Matteo stepped out of the bathroom still damp, shirt half-clinging to his skin, hair a disaster of dark strands curling where they shouldn't. The steam followed him like a ghost, spilling into the open space of the penthouse.
The place was quiet. Tooquiet.
City lights spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, Moscow glowing beneath glass like something alive and watching.
Everything here screamed money—marble floors cold under his bare feet, furniture sharp and modern, the kind of clean that made you feel dirty just for standing in it.
Aleksander was waiting.
He leaned against the counter near the bar, jacket gone, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened just enough to look intentional. A glass of whiskey sat untouched beside him. He didn't turn right away—just spoke, calm and infuriating.
"You stopped pacing," Aleksander said. "I was starting to think you'd wear a hole into my floor."
Matteo scoffed. "Relax. I'm not planning an escape. Yet."
Aleksander finally looked at him.
Slowly.
His eyes dragged over Matteo in a way that made Matteo's spine prickle—evaluating.
"You look sexy after shower," Aleksander added. "Good. You smelled like panic before."
"Cunt," Matteo shot back. "You still smell like a walking pile of ass with a black flag around it."
Aleksander smiled at that. Not offended. Almost pleased.
"Careful," he said. "Sarcasm is dangerous in my house."
Matteo crossed his arms. "So is kidnapping."
A beat.
Then Aleksander laughed quietly, shaking his head as if Matteo had said something charming instead of suicidal.
"You're still alive," Aleksander replied. "Which means you're doing something right."
"That's not reassuring."
Aleksander pushed off the counter and walked closer—not fast, not aggressive. Just deliberate. Every step measured. Controlled. The kind of calm that made Matteo want to either punch him or bolt.
He stopped an arm's length away.
Too close.
"Do you know what bothers me most?"
Aleksander asked casually.
Matteo lifted his chin. "Let me guess. The lying."
"No," Aleksander said. "The confidence."
Matteo frowned. "What?"
"You lied to my face," Aleksander continued. "In my presence. And you did it like you thought you'd get away with it."
Matteo snorted. "Sorry I don't piss myself on command."
Aleksander's eyes darkened—just a fraction.
"You should've," he said softly.
Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. Matteo could hear his own breathing, feel the tension crawling under his skin like static.
Aleksander leaned in slightly, voice lower now.
"You don't run," he said. "You don't beg. You don't fold."
Matteo blinked. "Is that supposed to scare me?"
Aleksander's smile sharpened. "No. It's supposed to interest me."
"That's worse."
Aleksander hummed in agreement.
"You have a habit," he added, "of stepping too close to dangerous things and acting surprised when they bite."
"Funny," Matteo snapped. "You have a habit of thinking the world belongs to you."
Aleksander's gaze locked onto his—
unblinking, intense.
"It does," he said simply.
Matteo laughed under his breath, more disbelief than humor. "God, you're insane."
Aleksander stepped closer again—close enough now that Matteo had to fight the instinct to step back.
"Insane men don't build empires,"
Aleksander murmured. "They burn them."
His hand came up—not touching, just hovering near Matteo's shoulder. Close enough to feel heat.
Matteo's jaw clenched. "If you're trying to intimidate me, you're doing a shit job."
Aleksander tilted his head. "I'm not intimidating you."
A pause.
"I'm warning you."
Matteo held his ground, heart pounding, pulse loud in his ears.
"About what?"
Aleksander's eyes flicked briefly to the city outside—then back to Matteo.
Slowly—he started to walk towards Matteo, making Matteo have to step back slightly with every gruesome step that beast took towards him.
Edging him closer... and closer... to the bed like a gateway to hell.
"About how much attention you've earned," he said. "And how dangerous it is when you keep it."
The room felt smaller. Hotter. Like the walls were leaning in.
Aleksander straightened, smoothing his sleeve like the tension hadn't just crackled between them.
"hm," he said calmly, trapping Matteo by the edge of the bed
Matteo narrowed his eyes. "Get the fuck out of my way-"
Aleksander smiled. "Be a good little zaika and be quiet." he said shoving Matteo down hard onto the plush bed.
The chilled water from Matteo's hair, dripped smoothly onto the silk mattress below him as Aleksander ripped off his tie and calmly took off his shirt with practiced ease.
Matteo panted sitting up only to be shoved back down again my Aleksander's bulky pale arm weighing on his chest.
"UGH... fuck!" Matteo grunted through gritted teeth as Aleksander's eyes glowed with predatory interest. A smile creeping on his face. "Is your arm some fucking Walrus!? Get off me, damn it!"
Aleksander only let out a soft chuckle as response to Matteo's writhing form beneath him.
The lights dimmed slightly as Aleksander leaned closer, watching Matteo laying there beneath him—angry, rattled, and painfully aware of what was about to happen to him.
"I told you I would punish you, no?" Aleksander said with a darkening chuckle.