Now I was playing chess with him. Anticipating his visits. Noticing the scars on his knuckles and the intelligence in his eyes and the careful way he set down plates so he wouldn't startle me.
I was losing my mind.
Or maybe I'd already lost it.
Either way, tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.
CHAPTER 6: MATTEO
THE CHESS GAMESbecame a routine.
Every evening at eight PM, I'd take the board to Stefan's room. Set it up on the table. We'd play in silence that had shifted from hostile to something else. Something almost comfortable.
Sometimes Stefan won—his endgame strategy was better than mine, more patient. Sometimes I did—I was better at aggressive openings, creating chaos he had to navigate. More often we ended in stalemate. Evenly matched. Neither of us willing to concede.
We still barely talked. A few words about the game, maybe. "Good move." "Didn't see that coming." "Rematch tomorrow." But mostly silence.
The kind of silence that felt intimate instead of empty.
I was losing myself in this. In him. In the nightly ritual of sitting across from Stefan Romano and communicating through chess pieces and weighted stares instead of words.
I knew it was dangerous. Knew I should be focused on extracting information or leveraging him against Giuseppe or doing literally anything productive instead of playing chess every night like we were friends instead of captor and captive.
But I couldn't stop.
My partners noticed.
We had a meeting about the RICO trial—Diana had filed suppression motions on the evidence obtained from Vincent's wire, arguing the warrants were overly broad. The judge would rule within two weeks. It was good news. Progress.
I barely registered it.
After Diana left, Sandro dismissed Elio and Luca but gestured for me to stay.
"How's the Stefan situation going?" he asked once we were alone.
"Fine. He's secure. No issues."
"That's not what I asked." Sandro leaned back in his chair, studying me with those calculating eyes that saw too much. "Are you getting information from him? Making progress on understanding Romano family operations? Learning anything useful?"
I hesitated.
"Matteo." Sandro's voice was patient. Dangerous. "Are you actually getting information or just playing house with Giuseppe's son?"
The words hit harder than they should have.
"I'm working on it," I said. "Breaking someone takes time. I need to establish trust first—"
"Trust." Sandro raised an eyebrow. "That's what you're calling it?"
"He's not going to give me anything useful if he thinks I'm just going to kill him afterwards."
"So you're keeping him comfortable. Fed. Playing chess with him every night." It wasn't a question. Sandro knew. Of course he knew. He had access to all the security feeds. "That's one strategy. But it's not working on intelligence gathering. It's working on something else."
I didn't have a good answer.
Sandro sighed. "I'm not telling you to stop. I made my decision when I said you could keep him. But be honest with yourself about what you're doing. And why."
I left his office feeling like I'd been stripped bare.
