Caught in the Act

 4: 

Luca Mariani POV

"Relax, I'm five minutes away."

I shifted the phone between my shoulder and ear as I steered with one hand, the city lights streaking past my windshield in bright streaks. Almost immediately traffic cleared as horns blared in the distance, music from a passing car rattling my windows before fading behind me.

"You don't have to rush," Alessandro said softly. I could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm ready."

"I don't rush," I said, smirking at the road ahead. "I come in grand style."

He laughed softly. "Okay, Luca."

"I'll see you in a minute," I said, and hung up before he could say anything else.

I pulled up in front of his building. It was one of those old, expensive townhouses converted into private apartments. Warm yellow lights glowed behind tall windows. Everywhere was clean and quiet.

I stepped out, adjusting my jacket, checking my reflection in the car window. Perfect.

The front door opened before I knocked. Alessandro stood there in a simple fitted shirt and dark trousers, effortlessly put together without appearing to have tried. No fuss, but still striking.

And for half a second, I forgot whatever clever line I'd planned.

"You look…" I cleared my throat. "Wow."

He ducked his head slightly, a faint colour rising at the back of his neck. "You clean up nice too."

"I always look good. You just caught me on a generous day."

He rolled his eyes and stepped aside. "Come in for a second. I need to grab my—"

"Sure."

I followed him inside.

The house smelled faintly of coffee and had soft lighting. Minimal decor with everything in its place.

Slowly, my eyes scanned the hallway.

And suddenly, I felt an awareness. That pressure at the back of your neck when someone's watching you.

I looked up.

He was standing at the end of the corridor.

"Alessandro. Breakfast? You're not leaving here till you've had breakfast." Matteo's dark, thick voice sounded across the room.

Matteo had no suit jacket this time, just a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled once at the forearms. But he still looked devastating in that controlled, effortless way that probably came naturally to men who never had to try.

His gaze moved over me slowly, taking in my clothes, my stance, the way I stood just a little too casually in his house.

I held his stare, refusing to shift first.

Alessandro's voice floated from another room. "I'll just be a minute!"

Matteo's jaw tightened slightly as neither of us looked away. And by his sudden change in expression I knew he recognised me. Of course.

I gave him a half-smile. The kind that said ‘you can't control me’ without using a single word. His expression didn't change. But his fingers flexed once at his side.

Alessandro came back, oblivious to the silent war happening between us. "Brother Matteo, I had breakfast. I'm good." Then he leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Ready!" he said, turning towards my direction.

I looked at him, a smile sliding back into place. "After you."

As we walked out, I could feel Matteo's eyes on my back the entire time.

And for the first time, I had the strange feeling I wasn't walking away from him.

{—}

Lunch was easy. Maybe a little too easy.

Soft lights, clinking glasses, quiet music playing overhead. Alessandro talked about work, about a book he was reading, about a café he wanted me to try with him sometime.

I nodded at the right times and smiled too. Also, I reached across the table to squeeze his hand.

"I mean it," I said, leaning forward slightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

His eyes shimmered. "Even with… everything?"

I knew who he meant; his brother. 

I shrugged. "Your brother doesn't get to decide your life. I'm here because I want to be."

And in that moment, I almost believed myself.

He wiped the corner of his eye, laughing softly. "You make it sound so simple. You need to see the number he has scared away from me."

"It is simple," I said smoothly. "There's no scaring me, okay? You and me. That's it."

"Okay," he said, muffling a laugh against a tear. His hand stayed in mine as he leaned his head briefly against my shoulder.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice whispered that I was laying it on too thick.

But I pushed that voice down.

"Isn't this my specialty?"

{—}

By the time I dropped him back home, the sky had gone fully dark. "I had a really good time," he said quietly at the door.

"Of course you did," I teased gently. "You were with me."

He laughed and stepped closer, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. "Goodnight, Luca."

"Night, Alessandro."

I watched him go inside, the door closing after him. And just like that, the warmth faded.

I checked my phone; Two missed calls, one text.

_”You still coming? I'm at your apartment.”_

I smirked.

_”Yeah.”_

Of course I'm coming to you.

{—}

My apartment was chill, a little bigger than a self-con. My curtains half drawn, the air smelling of my cologne and something else that didn't belong to me.

He was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, dark hair pushed back carelessly, arms folded like he'd been waiting too long and wanted me to know it.

"Took you long enough," he said with a playful pout.

"Worth the wait," I replied, tossing my jacket onto a chair. "You don't want to keep me waiting any longer, do you?"

He stepped closer, hands sliding up my chest, his mouth tracing my neckline. His lips brushed mine and I pulled him close, his shirt warm under my hands.

My phone buzzed once on the nightstand but I ignored it. Things escalated fast the way they always did with him easy, uncomplicated, no weight to it.

That was exactly why I was here.

Suddenly, the door exploded inward with a deafening crack against the wall. I froze as men flooded into the room dressed in black, a mafia crest visible at the right side of their chests.

He scrambled off the bed immediately, grabbing his clothes with shaking hands. "What the hell is this?!" he cried, bolting past the men and out the door without looking back.

"The Rossi Mafia crest?”

"What do I have to do with the Rossi Mafia—"

Then Matteo walked in, dangerous-looking men filing in behind him. It struck me all at once. *Matteo Rossi.*

I sat up slowly, heart pounding, but forced a smirk. "You always make dramatic entrances?"

He stopped a few feet from the bed, eyes colder than I'd ever seen them. His gaze dropped briefly to the rumpled sheets before finding its way back to my face.

One of his men shut the ruined door behind them. The lock hung crooked, splintered wood scattered across the floor.

“Ugh. Not Good.”

"We meet again, Luca Mariani."

"You told my brother you cared about him," he said, with a slight humourless chuckle.

"I do."

His eyes snapped back to mine, sharp. "You don't even know what that word means."

I stood, slow and deliberate, like I wasn't half dressed and surrounded. "You dragged me to a warehouse to threaten me. Now you're stalking me in my own room. It's starting to feel like you're the one with boundary issues."

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

Behind him, his men stood like soldiers. They just watched, hands folded in front of them like statues in black suits. And somehow I knew this was strictly Matteo's mission, personally. 

Matteo stepped closer, shoes silent against the carpet. "You still think this is about pride."

"Isn't it?"

"It's about damage," he said. "You leave it everywhere you go."

I let out a dry laugh. "Your brother isn't made of glass, is he?”

"No," he agreed. "He's not." And the way he said it made my chest tighten.

"I'm not afraid of you—"

"Good. I prefer you broken instead." Matteo's voice was quiet, but it echoed through the room.

He stared at me for a while, at the surroundings and at his men. When he was done he said evenly, “Is this your version of seriousness?."

I didn't answer. This was certainly not the time for jokes or sass.

"Anyway. You should have listened," He said with his deep gravelly voice. And that scared me more than the men behind him ever could. More than anything I had encountered in the past. 

"Punishment. Shall we?," Matteo asked, this time moving towards me. He stepped closer and ripped open my half-buttoned shirt.

"If other men can have you," he added quietly, "Why can't I?"

I froze. "You—"

"You have two choices," Matteo said, undoing his cufflinks and pushing me back toward the bed. “Choose wisely.”

"One: take your pants off. Let me see what you used on my brother."

"Two: I call Alessandro and have him come watch what I do to you."

"You're insane," I snapped. "Does your brother know you're a fucking pervert?"

"He doesn't need to," Matteo said, his hand settling on my belt.

"He only needs to know you betrayed him." He said as my buckle clicked open.

"And now, La mia bambola ( My Doll).” Matteo continued softly, "You're about to learn what consequences really mean."