Chapter 4 - The Dragnet
The minutes ticked away on the grand grandfather clock in the corner of the office like the heavy march of a firing squad.
Elena sat on the leather sofa near the coffee table, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, refusing to look at Matteo. Her tablet lay abandoned on the floor where she had dropped it. Every nerve in her body was raw, screaming with a mix of blind fury and suffocating helplessness.
Matteo sat behind his massive mahogany desk, casually reviewing a stack of legal documents as if he hadn't just ordered a hitman's dragnet on an innocent corporate accountant. His expression was completely serene, the cold, unyielding don back in total command.
"Drink your tea," Matteo said quietly without looking up from his paper.
"I don't want your tea," she spat out, her voice dripping with venom.
"It will calm your nerves, Elena."
"The only thing that will calm my nerves is you canceling that order!" She stood up, walking toward his desk, leaning her hands flat against the mahogany. "Julian Vance is a nobody! He works in the secondary accounting firm on the fourth floor! He's a clumsy, pathetic guy who misread a dinner invitation! He doesn't know anything about you, he doesn't know anything about the syndicate! If you hurt him, you will ruin an innocent man's life for nothing!"
Matteo stopped reading. He deliberately laid his gold pen down on the blotter, his hands folding neatly over the paper. He looked up at her, his dark eyes entirely devoid of mercy.
"Julian Vance," Matteo repeated softly, testing the name on his tongue. "So that's his name."
Elena froze, her breath catching in her throat. She had just given him the name. In her blind panic to defend the man, she had handed Matteo the exact piece of information he was waiting for.
A cruel, satisfied smile spread across Matteo's face.
"Julian Vance. Fourth-floor accounting," Matteo murmured, leaning back in his leather chair. "Thank you, Elena. You just saved Dominic twenty minutes of searching."
"Matteo, please..." Her voice broke, the anger vanishing, replaced by genuine, terrified desperation. She walked around the desk, dropping all her pride, coming to stand right next to his leather chair. "Please. I am begging you. Do not do this. If you have any respect for me, if you care about me at all, do not hurt him."
Matteo turned his chair slightly to face her. He looked down at her hands, which were trembling uncontrollably.
"Do you care about him?" Matteo asked, his voice suddenly quiet, stripped of the earlier triumph. The jealousy was back, dark and festering.
"No!" she shouted, tears of frustration pricking the corners of her eyes. "I don't care about him! I don't give a damn about Julian Vance! I care about you not turning into a monster over a stupid, meaningless mistake! I care about not having a man's blood on my conscience because he tried to kiss me!"
Matteo stared at her for a long, heavy moment. He reached out, his long fingers wrapping gently around her hand, pulling her closer until she was standing between his knees.
"I am a monster, Elena," he said softly, his voice echoing with absolute, terrifying truth. "Did you forget what family I lead? Did you forget how I took control of this city? I am not a civilized man. I let you see the civilized version of me because I didn't want to frighten you away. But if another man touches you, if another man puts his hands on your skin, the monster comes out. And there is nothing in this world that can stop it."
Before she could reply, a soft, precise knock sounded at the heavy oak doors.
"Enter," Matteo commanded smoothly, not letting go of Elena's hand.
The door opened, and Dominic walked in, holding a thin paper file in his hands. He took in the scene—Elena standing between Matteo's knees, Matteo holding her hand securely—without batting an eye.
"I have the details on Julian Vance, boss," Dominic said, stepping forward. "Thirty-two years old. Senior accountant at Vance & Associates. He handles mid-level corporate audits for our logistics subsidiaries."
"Has he been brought in?" Matteo asked coldly.
"He's currently downstairs in the basement holding room," Dominic replied flatly. "Frankie and Marco picked him up from his desk five minutes ago. He was... cooperative. Mostly because he was terrified."
Elena gasped, trying to pull her hand out of Matteo's grip, but his fingers held her like an iron vice.
"Matteo, no!" she sobbed. "Please!"
"Is he injured?" Matteo asked Dominic, ignoring Elena's plea.
"Not yet," Dominic answered. "We were waiting for your explicit orders on how to handle it."
Matteo looked up at Elena. He saw the genuine terror in her tear-filled eyes, saw the way her body was shaking, saw the sheer panic consuming her.
He pulled her down slightly, forcing her to lean over him until his lips were brushed against her ear.
"I will let him live," Matteo whispered, his breath hot against her skin, sending a violent shiver down her spine. "I will let him walk out of this tower unharmed, without a single bone broken. On one condition."
Elena swallowed hard, her chest heaving against his shoulder. "What condition?"
May you like
Matteo pulled back slightly, looking directly into her eyes, his expression possessive, absolute, and entirely unyielding.
"You resign from Vance & Associates' account," Matteo said softly. "You move your personal belongings into my private penthouse on the top floor of this building tonight. And you never, ever go on a date with another man again."
