"Matteo."
I stopped. Turned back.
Stefan was sitting up now, feet on the floor, hands clenched on his knees. His green eyes caught the light from the hallway, reflecting it back like a cat's.
"What do you want from me?"
It was a good question. One I'd been asking myself since I'd caught him in that office.
"I don't know yet," I admitted. "But I'll figure it out."
I left before he could respond. Before I could give in to the urge to cross back to that bed and find out if his mouth tasted as good as it looked.
Outside in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and dragged in a breath.
This was getting worse. The obsession was spreading through my chest like an infection. Every conversation made it stronger. Every time I saw him—defiant or scared or sleeping—I wanted him more.
Wanted to break through his defenses.
Wanted to see him choose me instead of fighting me.
Wanted to prove that I was different from every other man who'd ever tried to control him.
My phone buzzed. Text from Sandro.
Meeting tomorrow, 10 AM. Diana has updates on the suppression motions.
Right. The trial. The federal investigation. The fact that I was potentially facing life in prison and should be focused on that instead of obsessing over Giuseppe Romano's youngest son.
I typed back:I'll be there.
Then I went to my office and pulled up the security footage again. Not the old videos from galas and fundraisers. The live feed from Stefan's room.
He was standing by the window now, looking up at the narrow slice of sky visible through the high opening. His posturewas tense, shoulders tight. One hand braced against the wall like he was holding himself up.
He looked lonely. Lost.
I should feel guilty for keeping him locked up. Should question whether this was actually protection or just a different form of cruelty.
But I didn't.
Because I'd seen the alternative. I'd watched that banker buy him at the auction. I'd seen the terror Stefan had hidden behind practiced smiles. I'd heard the stories about what Giuseppe did with his sons—selling them to business partners, using them as incentives, treating them like commodities instead of people.
This cage was temporary. Once I knew Stefan was safe—once I'd dealt with Giuseppe and whatever retaliation was coming—I'd let him go.
Maybe.
If I could.
If the obsession growing in my chest didn't consume me first.
Stefan moved away from the window and sat on the bed. Buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook slightly.
He was crying.
Silently. Privately. Probably thought no one could see him.
Something in my chest cracked.
