Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Matteo
I knew this was a dumb fucking idea, but I also knew I was absolutely going to run with this dumb fucking idea.
Connor was trying hard to keep himself upright, but he was losing the battle fast. I wasn’t sure he realized how much he’d started to sway.
My immediate urge was to get anything that had belonged to Ralphie off him because I wanted only myself to have the privilege. Fucking dumb.
Those goddamn eyes of his were going to ruin me.
Letting him into my home without a vetted clearance was the most foolish thing I’d done in years, and I’d be damned if I would regret it right now.
There’d be plenty of time to prove to myself how I fucked up later.
Right now, I needed to get him off his feet and get some food in him.
“I’ll give you the tour later. For now, you can get situated and start your work.
Your job will be to provide for me in the house.
If I don’t have time to find the report from a stack or make coffee, that’s on you.
If I need it, you’ll do it. In time, you’ll figure it out before I need to ask.
” Shit, Connor’s sways had gotten worse over the last minute and he had a ghostlike pallor.
“We’ll discuss all this later, but I’ll show you where you’ll be staying. ”
I came around the desk, intending to take Connor to a room where he could lie down.
I didn’t know if the pain or his exhaustion or maybe just fear took him out, but his knees buckled.
I caught him before he crashed into anything, but when I grabbed his torso, he let loose a blood-curdling scream.
There was a chair next to him, so I lowered him onto it and raised his shirt.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
His entire torso was a mess of bruises, bulges, and abrasions.
Ralphie was a piece of fucking shit. It was one thing to fight someone, but something else to torture someone for your own amusement.
Priority one was figuring out how closely connected his Uncle Jasper was to Ralphie.
Even in his current state, Connor struggled to get away and stand up.
“Sir, I’m fine, and I can work. I promise I can.”
“Pup, stop,” I ordered. My voice was harsher than intended, but it had the desired effect. Connor ceased his movements immediately. A trip to the hospital was out of the question, but I wouldn’t be satisfied until he received medical care. “You’re going to hurt yourself worse than you already are.”
“Please don’t send me to the houses. Please. I can do my job if I can catch my breath. I’m begging. Please don’t make me go there. I’ll do anything you want.” Connor’s voice cracked and the fear in his eyes was unmistakable.
“What are the houses?” At some point, my hand had tangled in his curly hair. The tears in his captivating eyes made them look brighter than before. “Whatever they are, you’re not going to them. You’re staying right here, pup.”
“The houses,” Connor gasped out, “are where Ralphie said I was headed because I was a shit houseboy. I tried to do what he said, but he changed the rules every day, so I never knew what they were, and then he’d get mad when I guessed wrong.”
I wished like fuck I could have been the one to put a bullet in that piece of shit.
“You’re not leaving,” I repeated, hefting Connor from the chair and striding out of the room with Frankie, my bodyguard, right behind.
I had intended to install him in the room that adjoined mine. However, once I had him in my arms, I knew that shit wasn’t going to happen. I stopped at my bedroom door. Frankie opened the door for me and hurried forward to pull back the covers on the bed.
“Call Doc and tell him to bring the x-ray machine,” I murmured to Frankie.
He gave an abrupt nod and left the room. I sat Connor on the edge of the bed, tossed the blanket he still wore on the floor, and then did the same to the slides. That shit was getting burned.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Oh my God, I still don’t even know your name.” Connor sounded panicked at his realization.
He started to fight me, which did nothing but cause him to take a sharp breath and let out a pained mewl. I eased him back onto the pillows and smoothed his hair off his forehead. The coolness didn’t reassure me.
“Shh, pup, it’s Matteo. My name is Matteo Leone. The doctor needs to come and make sure you’re okay.”
Connor looked so small lying on my bed. His pallor was sickly white, with only his cheeks flushed pink. I traced a finger down his cheek, and he didn’t flinch. I wasn’t sure what it was about this boy, but some part of me recognized he had the potential to be important to me. Fuck, he already was.
Most of my relationships were voluntarily transactional.
All parties knew it was about getting off, and no one had delusions of it being about love.
Some were for a weekend, and some for a few months, but all eventually ended.
When someone got bored—usually me—I gave a thank-you gift and walked out the door. It was painless and quick.
I damn sure hadn’t installed anyone in my home. Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even invited a hookup into my home. Hotels were less messy and more discreet.
“Boss, Doc said he’s on his way. He’s across town, so his ETA is about thirty minutes. He said not to give the kid anything until he gets the x-rays done,” Frankie said in a low tone.
Connor’s eyes were closed, but it was hard to tell if he was sleeping or had passed out.
My fingers trailed over his high cheekbones, dusted with freckles.
His straight nose turned up at the very end and his lips were full and soft-looking.
In better circumstances, they wouldn’t be drawn tight with grimace lines framing them.
Every whimper he uttered made the rage in me worse, but there’d be no answers and explanations until he could breathe without pain.
“Matteo, what happened?” Michel Laurant asked when he entered the bedroom, escorted by Frankie.
Michel provided private medical care for those who demanded absolute discretion. We’d gone to college together and had known each other for years, but even I didn’t know who else he cared for in the city. He approached where I sat next to Connor and whistled low.
“Goddamn. Someone did a number on his face. And more than once.”
Michel set his bag on the nightstand, then chuckled at my growl when he leaned forward to pull up Connor’s T-shirt.
“Simmer down, Teo. I’m not doing anything but what you asked me to do. I’m not going to steal your boy.”
“He’s not my boy.” In unison, Michel and Frankie snorted at my declaration.
“Careful, Frankie, I can fire your ass.”
Frankie straight-up laughed. He knew there was no damn way I’d ever get rid of him. He and I grew up together. His father had been my father’s bodyguard.
“Okay, I won’t do that, but I will make you work with Joey, and I think you’d rather be fired.”
“The hell you will,” Joey yelled from the other side of the door. Clearly, he’d been eavesdropping.
Frankie stomped out of the room without another word and firmly shut the door behind him.
Five seconds later, I heard the furious rumble of their bickering through the closed door.
Well, I heard Joey ranting. Frankie limited himself to one- or two-word responses.
Their animosity toward each other had started in childhood and would likely continue until one of them died—probably by the other’s hand.
Whatever issues they had with each other never spilled over to the job, so I stayed out of it.
“Michel, be careful with him. He can’t, most likely won’t, say exactly what happened.” I sounded like a worried boyfriend, which made no damn sense, given I’d only known this kid a couple of hours. “He collapsed downstairs when he stood up.”
“Vomiting blood? Peeing blood?”
“No vomiting that I’m aware of and no clue about the piss.”
“Okay, let me complete the x-rays, and we’ll go from there.”
Michel bustled around the bed, kicked me out to do the imaging, and then scolded me for getting in his way while he tried to examine Connor.
Throughout all of it, Connor didn’t wake up.
He moaned and whimpered in his sleep but never opened his eyes.
About twenty minutes after the x-rays were taken, Doc pronounced them finished.
“Teo, he’s going to be fine.”
Relief rushed over me, and I refused to examine the feeling.
“His ribs are severely bruised but not broken or cracked. There have been at least two previously broken ones, but they’ve healed.
The good news is there’s no internal bleeding.
He’s in bad shape though. Some of these injuries are older and can’t heal because he’s been reinjured.
He’ll be all right with proper rest and food, but he needs to ease his way into recovery.
There’s not much outside of pregnancy complications that we prescribe bed rest for anymore, but this is one of them. ”
“Food?”
“He’s underweight, making it much harder for his body to heal.
I would suggest getting him to eat as much as he’s willing.
Thin is fine, but malnourished is not. Start him off with broths and move on to toast and easy foods as he tolerates them.
I’m going to leave you some pain meds too.
If he hadn’t complained about pain when he was standing up, then he’s keeping quiet about it. ”
“It was a beating?”
“There’s a shoe-print-sized bruise on one of the ribs. Yeah, someone beat the shit out of this kid.”
“He’s not a kid.”
Michel rolled his eyes at my comment but returned to prepping the materials he’d brought.
“As a precaution, I’m going to do an IV round of pain meds, fluids, and some antibiotics.
A few of the abrasions look like they haven’t been properly cared for, so if they aren’t infected yet, they could be soon, and I’d rather be safe than sorry.
The meds and fluids will jump-start his recovery.
Once we finish today, I’ll come back in the morning to check on him.
Ideally, he won’t have any reasons to leave this bed. ”
Michel bustled around the bed, and I resisted the urge to demand he take his hands off the man in my bed.
“He’s not going anywhere.”