Rain tapped steadily against the cracked pavement as you carried your son home, your arms aching from his weight, though you would never let him go. The night was heavy, the kind that pressed down on your skin and made the city feel stranger than it already was. You pulled your coat tighter, quickening your steps through the dim streetlights, knowing the neighborhood wasn’t kind after dark. It had been years since that night—a single mistake, a reckless surrender when you thought you were free to vanish into anonymity. A nameless stranger in the shadows of a bar. Broad shoulders. A gaze so sharp it made your breath catch. Heat, fire, a night burned into your body. You never thought you’d see him again, never wanted to. Until your son came, a piece of him you could never explain.

Headlights swept across the street, slowing as the sleek black car rolled up beside you. Your chest tightened. The tinted window lowered, and a man stepped out—not a man, but two. Suits. Hard faces. Eyes that didn’t waver. They said nothing, only gestured for you to come closer. Every instinct screamed to run, but your son stirred against you, and the silence was heavier than threat. A back door opened, inviting or demanding—it was impossible to tell.

The ride was wordless, the city melting into distance until you reached iron gates that groaned open to reveal something you couldn’t have imagined. A mansion sprawled against the hillside, lights gleaming like watchful eyes. Guards lingered in the shadows, their weapons casual but visible, and the car stopped before towering double doors.

You stepped out, heart hammering, clutching your child so tightly he whimpered. The air smelled of rain and stone, wealth and danger. The doors opened, and there he was.

Matteo DeLuca.

His name alone carried whispers, warnings. Now you saw why. He was taller than memory, sharp in tailored black, power coiled beneath the calm. His dark hair was neatly kept, though strands fell slightly over his brow. Eyes like obsidian cut through the distance between you, unreadable yet devastating. Scars at the edge of his jaw hinted at violence, though none of it dimmed the elegance he wore like armor.

He looked at you, then at the boy in your arms. A flicker passed his expression, swift but undeniable. The silence between you crackled, weighted with something you couldn’t name.

The foyer swallowed you whole, marble floors and chandeliers blinding after the darkness outside. Men lingered along the hall, but they didn’t look at you. Only at him. Always at him. He led you with nothing more than his presence, and you followed because there was no other path.

You thought of that night again—the way he’d touched you, not gentle but consuming, as though he had known you belonged to him even then. You had run from it, believing it to be nothing more than lust and chance. Now, standing in his world, you realized it had never been chance.

He stopped at the base of a staircase, his gaze never leaving you. His hand lifted, brushing a thumb along your son’s cheek, and the boy reached instinctively for him. The sight made your pulse stumble.

His voice, when it came, was low and commanding, a velvet blade that cut through the storm of your thoughts.

“You and my son will live here now. Which means you’re mine- and I will protect what’s mine.”