Chapter 18 Matteo #3
Months ago, I caught Stefan infiltrating Inferno and made a choice that changed everything. Chose to keep him. Chose to protect him. Chose to give him sanctuary even when it was risky and complicated and probably insane.
That choice gave me everything. My husband. My future. My happiness.
Maybe Julian deserved the same chance.
"He stays," I said.
"Matteo—" Elio's voice was sharp with warning. "This is a mistake. A massive, dangerous mistake. The Bianchi family is powerful. Winston Bianchi doesn't tolerate defiance. If he finds out we're harboring his son—"
"Temporarily," I cut in. "Julian stays temporarily while we assess what kind of heat this brings. If the Bianchi family comes looking and it puts us at risk, we'll revisit. But for now, we're helping him."
"You're making this decision based on sentiment. On your feelings for Stefan. Not on strategic assessment." Elio's voice was cold. "That's dangerous. Especially right now when we should be cautious."
"Noted. But it's my call and I'm making it.
" I turned to Julian. "You can stay. Same room Stefan originally had—second floor, down the hall.
You don't leave the building without permission.
You don't contact anyone from your family.
You work with Stefan on the books to earn your keep.
And if your family comes looking and it puts us at risk, this arrangement ends. Clear?"
"Crystal clear." Julian's relief was palpable. His shoulders dropped slightly. "Thank you. I—thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. You might regret this decision." I gestured to the door. "Stefan will show you to your room. Get dried off. We'll talk more tomorrow about how this works."
Stefan moved toward Julian. "Come on. Let's get you settled."
Julian followed Stefan out. I watched them go—my husband helping another desperate young man the same way I'd once helped Stefan.
The door closed. Elio and I were alone.
"This is a mistake," Elio said. His voice was tight with controlled anger. "You're letting sentiment override strategy. That's dangerous for all of us."
"Maybe. But it's the right mistake." I moved toward the door. "Get me everything you can on the Bianchi family. Winston Bianchi specifically. And this Dante Caruso Julian's supposed to marry. I want to know what we're dealing with."
"Already working on it." Elio's jaw was tight. "But Matteo—if this blows up, if the Bianchi family comes for us, if this starts a war—it's on you."
"I know. And I'll handle it."
I left him standing there. Furious. Worried. Right about the risk but wrong about the decision.
Some things were worth the risk.
Stefan had been worth it. Maybe Julian would be too.
***
Back in our apartment, Stefan said: "Elio's going to fall hard."
I looked at him. "What?"
"For Julian. I saw how he was looking at him." Stefan smiled slightly. "The same way you looked at me at that auction."
"Elio doesn't fall for people. He's too controlled for that."
"You were too controlled for that too. Until you weren't." Stefan pulled me close. "Trust me. Elio's going to fall hard. He just doesn't know it yet."
"Maybe Julian will be lucky like you were."
"Lucky?" Stefan laughed. "I got kidnapped by an obsessive enforcer who kept me locked up."
"And now you're married to that obsessive enforcer. So yes, lucky."
"Fair point." He kissed me. "If Elio's anything like you, Julian doesn't stand a chance."
"Good. The kid needs someone to fight for him the way I fought for you."
We headed to bed. Our bed. In our apartment. As husbands.
Our story started with desperation and captivity. Ended with freedom and choice and happiness.
Maybe Julian and Elio's would too.
But that was their story to write.
Stefan and I had already written ours.
And it had a happy ending.
***
ELIO
I stood in my office after they'd all left.
The security monitors showed Julian in his room—the same room Stefan had once occupied. Julian was stripping off his wet clothes. Trying to dry off with the towels someone had left for him. His movements were efficient but his hands shook.
I told myself I was just monitoring a potential threat. Assessing the situation. Cataloging details that might be relevant later.
Professional evaluation. Nothing more.
But I couldn't look away.
Julian Bianchi. Twenty-one. Sharp dark eyes. Educated bearing. Five years of planning an escape, which meant strategic thinking and patience. Columbia degree, which meant ambition.
And something else. Something in the way he moved. The way he held himself. The careful control that spoke of someone who'd learned to be conscious of every gesture. Every expression. Every moment.
I knew that kind of control. Recognized it.
Julian was running from more than just an arranged marriage. There was something deeper. Something darker. Something that made a twenty-one-year-old plan an escape for five years and finally risk everything to run.
I should send him away. Should convince Matteo this was too dangerous. Should eliminate the threat before it became a problem.
But I couldn't stop watching the monitors.
On screen, Julian finally sat on the bed. Put his face in his hands. His shoulders shook slightly—crying, maybe, or just releasing the adrenaline and terror of running.
Something unwanted stirred in my chest.
Recognition. Awareness. Interest.
I told myself it was just strategic evaluation. Julian was a complication that needed managing. A problem that would be resolved quickly. A temporary situation until his family came looking or the risk became too great.
I told myself Julian was nothing like Stefan—Stefan was kept by Matteo because Matteo wanted him. This was different. This was strategic. Professional.
I told myself I felt nothing except concern about the danger Julian represented.
But I couldn't look away from the monitors.
Couldn't stop wondering what Julian was running from. What had happened when he was sixteen that made him plan an escape for five years.
Couldn't stop noticing the intelligence and courage it took to throw himself at the mercy of his family's rivals.
Couldn't stop seeing the fear Julian was trying so hard to hide.
On the monitor, Julian lay down on the bed. Still wearing damp clothes. Curled into himself like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. Like he'd learned to make himself small.
Something cracked in my chest. Something I didn't want to feel. Something I knew better than to acknowledge.
This was a mistake. A massive, dangerous mistake.
Julian Bianchi was a complication we didn't need. A risk we shouldn't take. A problem that would likely blow up in our faces.
I should walk away. Should delegate monitoring to someone else. Should treat Julian like any other potential threat—assess, manage, eliminate if necessary.
But I knew I wouldn't.
Not yet.
Maybe not at all.
I watched Julian finally fall asleep on the bed. Exhausted. Terrified. Alone in a strange place surrounded by people who could hurt him.
Julian Bianchi was going to be a problem.
But not the kind I'd anticipated.
I turned off the monitors. Sat at my desk. Started pulling files on the Bianchi family.
Professional evaluation. That was all this was.
I was lying to myself.
But I was good at that.
I'd spent years perfecting the art of control. Of managing threats. Of eliminating problems before they could explode.
Julian Bianchi was a problem.
But for the first time in a very long time, I didn't want to eliminate it.
Not yet.
Maybe not at all.
I pulled up the files and started reading.
Just professional evaluation.
Nothing more.
The lie tasted bitter even as I told it to myself.
END OF BOOK 2: THE SAVAGE