He looked at Matteo, fully expecting a sharp denial, a correction, anything. But to Adrian's absolute shock, Matteo simply glanced back at him with an unreadable expression.
"Yes," he replied coolly.
Adrian stared at him, eyes narrowing into a sharp, dangerous glare. This better be a joke, he thought.
Tony chuckled, giving Adrian a pat on the shoulder that was far too casual for a stranger. "Don't be shy, Playboy. Just do your job, do it well, and you'll be fine."
Adrian let out a bitter, inward laugh. Playboy? My foot. He was starting to wonder if a single person in this house had any sense at all.
"Follow me," Matteo said, his voice sharp as he headed toward the grand staircase.
Adrian hesitated, his feet rooted to the marble. He wanted to scream no, to turn and run, but he caught the glint of a holster beneath the blazer of a nearby guard. Calm down, Adrian, he told himself. Survival first.
He followed Matteo up the stairs, passing two more guards stationed outside a set of massive oak doors. They bowed as Matteo approached. They stepped into a master suite that was as large as Adrian's entire studio, a space filled with the scent of expensive tobacco and leather, dominated by a king-sized bed and a panoramic view of the dark city below.
The door clicked shut behind them, its sound sharp and final. They were alone.
Adrian planted his feet, chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, as he faced Matteo in the center of the lavish room. "Did you just call me a Playboy?"
Matteo remained silent. He glided toward a high-backed velvet armchair, every movement smooth and predatory, like a cat circling its prey. Settling into the seat, he crossed one tailored leg over the other and fixed Adrian with a gaze that was heavy, unreadable, and impossible to ignore.
The silence only stoked the fire in Adrian's gut. "You dragged me here. You let your friend insult me. Why?" He took a shaky breath, his voice finally finding its edge. "What do you want from me? Who the hell are you?"
Matteo remained unnervingly calm. "Water or wine?"
Adrian blinked, thrown off balance. "What?"
"I can see you are under significant stress," Matteo noted, his voice a smooth, dark baritone. "You need to settle your nerves. So, water or wine?"
Adrian shoved his hair back from his forehead, pacing a small line on the expensive rug. "What are you talking about? I'm asking you a question! Who are you? Why am I here?"
"I can see you're impatient," Matteo replied, unshaken by Adrian's outburst. "But you need to stay still. Have a drink. Relax. Then we'll talk."
Realizing he wouldn't get a word out of the man until he complied, Adrian sank into a long sofa across from him. He felt the exhaustion of the night finally catching up to him. "Water," he muttered. "Give me water."
Matteo lifted a sleek landline from the side table. "Selena, bring some water."
Within minutes, a personal maid appeared, moving like a shadow. She placed a glass of water before Adrian with a deep, silent bow, then disappeared as swiftly as she had come. Adrian took a long, steadying sip, letting the cold liquid anchor him. Setting the glass down, he leaned forward, eyes locked on Matteo. "Answers. Now."
Matteo tilted his head, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "I'm surprised you really don't know who I am."
Adrian scoffed. "Why? Am I supposed to know, are you some kind of politician? The President? The Governor?" He rattled off a few high-profile names, his voice thick with sarcasm.
Matteo's expression hardened, his face unreadable and cold. "Those people?" he said, his voice low and measured. "They think they run the city. But in truth, they answer to forces they don't even see." He leaned forward slightly, the shadows sharpening his already imposing presence. "I am Matteo Marcone. If I saved you tonight, it was a rare act of… generosity." His eyes pierced Adrian's. "And you, what is your name?"
Adrian remained silent, refusing to give up that last bit of himself. He stood up, smoothing his jacket. "Well, Mr. Marcone, thank you for the rescue. Truly. But I need to head home now. I don't like to owe people, especially not men like you. Tell me, how can I repay your 'kindness' so we can be done with this?"
Matteo looked him up and down, a slow, predatory calculation in his eyes. "What could someone like you possibly offer me?"
"Anything," Adrian said quickly, thinking of money, his art, or even a professional favor. "Whatever you want."
Matteo let out a low, deliberate hum. "I have everything I could ever want, money, power, influence. It's all mine." He rose, closing the distance between them until Adrian could feel the weight of his presence. Matteo's eyes flicked to the massive silk-covered bed in the corner, then back to Adrian. "But since you insist on not owing me… You can serve me there. On the bed."
Adrian's heart stopped. He stared at Matteo, then at the bed, and back again. "Is this some kind of joke? A twisted game?"
Matteo didn't smile. Adrian's ignorance had piqued his curiosity; now, his defiance made him a challenge. "I don't joke about what I want. Since you insist on paying your way, this is how it ends, climb into that bed."
"You are shameless," Adrian hissed, his face burning with anger and disbelief. "You chose to be generous, you weren't forced. I'm a man, not some toy you can just order around. If you won't make this reasonable, that's on you. I'm leaving."
Adrian spun on his heel and strode toward the door. Matteo remained motionless, his gaze fixed on Adrian's back with unnerving patience. Just as Adrian's hand closed around the handle, Matteo's voice cut through the air cold, sharp, and final.
"Since you refuse my request, you remain in my debt. From this moment, you are forever bound to me."
"Nonsense," Adrian snapped, his voice tight with anger, not daring to look back. "Who do you think you are?"
He yanked the door open and stepped out. The two guards flanking the entrance didn't move, letting him pass like silent statues. Adrian stormed down the grand staircase, muttering curses under his breath. Climb the bed? Shameless. I'm a man, for God's sake.
Adrian made it down the grand staircase, the guards standing silently aside, letting him pass without a word. Relief flared, until Tony suddenly stepped into his path at the bottom. He was grinning with that infuriating, teasing smirk, one hand giving a playful smack in Adrian's direction. "Oh, sweet boy! Leaving so soon? That was fast."
Adrian tried to push past him. "I'm going home."
Tony didn't move. "That's fine, sweetheart. Truly. But... where is your code?"
Adrian stopped, frowning. The guards in the room were all watching him now, their hands resting near their holsters. "What code?"
"Didn't Mat give you a code?" Tony asked, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "You know, no one walks out these front doors without a digital clearance. A little permission slip, courtesy of the man you just left upstairs."
Adrian felt the blood drain from his face. "What?"
"Go back upstairs, Playboy," Tony chuckled, gesturing toward the stairs. "Collect your code. because without it, you aren't going anywhere."
Adrian stood paralyzed for a moment, his gaze darting from Tony's amused face to the stone-faced guards flanking the exit.