5. New Rules

CHAPTER 5

NEW RULES

Enzo padded down the stairs, his hair still damp from the shower, feeling refreshed but apprehensive about what Matteo had in store for their "study session." He found the older man in the living room, several thick folders spread out on the coffee table.

"Sit," Matteo said, not looking up from the document he was reading. "We've got a lot to cover."

Enzo flopped onto the couch, purposely sprawling to take up as much space as possible. "What's all this?" he asked, eyeing the folders warily.

Matteo finally looked up, his steel-gray eyes assessing. "This," he said, tapping the folders, "is your family's business. The parts of it you need to understand if you're going to survive in this world."

Enzo's brow furrowed. "I thought I was just supposed to stay out of trouble and look pretty at family functions. Since when am I expected to actually run things?"

"Since always," Matteo replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "You're Enzo Ricci, heir to one of the most powerful families in Chicago. Whether you like it or not, this is your legacy. It's time you started taking it seriously."

The weight of expectation in Matteo's words made Enzo's chest tighten. He'd spent his whole life running from this, from the responsibility and danger that came with his last name. But now, faced with Matteo's unwavering gaze, he found it hard to summon his usual nonchalance.

"Fine," he muttered, sitting up straighter. "Where do we start?"

Matteo's lips twitched in what might have been approval. He pushed a folder towards Enzo. "Here. This is an overview of your family's legitimate businesses. Read through it, and we'll discuss."

For the next hour, Enzo immersed himself in the world of shipping contracts, real estate holdings, and investment portfolios. It was dry, tedious work, but he found himself oddly fascinated by the intricate web of connections and power plays hidden in the mundane business details.

When he looked up, he found Matteo watching him with an intensity that made his skin prickle. "What?" he asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"You're smarter than you let on," Matteo said, his voice tinged with something like respect. "You picked up on things most people would miss."

Enzo felt a flush of pleasure at the praise, even as he tried to shrug it off. "It's not that complicated. Just a bunch of rich assholes moving money around."

Matteo's eyes narrowed. "It's a lot more than that, and you know it. This 'bunch of rich assholes' controls half the city. Their decisions affect thousands of lives."

"Yeah, well, maybe that's the problem," Enzo muttered, a familiar anger bubbling up. "Why should a handful of people have that much power?"

"Because someone has to," Matteo said simply. "The question is, what kind of person do you want that someone to be?"

Enzo blinked, thrown by the question. Before he could formulate a response, Matteo was pushing another folder towards him.

"Enough philosophy for now. This one's about the... less legitimate side of things. Pay attention – there'll be a quiz later."

As Enzo delved into the darker aspects of his family's empire, he found himself increasingly conflicted. On one hand, the sheer scope of the Ricci family's influence was impressive. On the other, the methods they used to maintain that power were often brutal and ethically questionable at best.

He was so engrossed in his reading that he didn't notice Matteo moving until the older man was right beside him on the couch. Enzo startled, suddenly very aware of Matteo's proximity.

"Problem?" Matteo asked, his voice low.

Enzo swallowed hard, fighting to keep his voice steady. "No, just... processing. It's a lot to take in."

Matteo nodded, his eyes never leaving Enzo's face. "It is. But you're handling it well. Better than I expected, honestly."

There was that praise again, making Enzo's chest warm in a way he wasn't entirely comfortable with. He cleared his throat, desperate to change the subject.

"So, about that quiz you mentioned..."

Matteo's lips curved into a small smile. "Eager, are we? Alright then. Tell me about the Bianchi family's territory."

For the next half hour, Matteo grilled Enzo on everything from rival families to smuggling routes. To Enzo's surprise, he found he actually enjoyed the challenge. It was like a high-stakes game of strategy, and Enzo had always been good at games.

"Not bad," Matteo said finally, leaning back. "You've got a good head for this stuff when you apply yourself."

Enzo preened a bit under the compliment, then caught himself. What was he doing, getting all worked up over Matteo's approval? This was the guy keeping him prisoner, for Christ's sake.

As if sensing Enzo's internal conflict, Matteo's expression softened slightly. "I know this isn't easy for you," he said. "Being cooped up here, cut off from your life. But I hope you can see why it's necessary."

Enzo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, I do. It's just... frustrating. I feel like a kid being punished for something I didn't even do."

"You're not being punished, Enzo. You're being protected." Matteo's voice was gentle but firm. "There are people out there who would hurt you just to get to your father. I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen."

The sincerity in Matteo's eyes made Enzo's breath catch. For a moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to have someone like Matteo truly care about him, not just as a job but as a person.

The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

Enzo cleared his throat, looking away from Matteo's intense gaze. "Right, well... thanks, I guess. For looking out for me."

Matteo nodded, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "It's my job. But you're welcome."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, thick with unspoken tension. Enzo fidgeted, hyperaware of Matteo's proximity on the couch.

"So," he said, desperate to break the silence, "what's next on the agenda? More studying? Maybe a pop quiz on the finer points of money laundering?"

Matteo chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down Enzo's spine. "Actually, I thought we could take a break. You've been working hard. How about a movie?"

Enzo blinked, thrown by the sudden shift. "A movie? Seriously?"

"Unless you'd rather go back to studying shipping manifests," Matteo said, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

"No, no, a movie sounds great," Enzo said quickly. "I'm just surprised you know how to have fun, old man."

Matteo's eyes narrowed, but there was a glint of amusement in them. "I'm full of surprises, kid. Don't forget that."

As Matteo set up the movie, Enzo found himself watching the older man's movements. The play of muscles under his shirt, the graceful efficiency of his actions. It was mesmerizing in a way Enzo wasn't entirely comfortable examining too closely.

They settled in to watch, Enzo hyper-aware of every inch of space between them on the couch. The movie was some action thriller, all explosions and car chases, but Enzo found it hard to focus. His mind kept drifting to Matteo, to the heat radiating from the older man's body.

About halfway through the film, Enzo decided to test the waters. He stretched, deliberately letting his arm brush against Matteo's. The older man tensed slightly but didn't move away.

Emboldened, Enzo shifted, letting his leg press against Matteo's. This time, Matteo's reaction was more noticeable. His breath hitched, his hand clenching on his thigh.

"Enzo," Matteo said, his voice low and warning. "What are you doing?"

Enzo turned to face him, plastering on his most innocent expression. "What? I'm just getting comfortable."

Matteo's eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it. "You're playing with fire, kid."

"Maybe I like getting burned," Enzo retorted, leaning in closer.

For a moment, they were frozen in a tableau of tension, faces inches apart. Enzo could see the conflict in Matteo's eyes, the battle between desire and duty.

Then, with a growl that sent heat pooling in Enzo's gut, Matteo surged forward. His hand tangled in Enzo's hair, pulling him into a bruising kiss.

Enzo melted into it, months of pent-up tension and frustrated desire pouring out. He clambered into Matteo's lap, straddling the older man's thighs as he deepened the kiss.

Matteo's hands were everywhere, hot and demanding on Enzo's skin. He gripped Enzo's hips, grinding up against him in a way that had Enzo seeing stars.

"Fuck," Enzo gasped, breaking away for air. "Matteo, please..."

"Please what?" Matteo growled, nipping at Enzo's throat. "Tell me what you want, brat."

Enzo whined, rocking against Matteo's hardness. "You. Want you to fuck me, want you to make me yours."

Matteo groaned, his grip on Enzo's hips tightening to the point of bruising. For a moment, Enzo thought he might actually do it, might bend him over right there on the couch and fuck him senseless.

But then Matteo was pushing him away, his breath coming in harsh pants. "We can't," he said, his voice rough with restrained desire. "This isn't... it's not right."

Enzo felt like he'd been doused with cold water. "What? Why not?"

Matteo ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "You're my charge, Enzo. I'm supposed to be protecting you, not... this."

"I'm not a child," Enzo snapped, anger and hurt warring in his chest. "I know what I want."

"Do you?" Matteo's eyes were dark, unreadable. "Or is this just another game to you? Another way to push boundaries and see what you can get away with?"

The words stung, more than Enzo wanted to admit. "It's not like that," he said, hating how small his voice sounded.

Matteo sighed, his expression softening slightly. "Look, Enzo... whatever this is between us, it can't happen. Not now, not like this. I'm sorry if I led you on or gave you the wrong impression."

Enzo felt his cheeks burn with humiliation. He scrambled off Matteo's lap, putting as much distance between them as the couch would allow.

"Fine," he bit out. "Message received, loud and clear. Won't happen again."

Matteo looked like he wanted to say more, but Enzo cut him off. "I'm tired. Think I'll turn in early."

Without waiting for a response, Enzo fled upstairs, his heart pounding and his body still thrumming with frustrated desire.

Once in his room, Enzo collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow. What the fuck had he been thinking? Of course Matteo didn't actually want him. He was just a job, a responsibility. Nothing more.

As Enzo drifted off into an uneasy sleep, he couldn't shake the memory of Matteo's kiss, of strong hands and barely restrained passion. Whatever Matteo said, whatever excuses he made, Enzo knew there was something real between them.

And he'd be damned if he was going to let it go without a fight.

Downstairs, Matteo sat on the couch, head in his hands. He could still taste Enzo on his lips, could still feel the ghost of the younger man's body against his.

"Fuck," he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. He was in way over his head, teetering on the edge of something he wasn't sure he could come back from.

But as he remembered the look in Enzo's eyes, the raw need and vulnerability, Matteo knew he was already lost. Whatever happened next, whatever consequences came from this, he'd face them head-on.

For Enzo, he'd risk it all. Heaven help them both.