CHAPTER 3 — THE RULES OF A MAN LIKE HIM
1301 Words
Aria
The Ricci estate didn’t look like the home of a man capable of killing me without blinking.
It looked like the home of a man capable of conquering entire countries.
The boat carried us to a private dock hidden beneath an archway draped in crimson bougainvillea. Two more guards were stationed at the entrance, their expressions blank, eyes too sharp for comfort. A chill raced down my spine as Matteo stepped out first and extended his hand.
I hesitated.
His brow lifted slightly, waiting—not impatient, just observing how long it would take me to decide. I placed my hand in his, and he helped me onto the dock with a smooth, possessive strength that made my pulse hitch.
"Stay close," he said quietly.
The words shouldn’t have warmed me.
But they did.
The path led through a courtyard lit by golden lanterns. Marble statues lined the sides—Greek gods carved with perfect detail. A fountain trickled softly in the center, the water reflecting the crescent moon above.
It was beautiful.
It was terrifying.
Everything about this place whispered power, blood, and the kind of wealth that came with consequences.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“My home,” Matteo answered. “And until I determine how much danger you are in… it’s your home too.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” I murmured.
“No one ever asks,” he replied. “But you saw the Ricci oath. A witness is never left on the streets to talk.”
I stopped walking. “So you brought me here instead of killing me. Why?”
This time he stopped too. Turned. Looked directly into my eyes.
The night seemed to fall quiet around us.
“Because I don’t kill women who look me in the eye without flinching,” Matteo said softly.
“Because you ran toward danger instead of away.”
His jaw tightened. “And because something about you tells me you’re not the kind to betray a trust… even one you didn’t ask for.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer you’ll get tonight.”
His honesty scared me more than a lie would have.
We reached the main doors—a towering structure of carved dark wood. Matteo placed his hand on a panel, and it unlocked with a quiet click.
Inside…
I lost my breath.
The foyer opened into a sweeping stairway, glass walls revealing the night sky, and floors polished to such a shine that reflections moved beneath my feet like ghosts.
He didn’t turn to see if I was still behind him.
He knew I was.
“The guest wing is downstairs,” he said, descending the steps. “You’ll sleep there tonight.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Matteo said without looking back, “I give you my rules.”
The way he said my rules felt like the closing of a metal door.
He led me to a corridor lined with soft lights and opened the door to a room larger than my entire apartment in Manhattan. The bed was king-sized, the windows draped in velvet, a fireplace flickering quietly.
“This is mine?” I asked.
“For now.”
His gaze held mine. “You’re not a prisoner… unless you try to run.”
My heartbeat raced. “And if I did?”
His eyes darkened.
“Don’t.”
Just that.
One word. But it carried a thousand threats and something else… something that felt like concern.
“I’ll send someone with clothes,” he said. “Your things are still at the hotel, but retrieving them now would cause questions I don’t intend to answer tonight.”
“Am I in danger here?” I asked.
He paused by the door, hand resting on the frame.
“You’re safe from the world,” he murmured, “as long as you don’t make yourself an enemy of mine.”
“And from you?” I whispered.
Matteo’s eyes flicked down to my lips… then back up.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
My breath caught.
Then he closed the door.
Matteo
I didn’t turn around after walking out of her room.
I couldn’t.
Not when her wide, defiant eyes were still burned into my mind. Not when the scent of her—fresh rain and wild honey—clung to my skin like a ghost refusing to leave.
Aria Collins.
A woman who should have died the moment she saw the blood oath… yet somehow ended up protected under my roof.
Protected by me.
Lorenzo was already waiting at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall like he’d predicted I’d need him.
“You brought her here,” he said quietly. “That wasn’t part of the protocol.”
“I’m aware,” I replied.
“She’s a witness, Matteo. The council won’t like this.”
“They don’t need to know.”
Lorenzo exhaled a curse. “And what exactly do you intend to do with her?”
I didn’t answer.
Not immediately.
Because truthfully?
I didn’t know.
Aria had set something off in me from the moment I saw her standing frozen beneath the dock lights, watching death unfold like someone seeing lightning strike inches from their face.
She should have been begging.
She should have fainted.
She should have run.
Instead, she stood her ground.
And then she looked at me like she already expected I would end her life.
Something in me snapped at the look of quiet acceptance on her face.
The Ricci line kills for many reasons.
But we don’t kill fire.
We never have.
“She’s not ordinary,” I finally said.
“No witness ever is,” Lorenzo muttered.
“This is different.”
He studied my face. “You feel something.”
Feel?
The word tasted dangerous.
“I feel… responsible,” I said carefully.
“For a stranger who walked into a ritual she shouldn’t have?”
“No.”
I met his gaze.
“For the fact that fate put her there. And I don’t ignore what fate places in my path.”
Lorenzo’s expression tightened. “Matteo. She could destroy everything.”
“Not if she stays close.”
“Close?” Lorenzo repeated. “You mean locked in your home?”
“She’s not a prisoner.”
He raised a brow. “Does she know that?”
“She will,” I snapped.
Silence stretched.
Then Lorenzo spoke softer. “And if the council orders her death?”
“If they come near her,” I said quietly, “I’ll handle them myself.”
His eyes widened. “Matteo—”
“Enough,” I said.
I walked past him, trying to bury the storm rising in my chest.
This wasn’t about attraction.
This wasn’t about impulse.
Aria Collins represented something I hadn’t felt in years:
A shift.
A disruption.
A spark in a world grown numb beneath blood and duty.
I reached the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The night air hit my face, cool and sharp.
I told myself I wasn’t thinking about her.
But when I closed my eyes, I saw her again—breathing hard, chest rising and falling, eyes filled with fear she tried so hard to hide.
I shouldn’t want to protect her.
I shouldn’t want to know her.
I shouldn’t want her at all.
But I did.
Not with softness.
Not with tenderness.
With hunger.
With danger.
With the instinct of a man who doesn’t let what’s his be touched or threatened.
And somewhere deep inside, a truth settled like a stone:
Aria wasn’t just a witness.
She was about to become something far more complicated, far more dangerous…
She was about to become mine.
- Writer
