Chapter 3

A foot crossed the threshold.For a split second, the figure — a face, a gaze — seemed the person looked directly at them. Matteo felt the weight of that gaze as if it were a physical hand settling on his shoulder.

They freezed like the world’s air itself seemed to wait. Then the footsteps stopped. Breath inhaled. The office was so quiet like a graveyard.

Matteo pressed his forehead to Dominic’s and whispered, scarcely a sound but everything, “What if we’ve been caught?—” 

Dominic’s fingers tightened — not with panic now, but with the small, brutal readiness of a man who would go to any length for the man he loves. “Then we will burn the world down,” he replied with a deep breath.

The door moved again, the figure stepping forward. The cliff took its breath, and the moment ended in a stretch of suspended noise: the quiet of a moment before a judgement.

The office door creaked wider, spilling in the dim hallway light. Matteo froze. Dominic’s hand, still hovering near his sleeve, dropped instantly to his side. The figure stepped in carrying a weight that silenced the air.

Marco.

Dante’s most trusted man. A man with a face carved hard as stone, shoulders broad beneath his tailored black suit, eyes hovered like a hawk on everything he touched. He shut the door behind him, slowly, like he was already suspicious.

For a long second, he kept staring at  Matteo and Dominic standing too close together beside the desk. Papers were scattered across the floor—Matteo’s panicked cover-up. He bent quickly, gathering the documents as if that explained why their bodies leaned toward each other. 

“You’re just too useless to be a lawyer,” he muttered.

Dominic bent too, his professional calm covering the electrifying panic buzzing beneath his skin. His fingers trembled only once, hidden by the shuffle of papers. He straightened with the confidence of a lawyer in his element, not a man who had almost been caught touching his boss’s son emotionally all over his body and kissing him deeply.

Marco’s eyes narrowed. His tone sounded like he was suspicious, like someone who already knew too much.

“So,” Marco said, placing his hands against the desk, “what’s going on here?”

The silence stretched. Matteo’s heart kept pounding in his ear. Dominic inhaled smoothly, his lawyer’s mask settling over him like a weapon.

“I was just going through the contract with him,” Dominic said. His voice was steady, unshaken, but Matteo caught the flicker of his throat as he swallowed. “Matteo needed clarification on the land agreements. The papers scattered all over the floor in the process.”

Marco groaned, unconvinced. He stepped closer, boots clicking against the polished floor. His presence was suffocating.

Then came the questions.

First: “Why does the Don’s son need your help at this hour, when he has his own staff?”

Second: “Why were the lights dimmed? Working on something more than contracts, eh?”

Third: “Tell me, Counselor… do you always stand so close to your clients?”

Each question landed like a knife that kept tossing on the table. Matteo forced himself not to flinch.

Dominic smiled politely, but Matteo could see the strain in it. “Matteo trusts me with delicate matters,” he said. “And as for the lights—perhaps his eyes ache from staring at bright lights all day. I lean close when my clients whisper. Surely, Marco, you’ve seen worse in this office.”

Marco chuckled darkly. He didn’t move for a moment. He lingered, walking around the desk, picking up a stray pen, setting it down again. Every second was torture.

Finally, he straightened. “I don’t understand anything here,” he said, his tone heavy with an unspoken warning. Then dropped the files his boss gave him to drop earlier, flinging it on Dominic’s desk, he walked out, and shut the door slightly and deliberately.

The click of the door slammed a bit, might as well have been thunder.

Matteo took a deep breath, the sound shaky. Dominic’s shoulders dropped, his lawyer’s mask finally cracking. For a moment, they just stared at each other, their breath so fast, realizing how close they had come to exposure.

Then Matteo snapped.

“What the hell was that?” His voice was sharp, a mix of anger and terror. He shoved Dominic back against the desk, his hand pressing against his chest. “What if he saw us? We’d be digging our own graves by now!”

Dominic didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer, his breath warm just on Matteo’s cheek. His whisper was low, intimate, reckless.

“Then let me die with your touch on me.”

The words gave Matteo goose bumps. His anger changed into something else—something intimate, more raw. He shook his head, but Dominic’s hands were already pulling him closer, their foreheads brushing each other, their lips rubbing each other again desperately, their breath so strong.

This kiss wasn’t soft. It was not delicate. It was strong and tasteful and hunger tangled together, the taste of near-death pushing them harder. Dominic’s mouth moved like a man starving, Matteo’s grip like a man drowning.

Matteo tried to push him away again, whispering, “We can’t—” but Dominic silenced him with another kiss, his hand sliding into Matteo’s pants, reaching for his dick while his hands on them gently.

The world outside could crucify them. But in that moment, they kept pressing their bodies against the desk with their hands tightly holding on to each other, it felt worth every risk.

As their kisses deepened,Dominic’s hands moved with deliberate care, rubbing Matteo’s dick softly, then guiding it into his mouth, sucking gently, messy and desperate. Every gasp and groans echoed their unspoken truths, Matteo’s hands brushing Dominic’s head, pulling him closer until no space remained, their bodies pressed tight on Dominic’s desk.

The atmosphere in the office was unreadable, the kind that made the office warm. They grabbed each other like  men running out of time, like everyone around them was about to betray them. When Dominic finally stopped sucking his dick slowly, he stood up, rested his forehead against Matteo’s, their breaths tangling.

“We’re going to get ourselves killed,” Matteo whispered, his voice breaking.

Dominic’s reply was a quiet vow. “Then let them kill me. Because I’ll never let you go.”

The silence between them, heavy and fragile.

Finally, Matteo staggered back, buttoning his shirt, dragging in a breath. He muttered “I need to get home and think, I need a breath of fresh air," and then stormed out of the office. Dominic stood alone, heart beating so fast, his lips were slightly open, knowing that every second they were together only brought them closer to ruin.

That evening, the mansion glowed with golden light. Dinner at Dante Romano’s table has never been a normal one—it was always dramatic, a stage set for power and intimidation. Crystal glasses caught the light, silverware layered in perfect rhythm, servants glided like shadows.

Dominic sat across from Matteo, his face so serious, his mind racing. Dante had summoned him to finalize land contracts, but Dominic couldn’t understand the feeling that maybe Marco had told him something, that the Don knew more than he should.

Matteo sat at Dante’s right, his face covered with the hard mask of a dutiful son. But Dominic saw it—the quick glances, the flash of something unsure  that he couldn’t get before his eyes darted back to his plate.

Dante lifted his glass, his gaze sweeping over them both with something unsure and uncertain. “Loyalty,” he said, his voice soft but lethal, “is what keeps this family alive. Betrayal…” He paused, sipping his wine, “…rots it from the inside.”

The words fell heavy, pressing into Matteo’s chest like iron weights. Dominic’s hand tightened around his fork, knuckles white. He forced himself to smile faintly, responding with some legal phrase about land holdings, twisting the conversation back to safe ground.“Of course, Don,” Dominic said smoothly, his tone controlled. “That’s why every land title we sign is locked under joint ownership—no loopholes, no gaps. Everything is very locked in safely.”

The reply was subtle, almost too casual, but enough to steer the conversation back to business.

Dante smirked, but his eyes never lost their sharpness.

Then, casually, as if making an announcement, he said: “It’s time Matteo receives the woman he deserves. An engagement will be arranged within the week.”

The words slammed into Matteo like a bullet. His chest tightened, his breath caught and he let out a soft cough. Across the table, Dominic nearly lost his composure, almost dropping his glass before looking up at the Don. 

Silence spread across the table amidst them.

But Dante’s eyes lingered. Watching. Weighing.

The meeting ended, but the air was poisoned with tension.

In the corridor outside while Dominic was about leaving, Matteo caught his wrist, dragging him into the shadows between marble pillars. His voice was harsh, desperate.

“I can’t do this. I can’t marry her, Dominic. Not when I have you.”

Dominic’s face was pale, his eyes rolling with fear and love mixed together. He pressed his hand to Matteo’s chest. “Don’t say this here. You’ll expose us both. Open rebellion will kill us faster than silence.”

Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling, the corridor was so quiet.

And then—footsteps from nowhere.

Marco.

He walked past them, his eyes flicking toward them, unreadable. The sound of his boots echoed long after he disappeared around the corner.

Matteo and Dominic remained frozen in the shadows, neither sure if Marco had heard or seen them, or not.

“I love you so much”, Dominic whispered into his ear and headed to his car.