Luciano’s POV
Mateo didn’t knock.
He walked into my study like the place still belonged to his bloodline.
“Cousin,” he said lightly, spreading his arms as if we were children reunited after summer. “Longest time no talk.”
I did not rise from my chair.
The irritation was immediate, and I just couldn’t hide it..
Mateo carried charm the way other men carried weapons. Visible. Decorative. Dangerous.
“You should have called,” I said flatly.
He smiled wider and dropped into the chair opposite my desk without waiting for permission.
“I was nearby.”
Mateo was never “nearby” by accident.
He crossed one leg over the other and studied the room as though assessing its worth.
“I heard about the container,” he said, his tone casual, but his eyes attentive.
Of course he did.
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