Matteo’s answer came with the soft click of a ring box opening.
Matteo De Luca
"You"
Vincenzo Rossi
(Froze)
Matteo De Luca
“You’re going to marry me, principe ( prince),”
Matteo De Luca
And by the time I’m done with you, you’ll beg for my name.
Vincenzo stared at the ring, the silver glint catching the firelight like a noose around his throat.
Vincenzo Rossi
(laughed. Low, bitter) “You’ve lost your damn mind.”
Matteo De Luca
You should feel honored
Matteo said, his voice low and smooth, his eyes gleaming with something dark.
Matteo De Luca
"You're not just marrying me. You're becoming part of a family that rules with fear. It's an offer you can't refuse."
Matteo’s smirk didn’t falter. He closed the ring box with a soft click, then gripped Vincenzo’s jaw, tilting his face upward. The heat of the flames cast harsh shadows across Matteo’s features—sharp cheekbones, piercing eyes that looked like they could cut glass. Eyes that didn’t flinch when they looked at blood.
Matteo De Luca
You’ll say yes
Matteo De Luca
Because the only thing left of the Rossis is you. And I’m offering you a way to live.
Vincenzo Rossi
You call this living? ( chuckle)
Matteo leaned in closer, their lips a breath apart.
Matteo De Luca
I Call it surviving. And maybe—just maybe—you’ll learn to enjoy it.
Then he stood and signaled his men. In seconds, Vincenzo was dragged to his feet and shoved into the back of a black car. The leather smelled like gun oil and money. Cold hands pinned him down as the door shut and the engine growled to life.
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