Chapter 7 Matteo
MATTEO
The club is drowned in low lighting and smooth jazz drifting through the speakers. Sion is calm tonight, but even I know in this den of lions nothing ever stays calm for long.
This place was built for men like my father—ruthless kings who ruled in silence and carved their power into the bones of this city. Now, it’s infested with parasites in tailored suits who mistake bravado for legacy.
You’d think a place like this would know how to keep the parasites out. I sip my drink at the bar and look out the window at the rain trickling down the glass.
Every time I see the rain now, I associate it with her.
My mind has been wrapped up in that woman for days.
Engaged.
The woman is fucking engaged.
I shouldn’t care—should pause, turn around, walk away. But even if she belongs to someone else, why does it still feel like she’s mine?
Why do I have this urge to claim her? Valerio is right—she’s just a woman, just another pussy to have. So why am I so drawn to her?
She lives close to the building where I found her—my building. But even with that information, there are still dozens of residences. Most people wouldn’t stand a chance tracking someone down with nothing but a first name. I’m not most people.
The real question is… should I?
I think of that almost-kiss—the brush of her lavender scent slipping into me, claiming space it had no right to.
I raise my glass for another sip when I feel the shift in the air. I see him enter the bar area in my peripheral vision. He slithers in like a snake.
I clock him the moment he steps inside.
He doesn’t belong here—not really, anyway. He plays at being one of us, but he’ll always be a counterfeit heir, blood on borrowed hands. Power bought, not earned, though he tries to claim otherwise.
Giacomo.
He spots me immediately, almost like he was looking for me.
Of course he was.
He adjusts his cufflinks and strides across the room like I’ve been waiting for him. His entourage peels off, giving him space.
“Matteo,” he says, voice slick with that fake charm he wears like cologne. “Didn’t expect to find you here tonight.”
I sip my drink, unmoved. “Still surprises you when I show my face? That’s cute.”
He smiles, but his eyes stay cold. “Old habits. Your father was the one who preferred Sion. You, on the other hand…”
“I’m not my father,” I cut in. “But I am legacy-born. It is my right to be here. Unlike others.”
“Funny,” he quips. “He commanded fear. You… well, you’re still working on that part.”
I lean back in the booth, my tone ice. “You’d be surprised how quickly fear comes when someone realizes who they’re standing across from.”
He lets the silence stretch, then tilts his head. “You’re young. Sharp. I’ll give you that. But inheritance doesn’t equal power. You can’t bluff your way through this world, Matteo.”
“And you can’t buy your way into legacy,” I shoot back. “Tell me, how much did you have to pay to get a seat in Sion? I know how desperately your old man tried to get his greedy little claws into this place—only to fail every time.”
That hits something; his smile twitches.
Good.
“You were always circling my father like a leech, waiting for him to fall. And now that he’s gone, you’re trying to claw your way into the seat you think he kept warm for you.”
Giacomo’s jaw tightens. “Your father kept power by holding a knife to everyone’s throat. I intend to evolve.”
“Into what?” I sneer. “A trafficker? A coward with too many enemies and no code? The brotherhood doesn’t respect evolution when it smells like rot.”
He chuckles low. “Careful, Matteo. You’re starting to sound like you care too much. Since when did the great ice prince find a heart?”
“It’s not about having a heart, Giacomo. It’s about following a code. Having honor. Knowing when not to cross certain lines. A skill you have yet to master.”
He leans in, voice lower, darker. “You think you’re going to stop me? You? The boy playing king in his father’s ashes?”
“I don’t have to stop you,” I say calmly. “You’ll ruin yourself. Men like you always do. You’ll be like Icarus—fly a little too close to the sun.”
He straightens, adjusting his jacket like he’s brushing off the moment. “Though I would love to stay and chat, I need to run. Duties and all. This empire of mine won’t build itself.”
He turns and leaves me sitting at the bar with a sour taste in my mouth. In time, he’ll get what’s coming to him. But for now, I’ll let him be.
After spending another hour at the club and a short call with Valerio, I head to my new apartment.
I hear the elevator ding behind me. I don’t turn right away; it’s probably the neighbor I haven’t met yet. When I finally glance over my shoulder, I freeze.
Beatrice.
She rounds the corner fast, headphones still in, hoodie zipped up, face flushed from what I’m guessing was a run.
She’s so absorbed in her own little bubble that she doesn’t see me standing there.
She nearly collides with my chest before skidding to a stop, breath catching when her eyes lift and land on mine.
“Matteo?” she says, blinking in shock. She glances around like maybe she isn’t seeing correctly. “What are you doing here?”
I raise a brow, amused by the surprise in her voice. I’d planned to tell her later, but now is as good a time as any. “I live here.”
Her mouth parts slightly. “You… what?”
I nod toward the door behind me. “Seems we’re neighbors now. I recently moved in.”
The irony of it all doesn’t escape me.
She stares like she doesn’t believe me. “You’re my neighbor?”
I grin, slow. “Seems that way.”
“And the owner of this building?”
“Yep.”
She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Of course you are. Did you… I mean…”
“I didn’t follow you, if that’s what you’re thinking. My old penthouse is being renovated, and instead of leasing somewhere else, I figured I’d stay here. It is mine, after all.”
“I didn’t say you were following me.”
“You didn’t have to. The look is clear as day on your face.”
She bites her bottom lip, eyes flicking to the door and then back to mine. I can tell she’s working overtime to steady herself. The sweat glistening on her brow doesn’t help my restraint.
“Coming from a run, I see,” I say, breaking through the thick tension.
“Yeah, been trying to get some exercise in,” she says, but her voice is thin, distant. “The engagement party’s coming up. I’m supposed to look… perfect.”
I lift a brow.
“Right. You’re getting married.”
She shifts uncomfortably on her feet. She looks everywhere but at me. I can tell the topic rattles her, and I like seeing her squirm. I like seeing how much my presence alone throws her equilibrium off.
“You’re being shy with me, bella.”
“No, I’m not.” She snaps her head up. “I’m fine. Y-you’re the one being weird.”
“I’m just standing here,” I say easily. “You’re the one who looks like she’s ready to run away.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No. I’m. Not.” The blush on her cheeks deepens; she must realize it, because she looks away abruptly. “I need to go.”
“Right,” I say, voice dipping into something sharp. “Wouldn’t want to keep your fiancé waiting, hm?”
She freezes.
Her eyes flash—not guilt, not shame… something far more dangerous.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Don’t say it like that. You don’t know anything about me.”
Her voice cracks just enough to betray her.
I take a slow breath, watching her chest rise with frustration.
“I guess I’ll see you around, then.” The words come out rougher than I intend.
But the way she reacts at the thought of him… it twists something in me.
Something territorial I have no right to feel.
Not when she belongs to someone else.
Her jaw clenches, and she looks away—because she knows I’ve hit a nerve.
She’s running from more than me.
I don’t get another word in before she turns, bolts to her door, and disappears inside. I stare at the space she occupied for a few seconds before shaking my head with a low laugh.
“Good seeing you, neighbor,” I say into the empty corridor.
It seems fate has been playing its hand with me. No matter how hard I’ve tried to push her from my mind, no matter how many times we drift away from each other… somehow, some way, we always collide.
Maybe it’s a sign. Or maybe it means I need to try harder to let this woman go.
After a few hours, I’m freshly showered and going through one of the files Valerio sent me.
My eyes burn from lack of sleep. I’ve read the same line three times and still couldn’t repeat it.
I’m tired of working, and the fact that this woman is only a few feet from my door is not helping my concentration.
I drop the files and sink into the couch, meaning to rest my eyes for just a second, trying to steady the chaos in my chest.
“Dammit,” I mutter, raking a hand through my hair. This woman has me in a chokehold. Every moment without her stretches into a lifetime. That brief moment outside my door was nowhere near enough. I need her like air.
“Fuck it.”
I march to my door, fueled by sheer desperation and need. But the second I swing it open, I freeze.
She’s already there.
Standing in front of me with flushed cheeks, parted lips, and nerves sparking in her eyes.
“Beatrice…”
Her hands fidget as she looks up at me, those autumn eyes wide with uncertainty.
“I…” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips before she bites down softly. “I shouldn’t be here.”
My throat tightens. “Then why are you?”
I already know the answer. It’s written in her dilated pupils and the heat rising across her skin. She’s here for the same reason I was about to storm to her door.
“I can’t pretend anymore,” she breathes. “That almost-kiss? I wanted it. I wanted you. I ran because it scared me, but I—”
She doesn’t need to say another word.
I close the distance in a breath, and my lips find hers.
Finally.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s fierce—weeks of tension snapping loose all at once. Her fingers curl into my shirt, pulling me closer like she wants to anchor herself to me.