Chapter 8 Matteo #2
"Tempting. But I need you healthy." I extracted myself from his arms despite his protest. "I'll bring breakfast. Real breakfast, not just coffee and toast."
I got dressed and headed downstairs to the club's kitchen. The morning staff was preparing for tonight's service, but they were used to me raiding the supplies. I put together a meal—eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, coffee that actually tasted good instead of the standard break room swill.
When I returned to Stefan's room, he'd gotten dressed in the new clothes I'd bought him. The sight of him in dark jeans and a soft t-shirt did something to me. He looked comfortable. Real. Like someone who belonged in my world instead of a hostage I was keeping locked away.
"Breakfast in bed?" Stefan raised an eyebrow as I set the tray down.
"You've earned it."
We sat on the bed together and ate. It was domestic in a way that should have felt wrong. Should have reminded me that this entire situation was fucked up. Instead, it felt right. Natural. Like we'd been doing this for years instead of hours.
Stefan stole bacon off my plate. I retaliated by eating the strawberries he'd been saving for last. We argued about whether the coffee was too strong (it was perfect) and whether breakfast was overrated (Stefan insisted all meals were equally important, which was adorable).
I watched him laugh at something I'd said and felt that crack in my chest widen.
I was in deep. So far gone I couldn't see daylight anymore.
My phone buzzed. Text from Sandro.
Office. Now. Urgent.
Fuck.
"I have to go," I said, standing up. "Meeting."
Stefan's expression shuttered slightly. "About me?"
"I don't know. Maybe." I kissed him. Couldn't help myself. "I'll be back soon."
"Matteo—" He caught my hand. "Whatever they tell you down there, whatever they want you to do... this is real, right? What's happening between us?"
The vulnerability in his voice destroyed me.
"It's real," I said. "More real than anything else in my life right now."
I left before I could do something stupid like refuse to go to the meeting at all.
***
Sandro was in his office with Elio when I arrived. Both of them looked grim.
"What happened?" I asked.
Sandro slid a folder across his desk. "New intelligence came in this morning. Giuseppe Romano has been meeting with FBI Agent Rebecca Watson. Multiple times over the past two weeks."
I opened the folder. Photos of Giuseppe entering a federal building. Logs of phone calls. A summary report from our source inside the bureau.
"He's trying to flip," Elio said. "Offering information about our operations in exchange for immunity and protection."
My blood went cold.
"How solid is this?" I asked.
"Very." Sandro's expression was carefully neutral. "Our source is reliable. Giuseppe's been feeding them information for weeks. Financial details. Names. Operational procedures. Everything they'd need to build a case."
I scanned the documents. Dates and times of meetings. References to "Romano family cooperation" and "witness testimony regarding Vitale organization."
Giuseppe was trying to take us all down.
"Does Stefan know?" Elio asked.
The question hung in the air.
"I don't know," I said honestly.
"But you're going to ask him." Sandro leaned back in his chair. "Can you still be objective about the Romano situation, Matteo?"
I should say yes. Should promise that what happened between Stefan and me wouldn't affect my judgment. Should maintain the fiction that I could separate my feelings from strategy.
"Yes," I said.
We both knew I was lying.
Sandro sighed. "Talk to him. Find out what he knows. But Matteo—" He held my gaze. "If Stefan's involved in this, if he came here as part of Giuseppe's plan to infiltrate and gather intelligence, you need to tell me. No matter what's happened between you."
"He didn't know." The certainty surprised me. "Stefan came here trying to prove himself to his father. Giuseppe sent him on a suicide mission. This wasn't a coordinated plan."
"You better be right." Elio's voice was sharp. "Because if you're wrong, if Stefan's playing you, we're all fucked."
I took the folder and left.
My mind raced as I climbed the stairs. Giuseppe working with the FBI changed everything. Made Stefan even more valuable as leverage—or more dangerous as a potential liability. Made keeping him both more risky and more necessary.
If this went public, if the other families found out Giuseppe was flipping, Stefan would be a target. Giuseppe's son. Someone they could use to send a message or extract information or simply punish the traitor by hurting what he valued.
Not that Giuseppe valued Stefan. But perception mattered more than reality in our world.
I opened the door to Stefan's room.
He was standing by the window, looking up at the narrow slice of sky. He turned when I entered, and his expression shifted from neutral to wary when he saw my face.
"What happened?" he asked.
I considered lying. Considered keeping this from him to protect him or maintain operational security or any of a dozen strategic reasons why sharing intelligence was a bad idea.
Instead, I chose truth.
"Your father's been meeting with the FBI," I said. "He's trying to flip. Offering information about our operations in exchange for immunity."
Stefan went pale. "No. He wouldn't—my father would never betray the family like that."
"He's not betraying the Romano family. He's betraying us. The Vitales. Trying to take down his rivals while protecting himself." I pulled out my phone and showed him one of the photos Sandro had shared. Giuseppe entering a federal building. Clear as day.
Stefan stared at the image. "When was this taken?"
"Three days ago. There are others. Multiple meetings over the past two weeks."
"That's—" Stefan's voice cracked. "That's impossible. He wouldn't. The other families would never forgive that. Going to the feds is—it's the worst thing you can do. Worse than stealing. Worse than killing. You don't cooperate with federal investigations. Ever."
"Your father's desperate. The RICO case against us is strong. If we go down, the Romano family loses significant territory and influence. Giuseppe's trying to survive by helping bury us."
Stefan shook his head. Denial written all over his face. "You're lying. This is some kind of trick to—to turn me against him. To make me give you information."
"I'm not lying." I moved closer. "Stefan, I know this is hard to hear, but—"
"Stop." He backed away. "Just stop. My father has done a lot of terrible things. He's cold and manipulative and he treats his sons like property. But he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't betray the code. It's the one thing—the one fucking thing—that matters in this world."
I wanted to comfort him. Wanted to pull him close and promise everything would be okay. But I couldn't lie about this.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "But it's true."
Stefan's legs gave out. He sank onto the bed, staring at nothing. His hands were shaking.
"If this is true," he said slowly, "my father just signed his own death warrant. The other families won't let him flip. They'll kill him. Make an example. Show everyone what happens to rats."
"That's Giuseppe's problem."
"It's my problem too." Stefan looked up at me. "Because I'm his son. If this goes public, if the families find out what he's doing, I'm a target. They'll come after me to get to him. Or to punish him. Or just to send a message that even your children aren't safe if you betray the code."
The fear in his voice cut through me.
I crossed to him and pulled him close. He resisted for a second, then collapsed against me. His hands fisted in my shirt.
"Nobody's touching you," I said. "I won't let them."
"You can't protect me from everyone."
"I'll try anyway." I tilted his face up to meet my eyes.
"I know this changes things. I know you probably hate me for telling you.
But I needed you to know. Needed you to understand why I can't let you go.
It's not just about wanting you anymore.
It's about keeping you safe from what your father's set in motion. "
"So I'm really a prisoner now." His voice was bitter. "Not just because you're obsessed with me. Because letting me go would get me killed."
"Yes."
At least I was being honest.
Stefan laughed—sharp and broken. "This is so fucked up.
I came here trying to prove myself to a father who doesn't value me.
Got caught by a man who wants me for all the wrong reasons.
And now I find out my father's betraying everything he taught us to believe in, and I'm trapped here for my own protection whether I want to be or not. "
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?" He pulled back to look at me. "Because you're getting what you want. Me. Locked in this room. Dependent on you for safety. Unable to leave even if you opened the door because going home means walking into a death sentence."
He wasn't wrong.
"I didn't plan this," I said. "I didn't know about Giuseppe's cooperation when I decided to keep you."
"But it's convenient, isn't it? Now you have a real reason. Can justify it to your partners. Can tell yourself you're doing this to protect me instead of just because you want to."
"I am doing this to protect you."
"And because you want to." His eyes held mine. "Be honest, Matteo. Even if my father wasn't cooperating with the FBI, even if I wasn't in danger, would you let me go?"
I wanted to lie. Wanted to tell him I'd release him the moment it was safe. That this was temporary. That I wasn't completely consumed by possessiveness and obsession and the need to keep him close.
"No," I admitted. "I wouldn't let you go. Not now. Not after last night. Maybe not ever."
Stefan stared at me. Then, impossibly, he laughed.
"At least you're honest about being completely insane."
"I never claimed to be sane."
"No. You didn't." He leaned his forehead against mine. "I should hate you for this. For keeping me here. For making me want you. For telling me my father's a traitor and my life is in danger and I can't leave even if I wanted to."
"But you don't hate me."
"I should." His breath was warm against my lips. "But I don't. I really, really don't."
I kissed him. Tried to pour everything I couldn't say into the physical connection. All the apologies and promises and desperate need to keep him safe.
When we broke apart, Stefan's eyes were wet.
"What happens now?" he whispered.
"Now I keep you safe. Whatever it takes. From Giuseppe. From the other families. From the FBI. From everyone." I cupped his face with both hands. "You're mine, Stefan. And I protect what's mine."
"Even from myself?"
"Especially from yourself."
He kissed me again. Desperate. Seeking comfort in the only thing that made sense anymore.
We ended up back in bed. Not for sex—though I wanted him with an intensity that should have scared me. Just to hold each other. To pretend for a few more hours that the outside world didn't exist.
Stefan fell asleep eventually, exhausted from emotional whiplash. I watched him breathe and plotted.
Giuseppe Romano was trying to destroy us. Fine. I'd been looking for an excuse to go to war with him anyway. But I'd do it my way. Carefully. Strategically. Making sure Stefan stayed safe no matter what happened.
The other families would come after Giuseppe once word got out about his cooperation. I'd make sure they knew Stefan wasn't involved. Wasn't complicit. Was as much a victim of Giuseppe's choices as anyone else.
And I'd keep him here. Safe. Protected. Mine.
Even if that made me a monster.
Even if Stefan came to hate me for it eventually.
Better he hate me and stay alive than go home to a death sentence.
My phone buzzed. Another text from Sandro.
Meeting tomorrow, 9 AM. All partners. We need a plan for Giuseppe.
I typed back: I'll be there.
Then I silenced my phone and pulled Stefan closer.
Tomorrow I'd deal with strategy and planning and the war that was coming. Tomorrow I'd face my partners and justify keeping Stefan despite the complications. Tomorrow I'd figure out how to destroy Giuseppe without destroying Stefan in the process.
But tonight, I'd hold him and pretend we were just two people who'd found something real in the middle of chaos.
Even if that was a lie we both needed to believe.