Emilio stood in front of the floor-length mirror, straightening his dark blue tie for what had to be the tenth time. The apartment was silent save for the ticking of the old wall clock. His reflection stared back, uneasy. Something about the past few days had unsettled him. Matteo had been… distant.
Not cold no, Matteo never allowed him to feel cold. His touch still lingered with warmth, his voice still melted the edges of Emilio's doubts. But there was a weight behind his eyes. Something unsaid. Something dangerous.
The knock on the door snapped him from his thoughts. He opened it to find Matteo, looking sinfully good in a fitted black shirt, the first two buttons left undone, revealing just a hint of ink on his collarbone. His deep red eyes gleamed as they drank in the sight of Emilio, dressed neatly and looking like temptation incarnate.
"Look at you," Matteo said with a slow smirk. "Trying to kill me before dinner?"
"You're late," Emilio replied, folding his arms, lips twitching into a soft pout.
"I had business to handle." Matteo's smirk faded slightly. "But I'm here now. Ready?"
Emilio hesitated. "Are we okay?"
That question hung in the air like smoke.
Matteo's gaze softened, and he reached out, brushing a thumb along Emilio's cheek. "We're more than okay, tesoro. There's just… things I'm handling. Things I want to shield you from."
"You don't have to shield me," Emilio whispered, "Just don't shut me out."
Matteo pulled him close, lips pressing gently against Emilio's forehead. "I'll try."
They left the apartment, tension buzzing between them like static. At dinner, Matteo remained charming as ever. Flashing smiles, trading jokes with the staff at their private rooftop table, letting his fingers graze Emilio's under the table. But something was brewing behind those red eyes. Emilio could feel it. Like a storm curled behind the clouds.
Later that evening, Matteo excused himself to take a call. Emilio wandered to the balcony, the city lights painting him in gold and silver. The moment he turned back to the table, his breath hitched.
Another man tall, poised, and exuding the kind of arrogance that screamed old money was sitting across from him.
"Mind if I join you?" the stranger asked, voice smooth as velvet.
"I think I do," Emilio replied, narrowing his eyes.
But the stranger leaned in anyway, his smile widening. "You must be him. Matteo's newest… indulgence."
Emilio bristled. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, don't look so shocked. Everyone knows how Matteo gets. And everyone knows it never lasts."
A slow, furious burn crept into Emilio's chest. "You don't know anything about us."
The man chuckled. "I don't have to. Just be careful. People close to men like him? They tend to get caught in the crossfire."
Matteo's voice cut in like a blade. "Is there a reason you're harassing what belongs to me?"
The man stood, feigning innocence. "Just a friendly chat."
"You have thirty seconds to disappear before I rearrange your jaw," Matteo said, calm and terrifying.
The man left without another word, but his smug smile lingered like poison.
Emilio looked up at Matteo, trying to decipher his expression. Anger was there, but also guilt. Regret. Maybe even fear.
"I told you," Matteo said softly, "This world… it stains everything it touches."
Emilio stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Matteo's waist. "I don't care. I'm not letting you carry it alone."
For a second, Matteo looked like he might argue. But then he buried his face in Emilio's hair and held him tight.
He didn't say it aloud, but Emilio could feel it in the way Matteo's fingers trembled against his back.
Please don't leave.
Emilio's grip on Matteo tightened, grounding both of them as the world outside their embrace swirled with danger. Matteo's warmth bled into him, but it was his silence that said the most.
After a long moment, Matteo finally pulled back, searching Emilio's eyes. "You don't understand what you're in the middle of, amore."
"Then help me understand," Emilio said firmly, his voice more confident than he felt. "Don't push me away when things get messy."
Matteo exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Let's get out of here."
The ride back was silent, but the air between them buzzed tension laced with vulnerability. When they reached the penthouse, Matteo poured himself a drink, standing by the window like a portrait of sin and shadows.
Emilio watched him, his own emotions knotted tight. "Who was that man?"
"Giovanni La Russo," Matteo replied, barely a whisper. "Son of a rival boss. Old blood, bitter ties."
"And what does he want with me?"
Matteo's jaw flexed, glass cracking slightly in his grip. "He wanted to rattle me."
Emilio stepped closer. "Well, it worked."
That earned a dark laugh. Matteo turned to him, eyes burning. "Good. Let him know I'm rattled. Let them all know I've got something they can't touch. You."
Emilio's breath hitched.
But Matteo wasn't done. He stalked toward him, his steps measured and slow. "You think I don't see the way they look at you? Like you're something they can steal? Play with? Ruin?"
He cornered Emilio against the kitchen island, hands braced on either side. "You drive me fucking mad, Emilio."
Emilio swallowed, heat curling low in his belly. "Why? Because I make you feel things you don't want to feel?"
Matteo's eyes narrowed. "Because you make me need things I never needed before."
Emilio's voice dropped to a whisper. "Then stop pretending you don't want me."
Matteo's lips crushed into his without warning hard, demanding, angry. It wasn't tender. It was a release. Teeth, tongue, a clash of desperation and need. Emilio melted into it, moaning into Matteo's mouth as fingers dug into his hips.
Matteo lifted him onto the counter effortlessly, lips trailing down to his throat, kissing, biting.
"You make me reckless," Matteo growled, hands sliding under Emilio's shirt. "You make me want to burn down every man who even looks at you."
Emilio gasped, arching into him. "Then do it."
Matteo paused, breath ragged. "Careful, tesoro. I'm a man of my word."
They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in heat and tension, before Matteo finally pulled back, pressing his forehead to Emilio's.
"I can't lose you," he whispered.
"You're not going to," Emilio replied, threading his fingers through Matteo's. "But if you keep trying to protect me by shutting me out, you're going to push me away."
Matteo's expression twisted, vulnerability flickering for just a second before the steel returned. "Then stay close, Emilio. Because they're watching now. And next time, it might not be words they come at you with."
Emilio felt the weight of those words settle in his bones, but he didn't waver.
"Then let them come," he said softly. "I'm not afraid, not if I've got you."
Matteo leaned in again, slower this time, kissing him like a promise sealed with fire and fury.
The room was heavy with a thick, crackling energy not anger, not quite lust either, but something messier. Something far more dangerous.
Matteo leaned back against the sofa, his legs spread arrogantly wide, one arm resting along the backrest like a king upon his throne. His gaze was molten, burning holes into Emilio as he sat stiffly on the other side of the room, perched at the edge of the window seat like he was ready to bolt.
But where would he even run? Matteo had already made sure of that.
"You're quiet, tesoro," Matteo drawled, voice velvet smooth and razor-sharp. "That's not like you."
Emilio clenched his hands tightly in his lap, the tension in his shoulders visible even across the room. "Maybe I'm tired of talking and getting nowhere," he snapped, but his voice cracked just a little, betraying him.
Matteo's smirk sharpened. "Or maybe you're tired of pretending you don't like the way I make you feel."
There. Direct hit.
Emilio's cheeks flushed, but he turned his face away quickly, hiding it beneath a curtain of hair.
"You're impossible," he muttered.
"And you're adorable when you're angry," Matteo teased, standing and stretching with lazy, predatory grace. Emilio's eyes betrayed him, tracking the movement of Matteo's muscles beneath his fitted black shirt. The man was a walking sin.
Matteo prowled forward, slow, deliberate, a panther hunting its trembling prey. Emilio stiffened, but Matteo only chuckled low in his throat, tilting his head as he observed him.
"I scare you, don't I?"
"No," Emilio lied instantly.
Matteo's smile was devastating. "Good. You shouldn't fear me... at least, not yet."
The air between them tightened like a stretched wire ready to snap. Matteo didn't touch him. No, that would be too easy. Instead, he stopped mere inches away, close enough that Emilio could feel the warmth of him, smell the expensive cologne clinging to his skin a scent that was beginning to feel like a goddamn weakness.
"You keep acting like you hate this," Matteo murmured, voice dropping an octave, "but every time I'm close, you stop breathing, Emilio."
"You're delusional," Emilio hissed, shoving at his chest a shove Matteo didn't even pretend to resist.
He caught Emilio's wrist easily, his fingers sliding around it like a man claiming a trophy. His thumb brushed deliberately over the frantic pulse hammering beneath Emilio's skin.
"You're shaking," he whispered, leaning in just enough that their lips were a breath apart. "You're mine, Emilio. You can fight it all you want. It'll make it all the sweeter when you finally break for me."
Emilio yanked free, stumbling back like Matteo's touch had burned him. His chest heaved, his hands trembling at his sides.
"You don't own me," he rasped, but the words had no real bite.
Matteo laughed a soft, dangerous sound.
"Not yet," he said, his eyes glinting with pure, wicked promise. "But you're getting there."
He didn't chase him. He didn't have to. Matteo knew exactly what he was doing weaving the tension tighter and tighter until Emilio was the one who would beg for release.
Because he would.
And when he did, Matteo would be right there, waiting.