Chapter 14 Matteo
Unknown number. Burner phone, probably. The message was short and direct: Send Romano's son home or he dies.
I stared at it for a long moment, Stefan asleep beside me, his breathing slow and even. My first instinct was to wake him. Show him. Let him know what we were dealing with.
My second instinct—the one I followed—was to delete it and double security without saying anything.
I told myself I was protecting him. Keeping him from worrying unnecessarily. It was probably just some idiot trying to stir up trouble. Not worth disrupting Stefan's sleep over a vague threat from a coward who wouldn't even use their real number.
But I couldn't fall back asleep. I lay there watching Stefan breathe and planning. More guards. Tighter security protocols. Maybe I'd keep Stefan inside the building for a few days. Just until I figured out who'd sent the message and eliminated the threat.
The second message came two days later.
This time it was specific. Detailed. Terrifying.
We know he works on your books. Third office on the left, second floor. He drinks coffee at 10 AM and 2 PM. Very predictable. Very vulnerable. Last chance - send him home.
I read it three times. My hands were shaking.
They knew too much. Stefan's routine. His office location. His schedule. The kind of detail that required surveillance. Planning. Intent.
This wasn't a random threat. This was someone serious.
I forwarded the message to Elio with a single word: Trace this.
Then I went to find Stefan.
He was in his office reviewing quarterly projections, coffee cup in hand exactly like the threat had described. The vulnerability of it made rage burn through my chest.
"We're leaving," I said from the doorway.
Stefan looked up, startled. "What?"
"Now. Pack your things. We're going to a safe house."
His expression shifted from confused to wary. "Matteo, what's going on?"
"I'll explain in the car. Pack. Now."
To his credit, Stefan didn't argue. He saw something in my face—fear, probably, or barely controlled violence—and just nodded. Closed his laptop. Grabbed his jacket.
I packed. Called ahead to the safe house. Arranged for additional security. All within the fifteen minutes it took Stefan to grab his things.
The drive out of the city was tense and silent. Stefan kept looking at me, waiting for explanation. I kept my eyes on the road and my gun within easy reach.
The safe house was an hour north. A cabin technically, but fortified like a bunker. Sandro had bought it years ago as an emergency location. Reinforced doors. Security system. Weapons cache in the basement.
Somewhere we could disappear if everything went to hell.
I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. We climbed out.
"Matteo." Stefan's voice was tight. "Tell me what's happening. Right now."
I pulled out my phone and showed him the message.
He read it. Went pale. Read it again.
"When did you get this?" he asked quietly.
"First one two days ago. This one this morning."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I was handling it."
"By keeping me in the dark? By making decisions about my safety without telling me I was even in danger?" His voice rose. "Matteo, these threats are about me. I had a right to know."
"I was protecting you—"
"By lying to me?" He shoved my phone back at me. "Is this going to be our pattern? Every time there's danger, you just lock me away and don't tell me why?"
"I'm trying to keep you safe."
"I know. But I'm not a child. I'm not something fragile you need to shield from reality." He took a breath, visibly trying to calm himself. "Show me the message again."
I handed him the phone. He read more carefully this time.
"They know my routine," he said. "My schedule. Where I work. That means surveillance. Someone's been watching me for at least a few days. Maybe longer." He looked at me. "Do you think my family sent these?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Or it could be someone else trying to provoke a war between the Romanos and Vitales while we're both distracted by the trial."
"Either way, I'm the target." Stefan handed back my phone. "This is my fault. Being here is putting everyone at risk."
"No—"
"It is." His voice was firm. "If I wasn't here, you wouldn't be getting threats. The Vitales wouldn't be exposed to whatever this is. Maybe I should—" He stopped. Swallowed hard. "Maybe I should leave. Go somewhere far away. Make myself scarce until the trial's over and this dies down."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"Absolutely not."
"Matteo—"
"No." I grabbed his hand. Held tight. "You're not leaving. You're not going anywhere. We're dealing with this together."
"You can't watch me every second of every day. Eventually someone will get through. And when they do—" His voice cracked. "When they do, you'll be right there. You'll put yourself between me and the threat. You'll get hurt trying to protect me."
"I don't care—"
"I care!" Stefan pulled his hand away. "I care that being with me makes you a target.
That protecting me could get you killed.
I can't live with that responsibility, Matteo.
I can't—" He pressed his hands to his face.
"Maybe they're right. Maybe I should go home.
Back to Giuseppe. At least then you'd be safe. "
Rage and fear warred in my chest.
"You're not going back to that man. Ever. I don't care what threats come. I don't care what danger you think you're bringing. You're mine and I'm keeping you." I moved closer. "Stefan, look at me."
He did. His eyes were wet.
"I would rather die protecting you than live safely without you," I said. "That's not negotiable. That's not up for discussion. So if you're thinking about leaving to keep me safe, stop. Because I'm not letting you go."
"That's exactly the problem." His voice was raw. "You're willing to die for me. And I can't—I can't be the reason you—" He broke off. Turned away. "This is insane. We're insane. I should leave before this gets worse."
"No."
"Matteo—"
"I said no." I grabbed his shoulders. Turned him to face me.
"You want to leave? Fine. Tell me you don't want to be here anymore.
Tell me you're done with this. With us. Tell me you regret choosing me.
And I'll let you go. But don't you dare leave because you think it's safer for me.
Don't sacrifice what we have because you're trying to protect me from choices I'm making with full awareness of the consequences. "
"You're not being rational—"
"I've never been rational about you. Not since the moment I caught you in that office.
Not since I decided to keep you instead of sending you back or killing you or doing any of the smart, strategic things I should have done.
" I pulled him closer. "I'm obsessed with you, Stefan.
Completely. Irrationally. In ways that probably make me a terrible partner and definitely make me a liability to the Vitales. But I don't care. You matter more."
"I shouldn't matter more than your safety—"
"But you do." I cupped his face. "You do. And if that scares you, if that's too much, tell me now. But don't run because you think I don't understand the risks. I understand them perfectly. I'm choosing you anyway."
We stared at each other.
Stefan's jaw was tight. His eyes fierce. "This is so fucked up."
"I know."
"We're going to get each other killed."
"Probably."
"And you don't care?"
"Not even a little."
He kissed me. Hard. Desperate. Angry and scared and something else I couldn't name.
When we broke apart, he said: "Fine. I'll stay. But if you die protecting me, I'm going to be furious."
"Noted."
We went inside.
***
The safe house was small. One bedroom. One bathroom. A kitchen and living area that were basically the same space. Cozy was a generous description. Cramped was more accurate.
We'd been living together for weeks, but we'd always had work as a buffer. The club operations. Stefan's financial projects. My security concerns. Meetings and obligations and people around us constantly.
Here, there was nothing. No work. No distractions. No escape from each other or the reality of what we were facing.
The first night was tense. We made dinner in awkward silence. Ate at the small table. Cleaned up without talking much.
"How long do we have to stay here?" Stefan asked finally.
"Until Elio traces the threats and we know what we're dealing with."
"That could take days."
"Probably."
Stefan looked around the small space. "Days. In a cabin. Just us. With nothing to do."
"Is that a problem?"
"I don't know." He met my eyes. "We've never done this. Been alone together for days with no buffers. What if we run out of things to talk about? What if we get sick of each other?"
"Then we'll deal with it." I pulled him close. "We've survived worse than awkward silences, Stefan."
But he was right to worry.
By the second day, the enforced intimacy was making things I'd been avoiding impossible to ignore.
We were sitting on the couch—the only furniture besides the bed—when Stefan asked: "How far would you actually go?"
"What?"
"For me. To keep me safe. You say you'd die for me, but would you leave the Vitales? Walk away from everything you've built? Choose me over Sandro and the others if it came to that?"
The question felt like a trap.
"I don't know," I admitted. "The Vitales are my family. Sandro saved me when I had nothing. Gave me purpose. Made me a partner instead of just muscle. I owe him everything."
"But?"
"But you're—" I struggled for words. "You're different. Essential in ways I can't explain. When I think about my life without the Vitales, it's sad. Difficult. A loss. When I think about my life without you, it's—" I stopped. "Empty. Impossible. Not worth living."
Stefan was quiet for a moment. "That's terrifying."
"I know."
"We've only been together a few months. And you're saying you'd choose me over people who've been your family for twelve years?"