Chapter 2 Matteo
I DIDN'T SLEEP.
I'd gone back to my apartment after locking Stefan in the holding room, but sleep felt impossible.
Every time I closed my eyes I saw him—standing in that office with a camera in his watch and defiance in his eyes.
The way he'd looked at me when I'd yanked off his disguise.
Fear mixed with something else. Something that made my chest tight and my hands itch to touch him.
I'd wanted to stay in that room with him. Wanted to push him against the wall and find out if his mouth tasted as good as it looked. Wanted to hear what sounds he'd make if I wrapped my hand around his throat and squeezed just enough to remind him who was in control.
Instead, I'd left.
Because wanting Stefan Romano was dangerous and stupid and exactly the kind of complication I didn't need.
At five AM I gave up on sleep entirely and went back to Inferno. The club was quiet in the morning light, the glamour stripped away to reveal stained floors and empty bottles. The cleaning crew moved through the space like ghosts, restoring order before tonight's chaos.
I took the stairs to the second floor.
The holding rooms were monitored by cameras and one-way glass, allowing us to observe without being seen. I'd installed the system myself three years ago after we'd needed to question a rival family's lieutenant and wanted to watch his reactions when he thought he was alone.
Stefan's room was third on the left.
I stopped at the observation window and looked through.
He was pacing. Back and forth across the small space like a caged animal testing the boundaries of his prison. The t-shirt and sweatpants I'd given him were too big, hanging loose on his frame in ways that made him look younger than twenty-three. More vulnerable.
But even locked up and clearly terrified, he held himself with pride. Chin up. Shoulders back. Refusing to show weakness.
Something dark and possessive flared in my chest as I watched him.
Mine.
The thought was immediate and absolute. Stefan Romano had walked into my territory, and now he belonged to me. Not as leverage against Giuseppe. Not as a prisoner to be interrogated and disposed of.
As mine.
I'd known it the moment I'd caught him in that office. The moment I'd seen his real face emerge from beneath the disguise. The moment his green eyes had met mine with that perfect mix of fear and defiance that made me want to break him and protect him in equal measure.
At eight, I phoned Sandro. "We've got a situation," I told him "Stefan Romano infiltrated Inferno last night wearing a disguise and a wig. Security caught him on camera trying to access restricted areas. He was gathering intelligence before my men grabbed him."
"Where is he now?"
I stared at Stefan through the one-way glass, unable to tear my eyes away from him. "Locked in one of the upstairs rooms. Refusing to answer questions about who sent him or what he was looking for. What do you want me to do with him?"
"What do you want to do with him?" Sandro’s voice was longsuffering, like he already knew what I was going to answer. Even I didn’t know what I was going to answer.
"I haven't decided yet." I kept my voice calm. "Could keep him as leverage against the Romano family. Could hand him back and demand compensation for the security breach. Or..."
"Or?"
"Or maybe just keep him." I gritted my teeth.
"Don't do anything rash," Sandro ordered. "I'll be there in an hour. We'll figure this out together."
I went back to concentrating on Stefan. His brown hair looked dark from the water of last night’s shower. He bit at his plush lower lip, worrying it between his teeth.
I was so focused on Stefan that I didn't hear footsteps until Elio spoke behind me.
"This is a bad idea."
I turned. Elio stood at the top of the stairs, impeccably dressed as always. Luca appeared behind him a moment later, looking more rumpled but alert.
"I didn't call a meeting," I said.
"You didn't have to." Elio moved to stand beside me at the window, looking through at Stefan. "Word travels fast when you lock up a rival family's son. Half the security team is gossiping about it."
Luca joined us at the window. "Giuseppe Romano's youngest. The pretty one he parades at functions." He whistled low. "You've really fucked up this time."
"I know what I'm doing."
"Do you?" Elio crossed his arms. "Because from where I'm standing, you've just kidnapped someone during a federal RICO investigation."
I looked back at Stefan.
"He came into my club wearing a disguise," I said. "He was gathering intelligence. He compromised our security."
"So send him back to Giuseppe in pieces," Luca said practically. "Send a message about what happens to spies."
"No."
"Then what's the plan?" Elio asked. "Because keeping him locked up here isn't sustainable. His father will come looking. The FBI might get involved if they think we're holding a civilian hostage. This could destroy everything we're trying to protect."
"I don't care."
Elio stared at me. "You don't care? Matteo, the trial starts in six months. We need to be focused on—"
"I know when the fucking trial starts," I snapped. "I know what's at stake. And I'm still keeping him."
Luca studied my face. "You're not going to let him go, are you?"
"No."
"Even if it starts a war with the Romanos?"
"Especially then. Giuseppe treats his sons like property. Sells them like livestock. Someone needs to show Stefan there's another way."
"By locking him in a room?" Elio's voice was sharp. "That's just a different cage, Matteo."
"It's temporary. Until I know he's safe."
"Safe from what? His family? The life he was born into?" Elio shook his head. "You can't save him from that. You can only make it worse."
Before I could respond, we heard voices from the stairs.
Sandro and Emilio.
I recognized Sandro's measured tones, Emilio's quieter response. They emerged at the top of the stairs together, Sandro's hand possessive on Emilio's back.
Sandro took in the three of us standing by the window and raised an eyebrow. "Show me."
I made room for him at the one-way glass. Stefan was pacing like a caged animal, equal parts restless energy and nerves. I wanted my hand around his throat again.
"What did he say when you questioned him?"
"Nothing useful. Claims he was just looking around. Denies his father sent him. Says he came on his own." My jaw clenched. "He's lying. Giuseppe Romano doesn't let his sons make their own decisions. Especially not Stefan."
"What do you want to do with him?"
"I already told you. I'm keeping him."
Elio grumbled loudly at me. "That's kidnapping. We've got federal prosecutors building a RICO case and you want to add kidnapping charges?"
"I don't care."
"Matteo—"
"I said I don't care. He came into my club. Tried to steal information. Got caught. That makes him mine until I decide otherwise."
"His father will retaliate," Sandro warned. "Giuseppe Romano doesn't take kindly to people taking his possessions. And that's what Stefan is to him. Property."
"Good. Let him try." I felt absolutely, icily calm. "I've been looking for an excuse to go to war with the Romanos. Stefan just gave me one."
Elio and Luca exchanged a look.
Sandro sighed. "We'll discuss this. The four of us. Privately."
I followed the others into the conference room.
"This is a mistake," Elio said immediately. "We can't afford complications right now. The trial starts in six months. We need to be focused on that, not dealing with Giuseppe Romano's fury because we're holding his son hostage."
"I'm not asking for permission," I told him. "I'm keeping Stefan. End of discussion."
"You're letting your dick make decisions," retorted Luca. "That never ends well."
"This isn't about sex."
"Then what is it about?" Sandro asked.
I tried to think of a way to make him understand.
Understand that Stefan was mine. "Did you see his face at the auction?
When that investment banker bought him? He looked terrified for just a second before he hid it.
Then he saw me watching and something changed.
Like he was hoping I'd do something. Save him. "
"You didn't," Sandro pointed out.
"I know. And I've regretted it every day since." I took a deep breath. "He came here on his own. Walked right into our territory. That took courage. Stupidity. Maybe both. But he's here now and I'm not letting him go back to that life. To being sold and paraded and treated like property."
"So you're going to treat him like property instead?" Elio said. "Keep him locked in a room? That's not saving him, Matteo. That's just a different cage."
"I'll let him go when I know he's safe. When I know his father can't sell him to the highest bidder again." My gaze swept over my partners. "I'm keeping him. If that's a problem, tell me now."
Luca shook his head. "Not my problem unless it becomes my problem."
Elio sighed. "This is going to blow up. But I can't stop you."
Sandro was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "Keep him," he said. "But this is your responsibility. If Giuseppe comes after us, you handle it. If Stefan becomes a liability, you deal with it. And if this ends badly, that's on you."
I nodded. "Understood."
We filed out of the conference room. I made my way down the corridor to the door into Stefan’s room. Swiped my keycard. The lock clicked open.
He had his knees pulled to his chest, looking small and vulnerable and completely out of place in that stark room. Everything about him called to something primal in me. Something that wanted to protect and possess in equal measure.
I needed to make sure he understood that I wasn't going to hurt him. That this cage was temporary. That I'd seen him at that auction and something in me had shifted, something I couldn't name but couldn't ignore.
Stefan's head snapped up when I entered. For a moment we just stared at each other. His green eyes were wide, wary. His body tensed like he was preparing to fight or flee.
I closed the door behind me with a soft click.
The room felt smaller with both of us in it. More intimate. The air between us charged with tension and something darker.
"We need to talk," I said.
Stefan's jaw tightened. "I have nothing to say to you."
"Then listen."
I moved further into the room. He shifted on the bed, putting his feet on the floor, ready to bolt even though there was nowhere to go. Even terrified and trapped, he refused to cower. That defiance did something to me. Made the possessive need stronger.
"Your father sent you here to die," I said bluntly. "Or did you think Giuseppe actually believed you'd succeed?"
"Fuck you."
"You walked into my club wearing a disguise," I continued. "You tried to spy on us. You compromised our security. In my world, that has consequences."
"Then deliver them and stop playing games."
Brave or stupid.
I moved closer until I was standing over him. He had to tilt his head back to meet my eyes, refusing to be intimidated despite the fear I could see in the tension of his shoulders, the rapid pulse at his throat.
My thumb brushed over his cheekbone. "You walked into my territory. That makes you mine. And I protect what's mine."
"I'm not yours."
"Yes," I said. "You are."
We stared at each other. His pupils were dilated, breath coming faster. Fear, yes. But something else too. Something that mirrored the darkness coiling in my chest.
Want.
I stepped back before I did something we'd both regret. Or maybe something only he'd regret. I wasn't sure I was capable of regret anymore when it came to Stefan Romano.
"Get some rest," I said, my voice rougher than intended. "We'll talk later about what happens next."
I left before he could respond. Before I could give in to the urge to stay, to push him back on that bed and find out exactly how he'd sound when he stopped fighting.
Outside the room, I leaned against the wall and dragged in a breath.
This was dangerous. Keeping Stefan was already the stupidest decision I'd made in years. Wanting him made it catastrophic.
But I couldn't let him go.
Wouldn't let him go.
He was mine now. And I'd burn down anyone who tried to take him from me.
Even if the person trying to take him was Stefan himself.