Chapter 10 Matteo
I COULDN'T PUT this off any longer.
Stefan had chosen to stay. The door was unlocked but he wasn't leaving. That meant I needed to explain the situation to my partners before they found out another way and decided I'd completely lost my mind.
Which, to be fair, I probably had.
I called a meeting for ten AM. Told Stefan I'd be gone for a few hours and to help himself to anything in the room. He'd looked nervous when I left, like he thought I might not come back. Or that I'd change my mind about letting him stay.
I kissed him until that fear faded from his eyes, then headed downstairs.
Sandro, Elio, and Luca were already in the conference room when I arrived. All three looked varying degrees of annoyed at being called in on short notice.
"This better be important," Luca said. "I had plans."
"It's important." I closed the door and stayed standing. Easier to pace. Easier to leave if this went badly. "Stefan's staying."
Silence.
Then Sandro: "Explain."
"He's not a prisoner anymore. I unlocked the door. Told him he could leave. He chose to stay." I met each of their eyes. "He's staying voluntarily. Not as leverage. Not as a hostage. Just... staying."
More silence.
"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Sandro asked, his voice deadly calm.
"Yes," I said honestly. "Probably."
Elio leaned forward. "Are you sleeping with him?"
"Yes."
"Jesus Christ, Matteo—"
"Is this going to start a war with Giuseppe?" Luca cut in, practical as always.
"Probably that too," I admitted.
All three of them stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
Sandro rubbed his temples. "Let me make sure I understand.
You kidnapped Giuseppe Romano's son. Kept him locked up for two weeks.
Started sleeping with him. And now you're telling us he's staying voluntarily and we should just..
. what? Accept that this is normal? That this won't cause catastrophic problems? "
"Yes."
"Matteo—" Elio's voice was tight. "Giuseppe's already a problem because of the FBI cooperation.
We're trying to contain that situation. Adding his son to our household makes everything exponentially more complicated.
Every family in New York will hear about this.
They'll think we're either using Stefan as leverage or that you've gone completely insane. Maybe both."
"I don't care."
"You should care," Sandro said. "The trial starts in five months. We need to be focused. We need to be strategic. We don't need you bringing Giuseppe Romano's son into our inner circle while we're fighting federal charges."
"Stefan stays." My voice was flat. Final. "Or I walk."
The threat hung in the air.
I'd never threatened to leave before. In twelve years working with Sandro, I'd never once suggested I'd abandon him or the partnership. But I meant it now.
If they made me choose between them and Stefan, I'd choose Stefan.
The realization should have terrified me. Should have made me question my sanity. Should have made me reconsider everything.
It didn't.
Sandro studied me for a long moment. I could see him calculating. Weighing the risks of keeping Stefan against the risks of losing me.
"He can stay," Sandro said finally. "But he's your responsibility, Matteo. If this blows up—if Giuseppe retaliates, if the other families make moves, if this complicates the trial—it's on you. You handle it. You protect him. You deal with every consequence."
"Agreed."
"And we need to be smart about this," Elio added. "Stefan can't just wander around the club freely. People will recognize him. Word will get back to Giuseppe. To the other families. We need to control the narrative."
"What do you suggest?"
"Make it public on our terms," Luca said. "Bring him down to the club. Introduce him to key people. Make it clear he's under your protection. That anyone who touches him answers to you. Control the story before someone else does."
It was smart. Risky, but smart.
"When?" I asked.
"Soon," Sandro said. "Before rumors start spreading. Before Giuseppe hears from someone else that his son is alive and living with his enemies." He looked at me. "And Matteo? I want to meet him first. If Stefan's staying, if he's going to be part of this world, I need to assess him myself."
Fair enough.
"I'll bring him down in an hour," I said.
"Make it two," Sandro corrected. "I need time to prepare for this conversation."
I left the conference room and went back upstairs.
Stefan was sitting on the bed reading one of the books from the shelf. He looked up when I entered, and I could see the anxiety in his eyes.
"How did it go?" he asked.
"You're staying. Officially." I crossed to him and pulled him close. "Sandro agreed. But he wants to meet you. In two hours."
Stefan went pale. "Meet me?"
"You're part of this now, Stefan. Part of my life. Which means you're part of their lives too. Sandro needs to assess whether that's going to be a problem."
"And if he decides it is?"
"Then we'll deal with it." I kissed his forehead. "But it won't come to that. Sandro's not going to make me choose between you and them. He's too smart for that."
"Because he knows you'd choose me?"
The vulnerability in his voice destroyed me.
"Yes," I admitted. "I'd choose you."
Stefan kissed me. Deep and desperate. Like he was trying to convince himself this was real.
When we broke apart, he said: "What do I say to him? To Sandro?"
"The truth. He'll know if you're lying. He always knows." I held his gaze. "Just be yourself. That's all you need to be."
"I'm not sure who that is anymore."
"Then be whoever you are right now. The Stefan who chose to stay. The Stefan who plays chess and speaks four languages and makes me forget why I should be focused on anything else." I pulled him closer. "That's enough."
***
Two hours later, I brought Stefan down to Sandro's office.
My partner was waiting behind his desk, looking every inch the kingmaker. Perfectly tailored suit. Silver cufflinks. That calculating expression that saw through every lie and weakness.
Stefan's hand tightened on mine.
"Stefan Romano," Sandro said. "Have a seat."
We sat in the chairs facing his desk. I kept hold of Stefan's hand. A clear message: we were a unit now. Whatever Sandro said to Stefan, he was saying to both of us.
Sandro studied Stefan in silence for a long moment. I could see him cataloging everything—Stefan's posture, his clothes (the ones I'd bought him), the way he held himself. Looking for threats. For weaknesses. For reasons this was a terrible idea.
"Matteo tells me you're staying voluntarily," Sandro said finally.
"Yes." Stefan's voice was steady despite the fear I could feel in his grip.
"Why?"
"Because I have nowhere else to go. Because my father's a traitor who sent me here to die.
Because leaving means walking into a death sentence from families who'll target me to get to him.
" Stefan held Sandro's gaze. "And because I choose this.
I choose Matteo. Even though it's fucked up and complicated and probably stupid. "
Sandro's expression didn't change. "You understand what choosing Matteo means? What it means to align yourself with us instead of your family?"
"I understand I'm choosing my family's enemies. That Giuseppe will consider me a traitor. That the other Romanos will probably disown me if they haven't already." Stefan's voice was firm. "I understand all of that. And I'm choosing to stay anyway."
"And if Giuseppe comes for you? If he tries to use you against us?"
"Then I'll deal with it." Stefan's jaw tightened. "I'm not my father. I'm not a rat. Whatever information I have about the Romano family, I'm not trading it to save myself. I just want to be left alone to figure out who I am when I'm not being Giuseppe's pretty trophy."
Sandro was quiet for another long moment. Then he looked at me.
"He can stay," he said. "But the rules we discussed apply. He's your responsibility. Any problems, you handle them."
"Understood."
Sandro's gaze shifted back to Stefan. "You'll be a target. Giuseppe's FBI cooperation makes you valuable to people who want information. The other families may see you as leverage. You need to understand that staying here doesn't mean safety. It means different dangers."
"I understand," Stefan said.
"And you need to understand that Matteo's protection only extends so far. If you betray us—if you're working with your father, if you're feeding information to anyone—there won't be a second chance. Are we clear?"
"I'm not working with anyone." Stefan's voice was hard. "I'm not my father. I don't betray people."
Something shifted in Sandro's expression. Not quite approval, but close.
"Then welcome to Inferno," he said. "Try not to make me regret this."
We left his office. Stefan was shaking slightly.
"That was terrifying," he said once we were in the hallway.
"You did well. Sandro respects honesty. You gave him that."
"He doesn't trust me."
"He doesn't trust anyone. It's nothing personal." I pulled Stefan close. "But he accepted you staying. That's enough for now."
We went back upstairs. Stefan collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"This is real," he said. "I'm really doing this. Staying with my family's enemies. Choosing you over everything I've known."
"You can still change your mind."
"No." He sat up and looked at me. "No, I can't. Even if I wanted to—which I don't—I've already chosen. I met with Sandro. I told him I was staying. There's no taking that back now."
He was right. Crossing that threshold with Sandro made it official. Stefan Romano was no longer Giuseppe's. He was mine.
"Luca suggested we take you down to the club tonight," I said. "Make your presence here public. Let people know you're under my protection."
Stefan's eyes widened. "You want to parade me around the club? What if someone recognizes me?"