1. Matteo

1

MATTEO

N odding his thanks to the bartender, Matteo reached across the bar and picked up his cognac. He held the glass in the palm of his hand and gave it a gentle swirl. After a few swirls, he brought the bouquet glass to his nose and gave it a gentle sniff.

Ahh, that was the stuff.

Memories of the first time he had a sip of the expensive brown liquid came flooding back.

He was sixteen at the time. His father had summoned him to his study and then sat him down by the fireplace. Matteo knew that something was different that day. His father had been acting extra secretive the previous two weeks, and Matteo feared that perhaps his father was going to divorce his mother. He had heard the two arguing on occasion, mostly about his father's work and deals that had gone sour. Nothing too crazy, but still, every teen worried when they heard their parents arguing.

"It's time you and I had an honest conversation, son," his father began, pouring them both a glass of cognac before joining his son on the couch by the fireplace.

"It's every son's rite of passage to have his first drink with his father," his dad said, passing Matteo his first glass of alcohol.

Matteo took the glass and watched as his father swirled the liquid, then lifted the glass to his nose and breathed in the aroma.

"Cognac needs to be savored and enjoyed. You need to take in everything about it—the look, the smell, the smooth taste. It's the drink of gentlemen." His father raised his glass to his son before bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip.

Imitating his father, Matteo swirled his glass, sniffed the aroma, then tried his first sip of alcohol.

His father smiled. "That's my son." There was so much pride in his father's voice, Matteo couldn't help but love the man even more.

"Now, I thought it was about time we discussed the family and the family business. One day, this will all be yours, and you need to know where all the bodies are buried." His father smiled at him, then took another sip of his cognac.

His father spent the next two hours going over his family's legacy. The good, the bad, and the secrets they kept buried deep beneath the chateau in which they lived.

One day, Matteo would be the master of the estate, and he needed to know the truth about his family's history. As a guardian of the chateau, it would become his duty to protect their secrets and ensure the family's power and position continued.

When you are young, you think you have all the time in the world. Little did he know his world would implode, and he would become the guardian of his family's legacy much sooner than he thought.

Voices in the bar brought Matteo back to the present. Lifting the glass to his lips, he took a sip of the expensive cognac and welcomed the familiar sweetness as it made its way over his tongue and down his throat. He always had a glass whenever he went to the theatre. It was a way to honor his father's memory and remind him of the happy times he and his father shared before his father's untimely death.

"Thank you, sir," Matteo said to the bartender before turning his attention to the group of bratty young men standing behind him.

How did he know they were right behind him?

Their body heat. Their whispers. The vibe they gave off. Pick your poison. He always knew when one of them was around.

Matteo's eyes narrowed.

The group of young troublemakers stared at him with what amounted to evil smiles with mischievous intent.

Those fucking smiles.

Matteo didn't mind when those smiles were directed at the guests who visited La Maison de M . Those smiles caused men's wallets to open and money to fall out. Those smiles, when directed at guests, meant that some article of clothing was about to disappear or someone's cock was about to be swallowed.

But when those smiles were directed at Matteo, it only meant one thing—the boys were about to do or say something that they knew Matteo was not going to like.

Little assholes.

He knew the boys.

They were up to something.

Matteo exhaled, not sure he wanted to know what inappropriately timed thing was about to fall out of their mouths.

"What? You guys look like you're about to sell me off to some European sex trafficking ring. Hate to tell you, but at my age, I won't fetch you a pretty penny."

That was a lie. At forty-three, Matteo was still at his sexual peak. He worked out five times a week, ate healthily, had a rigorous nightly skincare routine, and, of course, always made sure that his hair and facial hair were neatly maintained.

Matteo knew that he was good-looking and could get any person he wanted into his bed. But he refused to let that knowledge go to his head. Beauty faded. And at the end of the day, all that people remember is how you made them feel.

You could be the sexiest man alive, but if you treated someone like shit, that was how they always remembered you.

He was the perfect trifecta. He was rich, powerful, and easy on the eyes. The world was his if he wanted it.

Watching the young men suspiciously, the eight of them stared back at him with cocky smirks on their faces.

Diesel, Jared, Isaac, Teo, the twins Gunnar and Anders, Rafael, and, of course, Levi.

God, he hated it when they all teamed up against him like that. How was he supposed to break them down individually when they all had backup? They acted like a brotherhood—always there for each other, always helping one another in their scheming.

But there was one thing that they always seemed to forget.

Matteo knew them.

Each and every one of them.

Some even better than themselves.

Levi would be the first to crack. Matteo could always rely on Levi's honesty and loyalty to make him confess to whatever it was that he and his brothers were secretly up to. Levi was the key. Once Levi confessed, Isaac would follow suit in solidarity with his best friend. Then, of course, Jared would have no choice but to admit his part in whatever scheme they were planning because, well, he was dating Isaac, which meant that he was always involved in whatever it was that Isaac was doing. Rafael was the newest to the group, so he would fold once he saw his other brothers confessing. That left Teo, Gunnar, and Anders, who would give up primarily because, at that point, they probably would have lost interest. This would then leave Diesel—the one man who would continue to lie to Matteo's face, mostly because he was stubborn and refused to give in to Matteo and his charm.

Diesel was always the hardest of his guys to crack. He listened to Matteo out of respect for him, but if he didn't want to do something, he always found a way or loophole to exploit, which would allow him to do what he wanted without… technically … disobeying Matteo.

So Diesel was never the one Matteo wasted time on trying to crack.

"What?" Matteo asked once again, eyes roaming over each of their annoying faces.

"That guy's been eye fucking you ever since you placed your order," Diesel piped up surprisingly, giving a slight nod over Matteo's shoulder.

Matteo was used to people checking him out when he was out in public. He was good-looking, rich, and powerful—all qualities that seemed to make women moist in their panties and men hard in their drawers. But he wasn't interested in dating. He had done the whole love thing once before, only to have his heart torn out and mangled by the one person he thought truly understood him.

No, he was not interested in opening his heart once again.

He and his heart had come to an agreement. His heart would allow Matteo to fuck whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without getting attached or making him feel… things. And in return, Matteo promised never to let another man get close enough to ever imprint on his heart again.

"Someone wants a piece of Daddy's dick," Isaac chirped, always the classy man.

Rolling his eyes, Matteo took a sip of his cognac and ignored the chatting young idiots he had brought with him to tonight's performance.

In a way, he was relieved that it wasn't something worse. Once, the guys decided to play a little game called "Will they? Or won't they?" The premise was will the random person they hit on agree to go into the bathroom and suck their dick, or won't they? Even though Matteo promised to murder any one of them who participated in the game, he couldn't help but notice each of them giggle as one of them disappeared to chat it up with a random male. In another odd turn of events that night, the bartenders only seemed to be serving soda whenever one of the boys tried to order anything alcoholic. Strange.

"What? Can't say you're not fixin' to bust a nut. How long's it been since you got your dick wet?" Diesel asked, taking a swig of his beer and watching as some older gentleman passed by with his wife. That boy could always sniff out an easy target.

"My sex life isn't any of your concern," Matteo responded, smoothing out the front of his suit vest, ensuring that everything looked neat and proper.

At events like these, image was everything. People watched, and people talked.

The name Sabarino was well-known across France and certain parts of Europe. Originally from Italy, the Sabarinos decided to move to France almost a century ago, where they made the chateau their family home.

To the general public, the Sabarino family fortune was considered old money, having amassed the majority of their wealth over several generations. When asked, Matteo simply explained that his family was involved in investments. In reality, investments were only a tiny portion of the Sabarino fortune.

"All's we're sayin' is that we can entertain ourselves if you decide to slip into the men's room and give that dude what he's clearly cravin'," Jared added, shrugging his shoulders as he sipped his beer and looked at his brothers.

The men surrounding Matteo were not brothers in the familial sense. They were not bound by blood or any type of marriage. They were brothers because they had all bonded. They shared in each other's pain and were always there for one another whenever needed. They protected one another and stood by each other.

Matteo and this group of smiling idiots were family.

"Come on. Let's go grab our seats before the opera starts," Matteo muttered, gesturing for Teo to lead the way.

"Fine," Teo groaned, placing the cap back on his water bottle before turning to head toward the large double doors that led to Matteo's private box.

Yes, Matteo had his own private box that he used once a month, bringing the boys with him to soak up some culture. Working at La Maison de M , Matteo liked his guys to be cultured and well-versed so that they could easily converse with any of their clients at the club.

Given the large number of dancers Matteo employed, he always made sure to alternate which guys joined him at the theatre each month. While there were a few dancers—like the ones present tonight—whom Matteo was much closer with, he always made it a point to treat each of his employees fairly.

Some of the guys, like Levi and the twins, had actually come to enjoy these trips to Paris to see whatever opera, play, or ballet was performing. Tonight's performance was a rendition of Medea , a stunning tale of betrayal and vengeance, something Matteo hoped would interest the boys.

Fixing Rafael's bowtie—yes, Matteo insisted that everyone come to the opera dressed to impress—he smiled at the newest member of their family.

"Are you looking forward to tonight's performance?" Matteo asked, locking eyes with the stunning Spaniard who looked as dashing as ever.

Rafael joined La Maison a few months ago after moving from Barcelona to Paris. This was his first time attending the opera with the group, and he appeared excited about the experience.

" Si. I've never been to the opera before. This place is like a palace," Rafael noted, eyes taking in every detail of wonderment throughout the theatre.

Wiping down the shoulders of the young man's suit, Matteo loved seeing the look of joy and excitement when one of his guys got to experience something amazing for the very first time.

Many of the young men who worked for him at La Maison had fled from unsafe households or had struggled with substance abuse problems. Matteo had taken them in, offering them a safe place to stay while they sought the help that they needed. After getting back on their feet, some men decided to stay, taking on work at La Maison as dancers or bartenders, while others chose to move on, finding their own paths in life.

Rafael was no such case. He had traveled from Spain to France and applied for a position as a dancer, wanting to be part of something extraordinary. Matteo was more than happy to offer him the job when he saw what the boy could do. Let's just say that Spanish men know how to make a man salivate while up on stage.

"The Palais Garnier is one of the most famous opera houses in all the world. It was built in the late 1800s at the order of Napoleon the Third. It's one of my favorite places. I love all the art and sculptures around this place. The amount of time and painstaking hard work it took, carving every little detail into the banisters, the décor, and the structures. It all just amazes me."

Even though Matteo lived in his own mini palace, he could still appreciate the beauty and luxury of Paris's great landmarks.

"Come. Let's join the others before they take the good seats," Matteo proposed, placing his hand on the small of Rafael's back and guiding him toward their private box. He couldn't wait to see the expression on Rafael's face when the show began.

Just before Matteo stepped through the doors, he glanced over his shoulder to see if his secret admirer was still checking him out.

At the other side of the bar, a tanned gentleman wearing a Hugo Boss suit and slicked-back hair raised his martini glass in Matteo's direction. The man gave a discreet nod and tilted his head toward the men's room door.

Yeah, he might have to make a pit stop during the performance and see if he can't make someone else scream at the top of their lungs this evening. It had been about two weeks since Matteo last had his balls drained, and it was about time that he made another charitable donation.