5

Aiden groaned and stormed out of the lounge. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared up at them. The bedrooms were probably up there. But choosing a room upstairs would only keep him closer to the boss, and he refused that. 

He refused to make this easy for the man who'd basically bought him like he was some kind of object, regardless of the help he could provide or not.

He turned away sharply and started searching the ground floor instead. He passed a dining room with a table that could seat twenty people. Then a study with walls lined with books that probably cost more than everything he had ever owned. Finally, at the far end of the lobby, he opened a random door.

A guest room. Small, at least compared to everything else in this place. A bed, a dresser, a window with heavy curtains.

Good enough.

He stepped inside and locked the door behind him, even though he knew it probably wouldn't keep anyone out if they really wanted in.

He was angry. So angry his hands were shaking. And frustrated. Frustrated that his niece was still missing and he was trapped here playing games with a man who clearly had too much power and not enough conscience.

He kept staring at the lights in the ceiling, and whispered a prayer under his breath. Please let her be safe. 

The exhaustion hit him all at once, his eyes got heavy. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

As sleep crept in, slow and unavoidable, he made a promise to himself. He would go back in time… and fix everything. 

***** 

Aiden woke up with a start, his heart pounding and sweat soaking through his shirt. The nightmares had been brutal. Everything from yesterday playing out again and again. His father's cold body. 

For one blissful second, he thought maybe it had all been a terrible, horrible dream.

Then he opened his eyes and saw the unfamiliar ceiling. The expensive furniture. The locked door.

He was still held captive.

It was all real.

He pulled the pillow over his face and groaned, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now.

He stayed in the room for hours. Refusing to leave. Refusing to face the boss.

But then his stomach growled. Loud and angry, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. He tried to ignore it, but it growled again, even louder this time.

"Damn it," he muttered.

He couldn't hide in here forever.

He got up, ran his hands through his messy hair, and unlocked the door. The hallway was quiet. He walked slowly toward the main part of the house, listening for any sound of movement.

When he stepped into the open living area, he froze.

The boss was at the bar. Shirtless. Seated on a tall stool with one leg crossed over the other, holding a small glass of what was unmistakably alcohol in his hand.

Aiden's eyes trailed over him before he could stop himself. Tattoos lined Vito's chest, his arms, his shoulders. Some looked like words, others were symbols, designs that probably meant something he'd never understand. His muscles were defined, his skin tan like he spent time in the sun despite looking like the kind of person who never left the dark.

Aiden swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. He couldn't afford to be distracted. This man was obviously dangerous. 

Vito rose from the stool, moving with an easy confidence that made Aiden's skin prickle. He walked toward him, slow and deliberate, like a predator approaching prey.

"Are you done gawking?" Vito asked, his voice smooth and low. "Or do you need me to give you a private room so you can stare longer?"

Aiden felt his face go hot. "I wasn't–"

"Bet." Vito interrupted, stepping closer.

Aiden shifted back instinctively, but Vito only closed the distance. Before Aiden could react, Vito's hands stretched out and grabbed his neck. He angled his head up so Aiden had no choice but to meet Vito's gaze.

"Are those real?" Vito asked, his eyes locked on Aiden's.

"What?" Aiden's voice came out breathless.

"Your blue eyes. Are they real, or are you wearing fucking lenses?"

Aiden shook his head quickly, the words caught in his throat. The boss was so close. Too close. He could feel the heat coming off his skin. Could smell the faint scent of alcohol on his breath.

Vito stared at him for another long moment, his thumb brushing lightly against Aiden's jaw. Then, finally, he released him and turned back to the counter.

Aiden sucked in a breath, his heart racing.

Vito picked up a stack of papers and a pen and walked back over. He held them out.

"Sign," Vito said.

Aiden took the papers with shaking hands and looked down at them. It was a contract. Pages of terms and conditions. Words like "exclusivity" and "obedience" and "ownership" jumped out at him.

He looked up at Vito, disbelief written all over his face. "You're serious about this."

Vito took a sip of his drink, his expression unreadable. "Do I look like I joke?"

"This is insane," Aiden said, his voice rising. "You can't just–"

Vito said simply. "I can. Now sign."

Aiden stared down at the contract again. His hands were trembling. He looked back at the boss. He knew he could keep him here forever against his will, the papers were just for things to dawn on him that he now belonged to someone.

He might as well put a stamp on his forehead. Aiden flinched at the thought, he would rather sign the papers.

He swallowed hard and made himself speak. "One hour."

Vito raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I want one hour to myself. Every day."

Vito scoffed and took another sip. "You're negotiating now?"

"Yes," Aiden said, forcing himself to sound more confident than he felt. "One hour. That's all I'm asking."

Vito studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. Then he shrugged. "Fine. One hour. But don't make any other requests. I'm not in the mood to play games."

He grabbed the papers from Aiden's hands, scribbled something at the bottom, and shoved them back.

"Sign the fucking papers," Vito said.

Aiden looked down at the new line Vito had added. One hour of personal time per day. Guaranteed.

It wasn't much. But it was something.

He picked up the pen and signed his name at the bottom. 

And just like that, he belonged to another man.

Vito didn't waste a single second. The moment Aiden set the pen down, he moved. His hands grabbed Aiden's waist and lifted him onto the counter like he weighed nothing.

Aiden's first instinct was to push him away. His hands came up to Vito's chest, ready to shove, but then something inside him shifted. Vito moved closer until his lips brushed Aiden’s ear. 

“You are mine now. Got it?” 

Aiden shook his head. Every hair on his body stood on end, but he refused to belong to the boss that way. 

But before he could think, Vito’s lips closed over his. He tasted alcohol on his lips. Something dark and bitter. It mixed with the heat of his mouth, the way his tongue moved against Aiden's.

It was not like anything he'd ever experienced before.

It felt wrong. And yet it felt so fucking right.

When Vito finally pulled back, there was a low chuckle in his throat. His eyes were dark, amused, satisfied.

Aiden bit his lip, his face burning with embarrassment. He had given in easily to the boss' touch and he knew it.

Vito stepped back and picked up his drink again, like they were having a casual chitchat. "Some street bastard named Matteo killed your father."

The words hit Aiden like a punch to the gut. All the heat from the kiss vanished instantly, replaced by cold shock.

"What?" Aiden whispered.

"Your father broke off a deal with them," Vito continued, his tone casual. "Cheated them out of money and goods. So they took payment another way."

Aiden felt like the room was spinning, his hands clenched into fists. Matteo. That was the name. That was who killed his father.

Vito set his glass down and looked at Aiden. His eyes were sharp and calculating, trying to figure out how much he could handle.

"In this world," Vito said slowly, "you pay what you owe. Or they take whatever they want."

He stepped closer again, and a dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"So tell me, Aiden," Vito said softly. "How would you like your revenge?"