Chapter 24
Heart to Heart
Matteo sat at the foot of his bed, his body still heavy from the weight of the past week. The hot water from the shower had done little to soothe the bruises that still ached under his skin, the cuts and scrapes from days of running, hiding, and fighting not yet fully healed.
The steam had cleared his head for a moment, but now, as he sat there in the dim light of his room, the exhaustion crept back in, settling deep into his bones. The towel draped over his shoulders was damp, and his hair clung to his forehead in wet strands, dripping occasionally onto the floor. He stared at the faint scars on his knuckles, the reminders of every punch thrown, every fight survived.
But the shower had been a rare moment of peace, one he needed more than he cared to admit. For those few minutes, he had let the water wash away the grime, the blood, and the memories that clung to him like a second skin. Now, though, as he sat there in the quiet, his mind wandered back to Aldo. His once enemy. Then an ally. And now... now the line between the two had blurred, stretching into something... more. Something that Matteo wasn’t sure how to name, let alone handle.
He had never planned for it. Hell, he'd spent years hating the De Luca name, associating it with everything that had gone wrong in his life. The name had been a curse, a shadow that followed him wherever he went. But Aldo... Aldo had come into his life like a storm. A force he couldn’t outrun, couldn’t ignore. He was relentless, infuriating, and yet, somehow, he had carved out a place in Matteo’s life that felt impossible to fill now that he wasn’t here.
And now, as he sat in the quiet of his room, the soft sounds of the house settling around him, he realized he missed him. The thought hit him like a sucker punch, his chest tightening as he tried to process it.
Missed him.
That feeling, that unfamiliar ache in his chest, twisted his stomach. It wasn’t just the absence of Aldo’s presence; it was the way his voice cut through the silence, the way his dry wit could make Matteo laugh even in the darkest moments, the way his steady gaze seemed to see right through him, past the walls he’d built so carefully. It was the way Aldo had become a constant, a fixture in his life that he hadn’t realized he’d come to rely on until it was gone.
He shook his head, as though trying to shake off the thought, but it lingered, stubborn and persistent. His fingers raked through his damp hair, tugging slightly as if the physical sensation could ground him, could steady his mind. But it didn’t work. The quiet of the room only amplified the noise in his head, the questions he didn’t have answers to, the feelings he didn’t know how to face.
As he ran his fingers through his damp hair, trying to steady his mind, there was a knock at the door.
“Matteo?” Enzo’s voice came from the other side, low and tentative, a rare tone for him. “Can I come in?”
Matteo’s breath caught for a moment, and he found himself at a loss. He needed solitude, but there was something about Enzo's voice that was different tonight. Something that made him hesitate.
"Yeah," he replied, his voice hoarse, and almost surprised by how quiet it sounded.
The door creaked open, and Enzo stepped inside, his usual air of confidence softened for once. The dim light cast shadows across his sharp features, but the weight of the moment seemed to reach both brothers as Enzo shut the door behind him, his gaze landing on Matteo, who hadn’t moved from the bed.
There was a moment of silence between them; an unspoken understanding that neither of them could quite name. Enzo didn’t immediately sit; instead, he lingered near the door, his eyes scanning Matteo’s tired form.
"You look like you could use more than just a shower," Enzo said after a moment, a hint of concern under the teasing tone. "You’ve been through hell."
Matteo didn’t respond immediately. His thoughts were still on Aldo, the way he felt when Aldo’s hand had brushed against his, the warmth that had spread through him even after everything. But there was no way to explain that to Enzo.
"Yeah," Matteo muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m fine. Just... tired."
Enzo studied him for a long moment, his gaze intense. "You’re not fine, though. And I know you’re not just physically exhausted. Something’s been eating at you since we got back from the restaurant."
Matteo’s jaw clenched involuntarily. He didn’t want to talk about it; not yet, maybe not ever. Not with Enzo, who had always been the one to carry the weight of the family. The one who was supposed to be the strong, unshakable leader. Matteo didn’t want to burden him with his own complications, his confusion over Aldo, the growing feelings he had no idea how to handle.
But Enzo wasn’t giving him an out. He stepped closer, his expression softening. "Whatever it is, Matteo... you know I’m here, right? We’ve been through hell and back together. You’re not alone in it."
Matteo looked up at him, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to press down on him all at once. He wanted to say something, to tell Enzo what was really on his mind, but the words wouldn’t come. How could he explain it? How could he explain the way he missed Aldo’s presence, the strange mix of guilt and longing that simmered beneath his skin?
Instead, Matteo let out a long breath and nodded. "I know."
There was another beat of silence, and for the first time in a long while, Matteo allowed himself to feel the comfort of his brother’s presence. It wasn’t the answer he had been looking for, but it was enough for now. Enzo didn’t press him further; instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed, a silent offer of support without needing to say a word.
They sat like that for a few moments, neither speaking, the weight of everything hanging in the air, unspoken.
"Enzo, there's something I need to tell you," he said, his voice quiet but determined. "It’s about Aldo."
Enzo's expression softened, and he inclined his head slightly, silently urging Matteo to continue.
"I... I didn't expect this, and I’ve been trying to fight it," Matteo admitted, his voice wavering slightly. "But ever since everything changed, ever since Sicily, he's not just a De Luca anymore. I… I have feelings for him. They're growing stronger, and I don't know what to do with that."
A silence fell between them, heavy and laden with unspoken thoughts. Enzo studied Matteo for a long moment, his eyes thoughtful. Finally, he spoke in a gentle tone that belied the steely resolve underneath. "Matteo, I've known you since birth. Your heart, your judgment; it’s never led you astray. I trust you."
Matteo’s eyes searched Enzo’s face, looking for any hint of reproach, and finding none, he allowed himself to exhale slowly, as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest.
"Whatever you decide," Enzo continued, placing a firm hand on Matteo’s shoulder, "I will stand behind you, like I always have. Your feelings, your choices... they don't change who you are or the fact that you're my brother. We face our battles together, and this is no different."
Matteo felt a surge of gratitude mingled with relief. "I was so afraid," he confessed, his voice softening further. "Afraid that this would change everything between us, or that you'd see it as a weakness."
Enzo shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "Love, or whatever it is that you feel for him, is never a weakness. And in our line of work, sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps us human. Do what you need to do, Matteo. Follow your heart, and know that I'll be here, no matter what."
The words hung in the room like a benediction. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Matteo allowed himself to smile; a small, tentative curve of his lips that spoke of hope and the promise of acceptance.
???
Aldo sat in the spacious living room of the De Luca estate, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. He swirled his glass of whiskey absentmindedly, the amber liquid catching the light as it sloshed. His eyes were fixed on his phone, the screen dim and almost forgotten in his hand.
He had been staring at it for what felt like hours, wondering if he should reach out. Wondering if he should call Matteo. The memory of their time together in Italy, their quiet moments, the unexpected connection, the way they had leaned on each other in the chaos, stirred something deep within him. But he couldn’t shake the doubt. He didn’t know where they stood anymore.
What did Matteo want? What did Matteo feel?
Aldo couldn’t bring himself to believe that the night they shared, those moments of raw vulnerability and undeniable chemistry, were just some fleeting event, something that could be brushed aside like it never happened. But Matteo… Matteo had his own burdens, his own world of responsibility, and Aldo couldn’t help but wonder if what they had was only a temporary escape. A way to survive the storm, but nothing more.
The thought of it made his stomach twist uncomfortably, a sensation he couldn’t shake no matter how much he tried to drown it in whiskey.
He took another sip, his mind swirling with uncertainty, when suddenly the quiet was broken by the sound of footsteps. His housekeeper appeared in the doorway; her voice steady but with a hint of curiosity.
“Mr. De Luca, you have a guest,” she said, her eyes flicking toward the door.
Aldo blinked, his heart giving an unexpected lurch in his chest. “Who is it?” he asked, his voice far more strained than he intended.
The housekeeper gave him a small, almost knowing smile. “It’s Mr. Moretti, sir.”
Aldo’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The whiskey glass in his hand suddenly felt too heavy.He set the glass down on the table with a soft clink, almost absently, as he stood up. His pulse quickened, and he didn’t even bother to smooth out the wrinkles in his shirt as he walked toward the door.
The moment he stepped into the hallway, there he was.
Matteo.
He stood in the doorway, looking almost out of place in the vastness of the room, as if he were unsure whether he belonged here, in Aldo’s world. His eyes met Aldo’s, and for a split second, it felt like the air between them shifted, crackling with all the unspoken things neither of them had dared to say.
Matteo was dressed casually, but even in his simple attire, there was something about the way he carried himself, gravitating toward Aldo in a way that felt both familiar and uncertain. His eyes, dark and tired, searched Aldo’s face, as if looking for something.
Aldo's breath hitched in his chest. His voice came out quieter than he intended, rougher, betraying how much seeing Matteo again affected him. "Matteo," he said, his name like a question, like an invitation, or maybe a plea.
Aldo’s breath hitched in his chest. His voice came out quieter than he intended, rougher, betraying how much seeing Matteo again affected him. "Matteo," he said, his name like a question, like an invitation, or maybe a plea.
His eyes flickered over Matteo’s face, searching for something, for a sign that this was real, that what had happened between them in Italy wasn’t just a moment in time, a fleeting escape from the chaos. The air between them was thick, electric, the distance between their bodies too vast for either of them to ignore.
"I..." Matteo began, his voice faltering, but Aldo couldn’t wait any longer. He took a step forward, closing the space between them, and before Matteo could say anything more, Aldo’s hand reached up, cupping the side of his face gently.
Matteo froze, eyes locking with his for a heartbeat, before he let out a breath that sounded like a whisper of relief, of longing. Then Aldo’s lips were on his.
The kiss deepened again, and this time it was slow, deliberate, as though Aldo was savoring every second, tasting the promise of something more, something real. His hands slid down Matteo’s arms, his touch firm but gentle, as if he were afraid Matteo might pull away. But Matteo didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into it, his own hands finding their way to Aldo’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
The hallway around them seemed to fade, the grandeur of Aldo’s mansion, the high ceilings, the polished wood floors, the faint scent of aged whiskey and leather, melting into the background. There was only this: the heat of Matteo’s body against his, the soft sound of their breathing mingling in the space between them, the way Matteo’s lips moved against his with a kind of urgency that made Aldo’s chest ache.
Aldo’s tongue brushed against Matteo’s lower lip, a silent question, and Matteo answered without hesitation, parting his lips to let him in. The kiss grew deeper, more intimate, their bodies pressing closer together until there was no space left between them.
Aldo’s hands moved to Matteo’s face, his thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, his touch so tender it made Matteo’s breath catch.Matteo’s hands slid up Aldo’s back, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, the way his body tensed and relaxed under his touch. Aldo could feel the heat of Matteo’s skin through the fabric, the rapid beat of his heart echoing his own.
The kiss was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and something deeper, something that had been building between them for weeks, months, maybe even longer. It was as if every unspoken word, every lingering glance, every moment of tension had led them here, to this hallway, to this kiss that felt like a beginning and an end all at once.
Aldo broke the kiss first, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against Matteo’s, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His eyes were dark, almost black in the dim light of the hallway, and they searched Matteo’s face as if looking for answers to questions he hadn’t asked. Aldo could feel the weight of his own gaze, the intensity of it, and it made his chest tighten in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.
“Matteo,” Aldo murmured, his voice rough, almost raw, like the sound had been torn from somewhere deep inside him. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t need to. The way he said Matteo’s name, like it was something precious, something he’d been holding onto for too long, said everything.
Matteo didn’t respond with words. Instead, he leaned in again, capturing Aldo’s lips in another kiss, this one softer, slower, but no less urgent. His hands slid down to Aldo’s hips, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush against each other, the heat between them almost unbearable. Aldo’s hands moved to Matteo’s hair, his fingers tangling in the dark strands as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against Matteo’s in a way that made his knees weak.
The hallway seemed to spin around them, the world narrowing down to the feel of Matteo’s lips on his, the sound of their breathing, the way their bodies fit together as if they’d been made for this. Aldo could feel the tension in Matteo’s body, the way he was holding himself back, and it only made him want more.
He pressed closer, his hands sliding under Matteo’s shirt, his fingers skimming over the warm skin of his lower back. Matteo shuddered at the touch, a low, almost imperceptible sound escaping him, and Aldo felt a surge of satisfaction at the reaction.
They stumbled backward, still tangled together, until Matteo's back hit the wall with a soft thud. The sound seemed to snap something in him, and he broke the kiss again, his hands moving to Aldo's shoulders as if to steady himself. His chest was heaving, his eyes wide and wild, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them crackling with unspoken words and unresolved tension.
“We shouldn’t...here...” Matteo started, his voice rough, but Aldo cut him off with another kiss, this one harder, more demanding. Aldo didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to think about all the reasons why this was a bad idea. All he wanted was this; Matteo’s hands on him, Matteo’s lips against his, Matteo’s body pressed so close he could feel the rapid beat of his heart.
Matteo groaned softly, his hands tightening on Aldo's shoulders, and for a moment, it seemed like he might push him away. But then he was kissing him back, his hands sliding down to his waist, pulling him even closer. The kiss was desperate now, hungry, as if they were both trying to make up for lost time, for all the moments they’d spent pretending this wasn’t what they wanted.
The hallway was silent except for the sound of their breathing, the soft rustle of fabric as their hands moved over each other, exploring, claiming. Aldo could feel the heat of Matteo’s skin beneath his fingers, the way his body responded to every touch, every kiss.
It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Aldo let himself forget about everything else; the danger, the past, the uncertain future. There was only this moment, this kiss, this man who had somehow become so much more than he’d ever expected.
Soon, he’s lost any and all ability to control the noises he made as that tension inside him that’s been brewing for days reignited. He moaned, as Matteo’s hand slipped into his pants, gripping his cock, the feeling so good Aldo knew he wouldn't last for long.
He pushed forward into Matteo’s fist, all restraint he may have possessed before gone, and he growled before kissing him harshly.
Matteo let out a whimper, his body pressing Aldo further into the wall, until his lips left Aldo's and moved down to his jaw and neck, kissing and biting on their way there.
“Fuck me...” Aldo’s whispered as his nails pulled down Matteo's back, surely leaving marks over the soft skin.
Before he could even realize what was happening, Aldo was turned around, his back to Matteo's chest, his face pressed into the wall.
His pants were unceremoniously pushed down along with his underwear, the rough treatment making him shiver from desire. For a moment, Matteo's heat vanished, and Aldo made a motion to turn around, confused, but before he was able to, a high pitched noise broke out of his throat as he felt big, strong hands grip his cheeks and spread them apart, soon followed by the unmistakable sensation of a tongue. There.
Matteo didn’t waste time, his tongue quickly joined by a finger and then another, making Aldo's mind spin from the overload of sensations exploding in his body. He scrambled for something to hold onto, his knees threatening to give out, Matteo's attentions relentless, driving him insane.
“Holy fuck... Matteo....” Aldo moaned, his body trembling. “Fuck me... Fuck me... Please... baby...”
Matteo was quick to comply.
Matteo’s hands grabbed Aldo’s waist, nails digging into skin as he slipped inside.
“Fuck... oh shit... Matteo...” His name fell from Aldo's lips, like a prayer, like worship.
One of Matteo's hands moved from his hip, wrapping around Aldo's chest and pressing them flush against each other as he drove into him like a man on a mission. Aldo's eyes rolled back into his skull, his hand grabbing Matteo's tightly as he surrendered completely to the man holding him.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them gasping for air, their foreheads rested against each other, and Aldo’s eyes flickered to Matteo’s, searching for something; approval, or maybe just confirmation that this was more than just the heat of the moment.
Matteo’s lips parted in a soft, quiet smile, the kind that reached his eyes, making Aldo’s heart race all over again. And in that moment, Aldo knew; they were no longer just two men caught in the storm of their world. They were something more. Something that felt like the beginning of whatever came next.
“Together,” Matteo whispered, his voice raw and sincere.
Aldo nodded, his own heart thumping louder in his chest than ever before. “Together.”