THREE

MATTEO

{Two Weeks Ago}

The bass from the high dimension speakers hit me the moment I stepped in.

Around me, the lights flashed different colours: red, blue, violet—then again.

The air was heavy with the smell of sweat, perfume, cologne and alcohol.

I adjusted the large cap of the black hoodie which I wore low on my head.

The gay bar was crowded, dark and loud in a way that made me feel safe.

Faces blurred together on the dance floor with no one looking too closely.

I liked it like this, no one recognizing me in different clothes and a different posture.

This was another version of me.

The wig I had on itched badly as the colored contacts caused my eyes to water.

But my disguise was necessary.

I could not risk anyone recognizing me, Vittorio Leone's disappointment of a son, in a place such as this.

I didn't want to be the useless son here, just another stranger looking for a drink.

Maybe a hard fuck too.

I made my way to the counter where my order for a drink was answered quickly.

I lifted the glass to my lips, downed it all before I slumped against the counter.

"Another glass," I instructed the bartender, pushing my empty glass forward.

He refilled it without comment.

I picked it up and downed about half of it immediately, welcoming the burn.

My father's words from earlier was still echoing rent free in my head.

"University? For what, Matteo?" He had snapped the moment I had spoken.

"The acceptance—"

A hiss had left his lips and I had stopped talking, staring straight into his eyes.

"You want to do this so you can waste more of my money on useless dreams?"

His eyes had narrowed.

"Painting is not a useless dream!" I had defended, throat tight with emotions.

His eyes had widened at my words.

A scoff left his lips as he turned away from me, gripping the desk in disbelief.

My stomach had churned watching him.

When he had finally turned back to me, my heart rate had instantly skyrocketed.

He had lifted his brows.

"You want to paint?!"

I watched as his jaw clenched.

I took a step back, overwhelmed by the anger lurking under his voice.

"Matteo, artists starve because they are useless, like you!" He sneered.

I spoke despite the rage in his eyes and the tension visible in his neck chords.

"Not the talented ones!" I yelled. "And at least not with this kind of opportunity."

He had taken a step back, wide eyed at my unexpected outburst I presumed.

Then he had laughed.

The sound was cold and mocking, seeping into my bloodstream like poison.

"Talent? You?"

He sounded so disgusted.

My face fell.

He took a step forward, and then another till he was standing inches from me.

"Look Matteo, I don't know what strings you pulled to get this opportunity. But, you're too worthless to have potentials."

The words were a slap to my face.

My breathing quickened, slowly becoming ragged with each passing minute.

"You aren't even worth the investment to me," he said while pushing my forehead backwards with his fingers.

I swallowed hard.

My heart constricted and I reached up to hold my chest and soothe it physically.

Tears gathered in my eyes, fast, threatening to fall while I struggled to hold on.

"I won't be financing any of your delusions when I know you will only embarrass me."

Then, he had taken a step back, snatched the envelope from my hand and ripped it in half.

"No! No!" I had screamed.

In that moment, it had felt as if he was destroying every dream I had.

I had instantly fallen to my knees, grasping at the pieces that fell to the floor.

The tears I had been fighting freed itself in the chaos, running down my cheeks.

Frantically, I had gathered the pieces of paper closer, trying to fix them.

I heard him snicker.

"Matteo," he had began while looking down at me with lowered brows.

I had met his gaze from below.

"You'll stay here with me and try to make yourself useful for once. Though, I doubt you would even be capable of that."

My entrance paper to the University of Arts was now patched, sitting in my pocket.

The torn paper didn't bother me cause my acceptance was already confirmed.

But it didn't matter now.

Father had made sure of that.

No funding from him meant there would no school and no future for me.

It would be just this haunted house and his unbridged contempt until I rotted.

I raised my glass again to my lips and quietly swallowed the memory.

The liquor burned all the way through my oesophagus down to my stomach.

“Another?” the bartender asked with a glance at my empty glass.

I nodded.

He refilled it without a word.

This time, I drank the liquid much slower.

My head started to feel light after the third glass, and much lighter after the ninth.

The tension which had been embedded in my shoulders began to melt away.

Suddenly, I began to see the world soften into a bed of roses and lilies.

Then, I felt it—eyes on me, watching me as the hairs at my nape stood on end.

I froze completely.

I glanced over my shoulder.

But I saw no one.

Still, that feeling persisted, like a weight pressing down in my back.

Someone was definitely watching me.

My heart rose to my throat at the possibility that one of my father's men might have followed me here.

I held my breath, my eyes darting around as my eyes carefully scanned the dim space.

But my gaze moved past face after face in the fairly lit bar until they snagged on a figure right across the room.

A light bulb went off in my head.

The gaze I felt, it was from him—the man sitting alone in a shadowed booth.

I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply, relieved it wasn't my father's men.

But when I opened them back, that man, his eyes were still fixed on me.

I swallowed hard.

Even from this distance, his eyes were a vivid yet piercing emerald green.

His gaze never wavered, holding on, sharp enough to cut diamond if he tried.

They locked onto mine and everything else in the bar blurred into bleariness.

The music faded from my ears just as all the people present there disappeared.

Now there was only him and the weight of his stare burning through me.

Heat rushed through every single corner of me until I was oversaturated.

My body burned as the intensity of his emerald eyes aroused me.

There was something about him that just felt dangerous in a predatory way.

His eyes slowly checked me out, causing sensations to bombard me.

It felt like he was sizing me up and deciding whether I was worth the hunt.

I should have looked away.

I should have forfeited.

But I couldn't.

At least not when my body was screaming with need, for his attention.

Instead, I turned and downed the rest of the drink in my hand before I stood.

My feet carried me across the room before my brain could convince me otherwise.

His gaze didn't leave me as I approached him, following every step I took.

My pulse was racing, heart pounding hard with anticipation against my ribs cage by the time I reached his dark booth.

He was devastatingly gorgeous up close with sharp jaw and pointed nose.

His long raven black hair was styled perfectly into neat cornrows.

He possessed the kind of face that belonged on the covers of fashion magazines.

Everything about him screamed power and control with nothing soft in sight.

"May I sit?" I asked.

His lips curved into a slow smile.

"You may sit..."

His gaze dropped deliberately to his lap.

"...wherever you like," he finished.

Heat flooded my face because the subtle double entendre wasn't lost on ne.

I tried to steady my breathing as I slipped into the seat directly across from him.

His eyes languidly roamed over me, slow and thorough as if he was memorizing every detail about me.

The air between us crackled with a tension so thick I could almost touch it.

He leaned back with one arm stretched along the back of the booth.

He looked completely at ease and my body swiftly in responded to that dominance in ways that made flustered me.

I'd never felt anything like this.

This pull.

This heat.

Desire simmered underneath me as I admired his full luscious lips.

He followed my gaze with a smirk, biting his bottom lips in amusement.

"When are you going to kiss me?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Now or later?"

His eyes darkened.

My stomach began to do the butterfly thing after a sharp intake of breath.

He lifted his half empty glass to his lips and drained the liquor in one smooth motion without breaking eye contact.

Then he rose to his feet.

I gasped.

He was massive, standing at least seven foot two inches—maybe taller—with broad shoulders and solid muscles.

If I had been standing, I might have fallen with the way my knees grew weak.

My chest heaved as he moved towards me with that predatory grace.

When he reached me, he leaned down and I could smell his musky cologne.

I saw the dark tattoos sprawled on his skin through his unbuttoned shirt.

The intricate designs crawled down his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt.

His hand reached out to stroke through my hair, gentle despite his size.

My eyes fell shut at the electrifying feeling his fingers against my skin produced.

I moaned softly.

"Be patient, my sweet," he whispered. "Good things come to only those who wait."

I opened my eyes.

He was staring straight into my soul that I almost forgot how to speak.

"Patience can be—"

I didn't see him move.

His mouth crashed over mine, instantly swallowing the rest of my sentence.

The kiss was fierce and possessive.

My entire body ignited.

It had been so long since I had felt anything this intense, this consuming.

Just a kiss and I was already coming apart, already desperate for more.

My body was begging to be fucked, treated like a slut and pounded into nothing.

I wanted him to take me apart.

I need him to use me, to make me forget everything except this moment.

My cock instantly grew hard, straining painfully against my trousers.

When he pulled back with his breath still warm against my lips, my face fell.

My body instantly missed his lips.

"Are you ready for me to fuck you?" He asked with raised brows.

"Yes," I answered without hesitation, not even a thought behind it.

Before I could process what was happening, strong arms hooked under my knees and wrapped around my back.

All six foot two of me was being lifted by him like I weighed nothing, cradling me bridal style against his chest.

He looked down at me.

I swallowed.

"You can't back out after now."

I nodded, my arms reaching up and wrapping itself around his neck.

As he started moving, a single thought subtly cut through my haze of desire.

I had this weird feeling I might have just encountered someone I shouldn't have.