THIN ICE |BOOK I |BWWM|

•ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10•

•PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY•

Adrian's POV

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty.

I carefully set the 25 lb. dumbbell down on the latex mat under my sneakers.

My last rep for the morning was always the hardest, but it cleared my mind for half of a second. Better than nothing, I guess.

I grabbed my chilled water from the nearby cup holder and gulped down half the bottle as I checked my pulse on my watch.

"Any calls?" I asked the man that stood guard a few feet away.

My father, brother, and cousins had a lot of names for them -attendants, assistants- but they were just glorified babysitters. I didn't need a guard. My last overdose was more than a year ago, so at this point it was overkill. But they still thought I needed to be watched, taken out of my room at least four times a day, and my room searched and cleaned daily.

"No calls."

Hmmm.

It's been two days since Andres left for Atlanta. Not only hadn't I heard from him since then, but the men that went with him stopped answering my calls.

I didn't want to move slow and steady. Things were picking up around here, stuff was happening behind closed doors and I needed answers -like yesterday.

The mocking ring of my phone droned on as I called my brother again and got his voicemail.

I had a laundry list of pet peeves, but this was in the definite top five.

Anyone with a phone has it to get calls at anytime, so there was no reason why I should've been stalking Andres' voicemail.

I snatched my towel from Ritzio, my attendant, and slung it over the back of my neck.

"Sir, your father has asked to see you." Ritzio announced as he held his phone.

"He say why?"

"No sir."

My arms dropped to my side in the mid-stretch and I sighed.

He'd been doing that more often. Calling me or Andres just to sit with him, talk, or play chess. Growing up my father was never one to converse with us for the sake of conversation. He said that was my mother's job. So doing it now only felt awkward and forced.

"Let him know I'll be there in thirty."

Ritzio lifted his phone, his fingers flying over the keyboard I as we strolled out of the home gym, returning to my room.

I paused as I stood face to face with my locked door. He popped my keys into the palm of my hand and gave a curt nod, but remained standing awkwardly.

"You can leave now Ritzio."

"Thank you." He marched away almost robotically.

I scoffed, pushing my way into room while the corner of my mouth hitched as if caught by a fish hook.

"When I'm Don, that's gonna stop."

As I stepped in, giving myself privacy, my phone buzzed with Sherlock flashed across the screen.

"You have news for me?" I questioned blankly.

"Yeah, we may have a problem. Russo has been taking money from Mancini, but they ain't stealing it. Mancini is giving it to them to handle business in their new piece of territory."