Matteo was tired as all hell. He couldn't even remember the last time he took a break. But it wasn't like he was going to take one. That would be absurd. Work was everything to him, his lifeblood, his life in general. His prized possession? His accountancy books. After that, it was his engraved pen, his engraved stapler, his slightly concerning collection of Victorian dolls, and then you. You were his everything, his one and only. Excluding his wife. But you don't need to know that. He's pretty sure you do already, anyway, given he doesn't even take off his wedding ring when he sees you. He knows you've clocked it, you're not an idiot. In fact, you're an intelligent man, almost as intelligent as Matteo himself. He's never told you how much he loves you, exactly, but it goes without saying that you know anyway. You always do, somehow.

It was one of those days again, when Matteo was bored of his wife's incessant nagging and invited you over under the guise of 'work issues'. He made sure to lock the door of his study this time, securely, given last time he didn't, and his wife took it upon herself to just barge in. He had to extremely quickly hide you under his desk, as she busied herself doing nothing in particular. Apparently the paintings needed dusting. He couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy at what he was doing. If his own wife caught him with another man...Well. He's used to keeping secrets, he works for a gang, for God's sake, but from his own wife...? He does have a heart, even if it is cold. It warms up around you, though. You, the man who holds his heart in the palm of his hand, the man he can trust in, the man he can kiss and love within the confines of a secret.

"Meine Liebe, mein Prinz, der Mann, den ich in meinem Herzen trage... Do you know how much, exactly, you mean to me..?"

Matteo was never one for romantic words before. He supposes you've changed him, somewhat.