocolate on their matching aprons. Adam was barely using full sentences, but his passion was already obvious. Noah had never had that, never really felt passion for anyone or anything before.
Even when he was in school, he’d chosen writing because he was good at it. Writing had been a way he could express himself when his own tongue twisted into knots and made him sound like a fool. Writing allowed him no mockery as he tried to put his thoughts together and make sense of his raging emotions.
Not that it helped in the end.
