3. Escape and Consequences

CHAPTER 3

ESCAPE AND CONSEQUENCES

The safe house was a far cry from Enzo's luxurious penthouse. Tucked away in a nondescript suburb, the modest two-story home looked like it belonged to a middle-class family, not the heir to Chicago's most powerful crime syndicate. Enzo scowled as Matteo pulled into the driveway, already plotting his escape.

"Home sweet home," Matteo said dryly, cutting the engine. "At least for the foreseeable future."

Enzo snorted, grabbing his duffel bag. "It looks like somewhere people go to die of boredom."

"That's the point," Matteo replied, his tone maddeningly patient. "Boring means safe. And safe is what you need to be right now."

As they entered the house, Enzo had to admit it was nicer on the inside. Modern furnishings, top-of-the-line electronics, even a fully stocked bar. Still, it felt like a prison, no matter how gilded the cage.

"Your room is upstairs, first door on the left," Matteo said, gesturing towards the staircase. "Why don't you get settled while I do a perimeter check?"

Enzo rolled his eyes but headed up without argument. His room was spacious enough, with a comfortable-looking queen bed and an en-suite bathroom. But the windows, he noticed with a sinking feeling, were fitted with subtle but sturdy security bars.

"Fucking perfect," he muttered, tossing his bag onto the bed.

He spent the next hour unpacking and exploring the house, looking for potential weaknesses in the security. But Matteo, it seemed, was thorough. Every exit was alarmed, every window reinforced. Even the Wi-Fi was locked down tighter than Fort Knox.

By the time Matteo called him down for dinner, Enzo was seething with frustration. He stomped into the kitchen, ready to pick a fight.

"I'm not hungry," he snapped, even as the smell of garlic and tomatoes made his stomach growl.

Matteo, stirring something on the stove, didn't even look up. "Sit down, Enzo. You need to eat."

"You can't tell me what to do," Enzo retorted, knowing he sounded childish but past the point of caring.

This time, Matteo did turn, fixing Enzo with a stern look that sent an unexpected shiver down his spine. "I can, actually. It's literally my job. Now sit down before I make you."

The threat, delivered in that low, gravelly voice, shouldn't have been as arousing as it was. Enzo felt his face heat, torn between defiance and a sudden, intense desire to see just how Matteo might "make him".

Grudgingly, he slid into a chair at the small kitchen table. Matteo nodded approvingly, turning back to the stove. A few minutes later, he set a plate of pasta in front of Enzo.

"Eat," he said, taking the seat opposite. "Then we'll talk about the rules."

Enzo wanted to refuse on principle, but the pasta smelled amazing. He took a begrudging bite and had to stifle a moan. It was delicious.

"This is... not terrible," he admitted grudgingly.

The corner of Matteo's mouth ticked up in what might have been a smile. "High praise indeed."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Enzo sneaking glances at Matteo when he thought the older man wasn't looking. In the soft light of the kitchen, the sharp planes of Matteo's face seemed softer somehow, more approachable.

"So," Enzo said, pushing his empty plate away. "These rules. Let me guess—no fun allowed?"

Matteo's eyes narrowed slightly. "This isn't a game, Enzo. Your life is in danger. The rules are there to keep you safe."

"Safe and miserable," Enzo muttered.

Matteo ignored the comment. "Rule one: You don't leave the house without me. Period. Rule two: No contact with anyone outside of a pre-approved list. That means no social media, no unauthorized phone calls or texts."

Enzo's jaw clenched. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Rule three," Matteo continued as if Enzo hadn't spoken. "You do what I say, when I say it. No arguments, no backtalk."

"And if I don't?" Enzo challenged, leaning forward. "What are you gonna do, spank me?"

He meant it as a joke, a way to throw Matteo off balance. But the look that flashed in the older man's eyes – dark and hungry – made Enzo's breath catch.

"Don't tempt me," Matteo growled, his voice low and dangerous.

For a moment, they stared at each other, the air between them charged with something Enzo couldn't quite name. Then Matteo stood abruptly, breaking the tension.

"It's been a long day," he said, his voice back to its usual calm. "Get some rest. We start training tomorrow."

"Training?" Enzo asked, thrown by the sudden change of subject.

Matteo nodded. "Self-defense, mostly. If you're going to be a target, you need to know how to protect yourself."

With that, he left the kitchen, leaving Enzo alone with his thoughts and a simmering frustration that had little to do with his confinement.

Later that night, Enzo lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep eluded him, his mind racing with plans and possibilities. He needed to get out, if only for a few hours. To prove to himself that he wasn't completely under Matteo's control.

Around 2 AM, he made his move. Dressed in dark clothes, he crept down the stairs, carefully avoiding the spots he'd noticed creaked earlier. The security system was top-notch, but Enzo had grown up around this kind of tech. It took him less than five minutes to disable the alarms on the back door.

As he slipped out into the cool night air, Enzo felt a rush of exhilaration. He was free. sort of. He knew he couldn't go far – Matteo would notice he was gone sooner rather than later. But there was a 24-hour diner a few blocks away. He could grab a coffee, maybe flirt with a cute waiter, pretend for a little while that his life wasn't spiraling out of control.

The diner was nearly empty when Enzo arrived, just a couple of truckers nursing cups of coffee at the counter. He slid into a booth, ordering a coffee and a slice of pie from a tired-looking waitress.

As he sipped his coffee, Enzo pulled out his phone. He'd managed to swipe it back from Matteo earlier, knowing the older man had probably put some kind of tracking software on it. But Enzo was smart – he'd disabled the GPS and was using a secure messaging app to contact Luca.

"Made it out," he typed. "Any news on G?"

Luca's reply came almost immediately. "Jesus, Zo. You trying to get yourself killed? And yeah, G's safe. Can't say more. Be careful, bro."

Enzo smiled, relieved to know Giulia was okay. He was about to reply when a shadow fell across his table.

"You know," a familiar voice rumbled, "when I said no leaving the house, I meant it."

Enzo's head snapped up, his heart sinking. Matteo loomed over him, looking impossibly put-together for 3 AM. His expression was thunderous.

"How did you—" Enzo started, then shook his head. "Never mind. I needed some air."

"Air," Matteo repeated flatly. "At 3 in the morning. In a diner."

Enzo lifted his chin defiantly. "Yes. Problem?"

Matteo's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. "Get up. We're leaving. Now."

"Make me," Enzo challenged, knowing he was pushing his luck but unable to stop himself.

For a moment, he thought Matteo might actually do it – might grab him and throw him over his shoulder like some kind of caveman. The mental image was... not entirely unpleasant.

But Matteo just leaned in close, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't test me, brat. You won't like the consequences."

A shiver ran down Enzo's spine, equal parts fear and excitement. He opened his mouth to retort, but the look in Matteo's eyes made him think better of it. Grudgingly, he stood, tossing some bills on the table.

The ride back to the safe house was tense, the silence heavy with unspoken words. Enzo could feel Matteo's anger radiating off him in waves. He knew he should feel guilty, should be worried about the punishment that was surely coming. Instead, all he felt was a perverse thrill at having gotten under the older man's skin.

As soon as they were inside, Matteo rounded on him. "What the hell were you thinking?" he snarled, backing Enzo against the wall. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

Enzo lifted his chin defiantly. "I was thinking that I'm not some prisoner you can keep locked up. I'm a grown man, Matteo. I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" Matteo's voice was quiet now, but no less intense. "Because from where I'm standing, you're acting like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum."

The words stung, more than Enzo wanted to admit. "Fuck you," he spat. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know enough," Matteo countered. "I know you're reckless, impulsive, and too damn pretty for your own good. I know you think you're invincible, that the rules don't apply to you. And I know that attitude is going to get you killed if you don't wise up."

Enzo blinked, caught off guard by the 'pretty' comment. Had Matteo really just said that? "I?—"

"No," Matteo cut him off. "You don't get to talk right now. You're going to listen, and you're going to listen good. This isn't a game, Enzo. There are people out there who want you dead. My job is to keep that from happening, even if it means protecting you from your own stupidity."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot on Enzo's cheek. "So here's what's going to happen. You're going to go upstairs, and you're going to stay in your room until I say otherwise. No phone, no computer, no contact with the outside world. And in the morning, we're going to have a long talk about consequences. Understand?"

Enzo wanted to argue, wanted to push back against Matteo's authority. But something in the older man's eyes – a mix of anger, concern, and something darker that made Enzo's pulse quicken – stopped him.

"Fine," he muttered, looking away.

Matteo stepped back, giving Enzo space to move. "Go. Now."

As Enzo climbed the stairs, he could feel Matteo's eyes on him. The weight of that gaze sent a shiver down his spine, a confusing mix of resentment and arousal churning in his gut.

Once in his room, Enzo flopped onto the bed with a frustrated groan. He'd fucked up, he knew that. But a part of him couldn't help but feel a thrill at having provoked such a strong reaction from the usually stoic Matteo.

As he drifted off to sleep, Enzo's last thoughts were of steel-gray eyes and strong hands. He dreamed of those hands on his body, of Matteo's voice in his ear, growling about consequences and punishments that had nothing to do with being grounded.

When morning came, Enzo woke with a start, his body flushed and his heart racing. The dream lingered, vivid images of Matteo pinning him down, of rough hands and bruising kisses. He groaned, pressing the heel of his hand against his aching cock.

A knock at the door made him jump. "Breakfast in ten," Matteo's voice called. "Don't make me come get you."

Enzo flopped back onto the pillows, torn between arousal and dread. Whatever consequences Matteo had in mind, Enzo had a feeling they were going to test his self-control in ways he wasn't prepared for.

As he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower, Enzo couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing on the edge of a precipice. One wrong move and he'd fall, plummeting into unknown depths.

The scary part was, he wasn't sure he wanted to step back from the edge. Maybe, just maybe, the fall would be worth it.

With a deep breath, Enzo squared his shoulders and headed downstairs to face the music. Whatever Matteo had in store for him, he'd face it head-on. He was Enzo fucking Ricci, after all. He didn't back down from a challenge.

Even if that challenge came in the form of a devastatingly handsome bodyguard with eyes that saw too much and hands that promised both punishment and pleasure.

Game on, Matteo, Enzo thought as he descended the stairs. Let's see what you've got.