Chapter 4

“Why are you always so close to the Don’s son?”

Dominic froze at the sound of Marco’s voice. He was about to open his car when he saw the capo coming out just from behind his car and stood right beside him, one ankle crossed over the other like a man with all the time in the world. The faint glow of his cigarette lit Marco’s rough face, smoke spreading lazily into the night air. His eyes, sharp and calculating, and fixed directly on him.

For a split second, Dominic’s pulse quickened. He adjusted his tie slowly, forcing his expression into the calm mask of a professional lawyer. “Marco,” he said evenly, unlocking his car. “I wasn’t aware I had to explain my every movement to you.” Or are you now my body guard?

Marco leaned off the car, flinging his cigarette to the ground. He stepped closer, too close, the smell of smoke and leather heavy between them. “Maybe not,” Marco said, his voice low, suspicious. “But I’ve been observing. The way you and Matteo move when you talk. The way you look at each other. Too close. Too familiar. I don’t understand it yet, but soon enough I will.”

Dominic kept his face neutral, though his stomach twisted. “You’re just imagining things. I’m his father’s lawyer, stop being delusional. Incase you forgot, I just spend  time with him because of documents, contracts, signatures—nothing more.”

Marco smiled faintly, the kind that didn’t believe a single word. “Maybe. Or maybe not.” He lifted his hand, pointing two fingers at his own eyes, then slowly turned them back to Dominic. “Either way, I’ll keep my eyes on you. Always.”

He stepped back, the sound of his boots scratching against the gravel as he walked away, leaving the night thick with suspicion.

Immediately Marco disappeared around the corner Dominic exhaled, his body collapsing against the his seat inside his car. His hand gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white. Then a thought came uninvited into his head: If Marco keeps poking his nose in my affairs, he’ll ruin everything I’ve dreamt of. Maybe it’s time to get out of the way before he exposes us.

That night, silence spread across the Romano estate. Most of the men had gone to bed, their footsteps and voices gone. But somewhere upstairs, moaning sounds filtered through the heavy walls. Rhythmic. Lustful. Dante was giving Valentina deep back strokes as he held her hands back. She kept moaning, as the strokes went deeper and deeper, she moaned and gasped for breath.

Matteo woke up that midnight in his room, thirsty, his throat dry. He flinged off the sheets, pulling up his sweatpants as he walked quietly to the kitchen for water. But halfway down the wide corridor, the sounds grew louder—his father’s voice, rough and commanding, the sound of his father banging skin to skin, the moan of a woman.

Matteo froze. For a moment, he stood there in shock. His father, Dante Romano, was not a man he ever imagined in such vulnerability. Ruthless, cold, obsessed with power—yes. But sex? Passion? Not like this. Not in years.

Since he lost his mum in the cold hands of his rivals. 

Matteo furrowed his brows as he walked past quickly, avoiding the door. He didn’t even know who the girl was. Another mistress? A pawn? Maybe one of the girls he bought from their parents in debt? He shook his head and went back to his room, the sound echoing in his ears. For once, his father was the one indulging in lustful desire.

But Matteo never imagined his father is fucking the girl he bought and wants to marry her off to him, against his wish.

Morning sunlight spilled through Matteo’s curtains. His phone buzzed on the bedside. He lazily stretched and reached for it, with a smile on his face when he saw the name. “Dom,” he answered, voice still thick with sleep. “Good morning, babe.”

But Dominic’s voice on the other end wasn’t as warm as he was used to. It was sharp, cold. “We have a problem, Matteo. A very huge one. And if we don’t deal with it now, it’ll ruin our lives.”

Matteo sat up straight, suddenly alert. “Come on, don’t start the day like that. Talk to me in a sweet way  first. You know I hate when you sound like my father.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Matteo,” Dominic snapped, his tone sounding so harsh that it silenced him. “This isn’t a game. Meet me at our usual spot. Not my office. Not my apartment. You know our spot.”

Matteo blinked, surprised. “Why not your office?”

“Because I don’t think it’s safe for us anymore,” Dominic said flatly. “Just wait for me there. Now.”

The line went dead before Matteo could argue.

Meanwhile, in Dominic’s office, another storm brewed. His assistant, Jeffrey—a tall, sharp dark guy with a cute smile—stood by the filing cabinet as he arranged files, watching Dominic pace around the office.

“You’ve been stressed out all week, boss,” Jeff said casually, sliding a folder onto Dominic’s desk. “It’s not like you.”

Dominic barely looked at him, flipping through files while looking confused. “It’s business, Jeff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

But Jeffrey lingered. He leaned against the desk, arms crossed, eyes hovering with something more than professional curiosity. He always heard sounds—soft groans and moans sometimes from Dominic’s office, whispers, the creak of furniture that wasn’t meant for paperwork. He had overheard enough once, outside the door, to know his boss’s secret.

Dominic, distracted, didn’t catch the way Jeff’s eyes kept staring at his pants right on his dick, his hands, the tension in his shoulders.

By the time afternoon slid to evening, the office was quieter. Dominic rubbed his jaws, exhaustion creeping into his bones. Jeff entered, carrying a bottle of water.

“You look like hell, boss,” Jeff said lightly, setting the bottle on the desk.

“Just tired,” Dominic muttered, taking it. He drank deeply, letting the cold liquid soothe his dry throat. He rose, crossing the room to get a file from the shelf, but dizziness hit him—his body hit the shelf, knees almost buckling.

Jeff was there instantly, catching him by the arm. “Careful sir,” he said smoothly, his voice softer now. “You push yourself too hard.”

Dominic steadied himself, pulling away slightly. “I’m fine Jeff.”

But Jeff didn’t let go. He stepped closer, his voice low. “You’re not fine. You’re stressed. Worn out. But I can help.”

Dominic frowned. “Jeff—”

Jeff’s hands moved to his belt, fingers brushing against the buckle. “Relax, Daddy,” he whispered, eyes burning with so much desire. “Let me ease your stress.”

Before Dominic could push him away, Jeff was already lowering himself, pulling Dominic’s zipper down, freeing him. As he grabbed his dick, caressing it with his hand and then sliding it into his mouth. The feeling of his mouth was sudden, warm, consuming. Dominic’s head fell back with a groan, soft, he couldn’t hold it back.

The sound filled the room just as his phone buzzed violently on the desk. He reached out blindly, fumbling for it, and froze when he saw the message on the screen.

A photo. Matteo, completely naked holding his dick, sitting on his bed, a teasing smile on his lips.

I miss you so much. I’m coming over to your office now.

Dominic’s chest tightened, panic and desire ran through him. Jeff’s mouth kept sucking his dick gently, relentlessly, as Dominic’s eyes stayed locked on his phone screen. His lover was on his way—straight to his office.

And Dominic was enjoying this particular moment and at the same needed to think fast on how to stop what was about to happen.