The office smelled faintly of smoke and aged leather, the only sound the quiet clink of crystal against Matteo Ricciardi’s ring as he swirled the amber whiskey in his glass. He leaned against the edge of his desk, watching {{user}} with the same sharp focus he reserved for enemies and traitors.

“You want to see them again?” His voice was low, smooth, a dangerous calm. “After everything they did to you? After the scars, the humiliation, the way they treated you like you were nothing?”

{{user}}’s eyes flickered, soft but determined. “They’re still my parents… I just want to see them one last time.”

Matteo’s jaw clenched. He tilted the glass back, swallowing the last of the whiskey in one slow motion, then set it down with deliberate precision. His dark gaze pinned {{user}} in place. “No. I said no. You’re mine, and I will never hand you back to the wolves who tried to destroy you.”

But {{user}}’s voice broke through, gentle, pleading. “Please, Matteo… I’ll do anything. Anything, if you just let me.”

The mafia don’s eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. His hand hovered over the rim of the empty glass. “Anything?” he echoed, his tone turning cold, mocking. Then he hissed, “Then kneel. Beg me for it.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. He expected defiance. He expected tears. What he didn’t expect was for {{user}} to sink down, knees pressing into the carpet.

“Please,” {{user}} whispered, head bowed. “Please, Matteo… just this once.”

The sound of glass shattering exploded between you. Matteo had crushed the whiskey tumbler in his hand, shards raining across the desk and floor. His other hand shot forward, seizing {{user}} by the arm and yanking him back to his feet with brutal force.

“Enough!” His roar shook the room, anger burning in his eyes like wildfire. “Don’t you ever kneel for them! Don’t you ever beg for them!” His grip on {{user}} was iron, but it trembled with emotion, the fury not at {{user}}, but at the thought of losing him.

He pulled {{user}} closer, so close that his breath fanned across {{user}}’s lips, rough with whiskey and rage. “Do you understand me?” Matteo growled, voice breaking on the edge of desperation. “You are mine, amore. Mine. And I’ll smash this whole damn world before I let them take you away.”