2. Playing with Fire

CHAPTER 2

PLAYING WITH FIRE

Enzo's footsteps echoed in the marble hallway leading to his father's office. Each step felt heavier than the last, dread coiling in his gut like a venomous snake. The Ricci family's corporate headquarters always felt more like a mausoleum to Enzo—cold, imposing, and full of ghosts.

He paused outside the ornate double doors, straightening his tie one last time. Whatever awaited him on the other side, he'd face it with the Ricci pride his father had drilled into him since birth. With a deep breath, he knocked.

"Come in." His father's voice, muffled by the thick wood, sent a shiver down Enzo's spine.

The office was exactly as Enzo remembered—all dark wood and leather, reeking of cigars and power. Don Ricci sat behind his massive desk, his face an inscrutable mask. But it was the other man in the room that made Enzo's heart stutter.

Steel-gray eyes met his, and Enzo felt the floor drop out from under him. It was him. The stranger from the club. Up close, he was even more devastating—tall and broad-shouldered, with a face that looked like it had been carved from marble by a Renaissance master.

"Enzo," his father's sharp voice cut through his daze. "Sit down."

Enzo tore his gaze away from the stranger, sinking into one of the chairs facing his father's desk. He could feel the weight of that steel gaze on him, making his skin prickle with awareness.

"Do you know why you're here?" Don Ricci asked, his tone deceptively calm.

Enzo swallowed hard. "I assume it has something to do with last night."

His father's eyes narrowed. "Last night. Yes, let's talk about last night. About how my son, my heir, was seen leaving Club Inferno with Giulia Bianchi."

Shit. Enzo's mind raced, trying to find a way to explain that wouldn't end with him sleeping with the fishes. "Dad, it's not what you think. Giulia was in trouble. I was just helping out a friend."

"A friend?" Don Ricci's voice dripped with disdain. "The daughter of our greatest enemy is not your friend, Enzo. She is a liability. A weakness our enemies can exploit."

Enzo bristled at that. "She's a person, Dad. Not some pawn in your gangster chess game."

The stranger made a sound—almost a laugh, quickly stifled. Enzo's eyes darted to him, catching a glimpse of something like approval in those storm-gray depths.

Don Ricci slammed his hand on the desk, the sharp crack making Enzo jump. "Enough! Your recklessness has put this family in danger. Do you have any idea what could have happened if Franco Bianchi had decided to retaliate?"

Enzo opened his mouth to argue, but his father cut him off with a raised hand. "I'm not finished. This isn't the first time your... proclivities have caused problems. But it will be the last."

A chill ran down Enzo's spine. He'd heard that tone before—it never ended well for the person on the receiving end.

"What do you mean?" he asked, hating how small his voice sounded.

Don Ricci leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "It's time you learned some responsibility. Some discipline. That's why I've hired Mr. Salvatore here."

The stranger—Salvatore—stepped forward, his presence filling the room. Enzo's breath caught in his throat.

"Matteo Salvatore will be your new bodyguard," Don Ricci continued. "He'll be with you 24/7, keeping you out of trouble and teaching you what it means to be a Ricci."

Enzo's mind reeled. A bodyguard? He was 23, for Christ's sake, not some child who needed a babysitter. And yet... the thought of spending all his time with this Matteo Salvatore sent a thrill through him that had nothing to do with anger.

"This is bullshit," Enzo spat, falling back on bravado to mask his conflicting emotions. "I don't need a fucking babysitter."

"Watch your mouth," Don Ricci snapped. "This isn't up for discussion. You'll do as you're told, or I'll cut you off. No more trust fund, no more penthouse. You'll be on your own."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Enzo knew his father meant every word. For all his rebelliousness, he'd never had to truly fend for himself. The thought was terrifying.

"Fine," he ground out, fists clenched at his sides. "But don't expect me to make it easy."

Don Ricci's smile was cold. "I'd be disappointed if you did. Matteo, he's all yours. Try not to break him too quickly."

Salvatore nodded, his face impassive. "Yes, sir."

As Enzo stood to leave, his father's voice stopped him. "Oh, and Enzo? Ms. Bianchi will be escorted back to her family today. I trust you understand why you won't be seeing her again."

Guilt and worry churned in Enzo's gut. He'd promised to help Giulia, to keep her safe. But there was nothing he could do now, not without risking open war between their families.

"Yes, sir," he muttered, hating himself for the defeat in his voice.

He stalked out of the office, Matteo a silent shadow behind him. It wasn't until they reached the elevator that Enzo rounded on him.

"Listen up, Salvatore," he snarled, jabbing a finger at the taller man's chest. "I don't know what my father's paying you, but I'm not some helpless kid who needs protecting. Stay out of my way, and we'll get along just fine."

Matteo raised an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed. "Are you finished?"

The calm question took the wind out of Enzo's sails. He'd expected anger, maybe even a threat. Not this cool indifference.

"Yeah," Enzo muttered, suddenly feeling very young and very foolish. "I guess I am."

Matteo nodded, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. "Good. Now, why don't you tell me about this girl you're so worried about?"

Enzo blinked, thrown by the unexpected question. "What?"

"Giulia Bianchi," Matteo clarified as they stepped into the elevator. "You clearly care about her welfare. What's her situation?"

For a moment, Enzo considered telling Matteo to mind his own business. But something in the older man's eyes—concern, maybe, or simple curiosity—made him reconsider.

As the elevator descended, Enzo found himself spilling the whole story. Giulia's fear of her brother, her plea for help, his promise to find her a safe place to stay.

Matteo listened silently, his face giving nothing away. When Enzo finished, he was quiet for a long moment.

"You did the right thing," he said finally, surprising Enzo. "Helping her. It was reckless and could have backfired spectacularly, but it was the right thing to do."

Enzo felt a warmth bloom in his chest at the unexpected praise. "Yeah, well, fat lot of good it did. She's probably back with her psycho brother by now."

The elevator doors opened, and Matteo gestured for Enzo to exit first. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Your father said she'd be escorted back to her family. He didn't specify which family member."

Enzo's eyes widened as he caught Matteo's meaning. "You think...?"

Matteo shrugged, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "I think Don Ricci is many things, but he's not cruel. If the girl was truly in danger, he'll have made sure she's safe. Even if it means keeping her away from you."

The knot of worry in Enzo's chest loosened slightly. He wanted to believe Matteo was right, that his father wasn't the complete bastard Enzo often thought him to be.

As they exited the building, Enzo squinted against the bright sunlight. "So what now? You gonna follow me around like a shadow, making sure I don't jaywalker or drink milk straight from the carton?"

Matteo's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Something like that. Though I'm more concerned with keeping you alive than policing your dairy habits."

He gestured to a sleek black SUV parked at the curb. "Your father wants you moved to a more secure location. We'll stop by your penthouse to pick up some essentials, then head to the new place."

Enzo's hackles rose. "What? No way. I'm not leaving my home just because my old man's paranoid."

Matteo's expression hardened, all traces of humor vanishing. "This isn't a request, Enzo. There have been threats against your family. Until we know more, you need to be somewhere we can better control access."

The use of his first name shouldn't have affected Enzo as much as it did. He tried to focus on his anger, on the injustice of it all, but found himself distracted by the way Matteo's mouth formed the syllables of his name.

"Fine," he grumbled, climbing into the SUV. "But I'm not happy about this."

"Noted," Matteo said dryly, sliding into the driver's seat.

The ride to Enzo's penthouse was tense, filled with a crackling energy that had Enzo's skin prickling. He kept sneaking glances at Matteo, admiring the strong line of his jaw, the capable hands gripping the steering wheel. It was infuriating how attractive he found this man who was essentially his jailer.

When they arrived, Enzo half-expected Matteo to follow him up. Instead, the older man simply said, "You have thirty minutes. Pack what you need for a few weeks. I'll be waiting here."

Enzo nodded, oddly disappointed. As he rode the elevator up, he tried to shake off the confusing mix of emotions swirling in his chest. He needed to focus on the problem at hand – namely, how to regain his freedom and get out from under Matteo's watchful eye.

The penthouse felt different somehow, colder. Enzo moved through the rooms quickly, shoving clothes and essentials into a duffel bag. As he passed the guest room, he paused. Giulia's presence lingered here, a reminder of his failed attempt at heroics.

With a sigh, Enzo pulled out his phone and dialed Luca's number. His friend picked up on the second ring.

"Zo! Where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"Sorry, man," Enzo said, genuine regret in his voice. "It's been a crazy morning. Listen, I need a favor."

He quickly filled Luca in on the situation with Giulia, asking him to reach out through his connections to make sure she was okay. Luca, bless him, didn't ask too many questions.

"I've got you, bro," Luca assured him. "I'll find out what I can. But Enzo... be careful, okay? This Bianchi business is playing with fire."

"I know," Enzo sighed. "Trust me, I'm paying for it already. I've got a new babysitter and everything."

"A babysitter?" Luca's voice was equal parts amused and concerned. "Your old man finally snap?"

Enzo laughed, but it was a hollow sound. "Something like that. I gotta go, but I'll call you when I can. Thanks, Luca. I owe you one."

"You owe me several, but who's counting? Take care, Zo."

As Enzo ended the call, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He looked tired, the events of the past 24 hours etched in the shadows under his eyes. But there was something else there too – a spark of defiance, of determination.

He might be stuck with Matteo Salvatore for now, but that didn't mean he had to make it easy on the man. A slow grin spread across Enzo's face as an idea began to form. If Matteo wanted to play babysitter, Enzo would give him a brat worthy of the name.

Grabbing his bag, Enzo headed back down to the SUV. Matteo was leaning against the vehicle, his posture relaxed but alert. As Enzo approached, he couldn't help but admire the way Matteo's suit clung to his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

"Ready?" Matteo asked, straightening up.

Enzo's grin turned wicked. "Oh, I'm ready. Question is, are you?"

Something flashed in Matteo's eyes – wariness, maybe, or intrigue. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Enzo just winked, tossing his bag into the back seat. "You'll see. Let's go, big guy. Show me to my gilded cage."

As they pulled away from the curb, Enzo felt a thrill of anticipation. He might be trapped, but he was far from defeated. And if he had to be stuck with a babysitter, well... at least it was one he wouldn't mind seeing shirtless.

The game was on. And Enzo Ricci played to win.