Chapter Two

Micah's POV

“No. You just saved your life.”

The fuck does he mean?

I blinked hard, still sprawled flat on the cold marble floor, aching in places I didn’t know could ache. My stomach throbbed where that asshole had punched me. My skull pulsed with the memory of the blow that knocked me out.

But Elio Romano? He looked like he’d just gotten back from a gala.

I swallowed. My mouth was dry. “So… that’s it? I get to live?”

Elio stood and walked to his bar, pouring himself another drink. The soft clink of ice against the crystal glass echoed…

“That depends,” he said, turning back to me. “Living and breathing aren't the same thing.”

He took a slow sip from his drink. “You sold the location of my blood. My niece was on that ship. If I hadn't intercepted it, she would’ve been taken. Tortured. Maybe worse.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

“You didn’t know,” he repeated, walking toward me like a panther. “That’s the only reason you're not already in pieces.”

He crouched in front of me again, perfectly composed. His oud and sandalwood scent engulfed me strongly this time. God.

“But ignorance doesn't mean innocence,” he said, voice low, almost intimate. “And innocence won’t protect you from what you owe me.”

I swallowed. “You’re going to kill me anyway. So why not do it now instead?

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be in pieces.”

I flinched, the cuffs biting into my wrists. “Then why—why the hell am I here?”

His blue eyes locked on mine.

“Because,” he said simply, “I want to see what I can make out of you.”

I stared at him. “I’m not some project.”

He smirked faintly. “You’re whatever I say you are.”

The man was unreal. His gaze dipped to my mouth in just a fickle second. But I caught it.

Was he…? No. No way.

Before I could say anything, he rose and snapped his fingers once. Two guards I didn't notice before appeared from the shadows.

“Untie him," he said, not even looking at me.

One of the guards obeyed, crouching beside me and opening the cuffs at my wrists and ankles. My skin burned from the friction. I didn’t move. Not until Elio spoke again.

"Stand up."

My body didn’t want to. My head throbbed and my legs felt like rubber, but I pushed myself upright, if only because disobeying him didn’t seem like a survivable option.

He finally turned to face me fully. And fuck, there was something in his eyes that made my knees threaten to fold.

“Strip.”

I blinked. “What?”

His voice didn’t change. “I’m sure you heard me.”

I stared at him like he was joking, but nothing about Elio Romano suggested he ever joked.

“You don't want to kill me, fine. Torture me, okay. But what the hell is this?”

“You have nothing left to bargain with, Micah. Your body, your mind, your skills—those are mine now. I don’t need your consent. But I’ll give you the illusion of choice. Strip, or I’ll have my men do it for you.”

I could barely breathe.

This was it. This was the price of staying alive. And I had no fucking idea what he was going to do with me.

I reached for the hem of my hoodie with shaking hands and pulled it over my head. Then my shirt came next.

His eyes didn’t blink. He watched every inch of skin I exposed like he was calculating.

I dropped the shirt to the floor.

“Pants.” He commanded.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you need to learn what it means to belong to someone.”

Belong to—?

I bit down on my lip, my hands moving to the button of my jeans. My fingers shook, but I undid it, then slid them down. I stepped out of them, standing in just my briefs now. Exposed.

And God help me. My cock was stone hard. I hated it. Hated that some dark, buried part of me was... reacting to him. This wasn’t arousal. It was fear. It had to be.

Elio walked toward me again, slow and composed.

“You’re prettier than I expected.”

He reached out, running the back of his knuckles down my cheek. My skin lit up like I’d been scalded. My instinct told me to step back, but something worse told me not to move at all. That voice inside me, the one I never listened to, was curious.

“What are you going to do to me?” I whispered before I could stop myself.

He tilted his head slightly. “That depends on how well you behave.”

He turned to one of the guards in the room. Scars slashed across his face like someone had clawed him once and regretted not finishing the job.

“Take him to the guest suite,” he said, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me again like I was nothing more than a temporary distraction.

One of the guards grabbed me roughly under the arm and yanked me up before I could finish. My legs were still shaky, and I stumbled.

They dragged me down a pristine hallway that smelled like lemon oil. I counted security cameras as I went—three in the hall, two in the elevator. Motion sensors by the vents. State-of-the-art lock system on every damn door.

Classy. There was no way out of here.

I was led to a massive bedroom—if you could call it that. It looked more like a hotel suite than anything else. A king-sized bed sat in the middle, draped in deep gray linen. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed off a city that didn’t even know I was gone.

“This is where you’ll stay,” one of the guards said, and turned to leave. The other one stayed behind, standing stiff by the door like some human surveillance camera.

I stood there for a beat, refusing to move. If I didn’t acknowledge it, maybe this place wouldn’t become real.

But it already was. Was I his prisoner….Or his possession?

I stumbled back until my knees hit the edge of the bed. My palms were slick. I should be calculating my next move like I’d been trained to.

But all I could think about was how his toned abs would feel under my fingers.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Thinking about his hands when I should be looking for exits?

I let out a shaky breath and sat down, only for the lights to dim—on their own.

The quiet hum of electricity filled the room as the monitor blinked awake. My name blinked across the screen in crimson red letters.

MICAH REED — STATUS: RECONDITIONING INITIATED.

My skin went cold. What the hell was this place?

Chapter three Almost tempted.

Elio’s POV

I was genuinely intrigued by this boy. I mean, he had the fucking guts to hack into my database and infiltrate it in less than two minutes.

My fingers gripped the bourbon glass, the burn of it lingering on my lips. I had watched him strip hours ago, his lean body trembling under my stare, his defiance cracking into something raw.

It took every ounce of control not to cross the room and touch him then.

I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I didn’t build an empire by giving in to impulses.

His file sat open on my desk, pulled from the dark corners of my network. Micah Reed, twenty-six, freelance hacker, no criminal record but a trail of debts. Unpaid hospital bills for his mother. A sister in college. He was good. Too good to be working for scum like Rico. And too reckless to realize he had stepped into my world.

The shipping manifest he hacked was Sophia’s location. My blood. If the cartel had reached her first, I would have burned their world to ash.

I drained the bourbon and set the glass down. My phone buzzed. Luca’s message: He’s in the suite. System’s active.

The reconditioning program was live, tracking his every move, every breath. I needed to know who Micah was beyond the code.

Was he a tool I could sharpen or a liability I had to erase?

I walked to the security room, the hum of monitors filling the air. Luca stood by the screens, his scarred face lit by the glow of Micah’s suite. The kid was sitting on the bed, staring at the monitor with his name in red. His shoulders were tense, his hands fisted in the sheets. He looked like a caged animal, ready to bolt but with nowhere to go.

“He’s scared,” Luca said, not looking at me. “You sure about this?

I didn’t answer him, instead, my gaze was trained on Micah on the screen. His dark hair fell into his eyes, his jaw tight with defiance.

Luca shifted beside me, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “We should’ve ended this when we had the chance. You’re playing with fire.”

I didn’t look at him. “I don’t play.”

“Then what the hell is this?” he snapped, gesturing toward the screen where Micah sat still, eyes narrowed at the camera like he could see us watching. “He’s not just some kid, Elio. He broke into your system. No one’s ever done that and lived to talk about it.”

“He cracked level-three encryption in less than two minutes,” I finally said, my voice even. “Do you know anyone else who can do that?”

“That’s exactly my point!” Luca’s voice rose, edged with frustration. “You’re letting him stay because he impressed you?”

“I’m letting him stay,” I said, turning to face him finally, “because he’s useful.”

“For now.”

“For long enough,” I snapped. “He found the shipping manifest I encrypted personally. Do you know how many of our own men have failed to crack that system during drills?”

Luca’s jaw clenched. “So, we keep a hacker with a god complex locked in a suite and hope he doesn’t bury us from the inside?”

I stepped closer to him, my voice low. “We keep a boy who’s desperate enough to risk death for his family. You want loyalty? Nothing’s more loyal than a man with someone to lose.”

Luca looked away, his nostrils flaring. “You think he’s some prodigy, but he’s just another risk.”

“He’s a risk worth calculating.”

There was a beat of silence between us, the tension sharp and humming. On the screen, Micah stood and walked to the window, placing both hands on the glass, staring out. He looked small from this distance. Fragile.

But I’d seen the fire behind those eyes.

“He’ll test you,” Luca said quietly. “I can already see it. He’s not afraid enough of you.”

I gave a small, dark smile. “Then we’ll give him a reason to be.”

Luca’s mouth twisted. “You always did like breaking things before you claimed them.”

I ignored the jab. My eyes remained fixed on Micah. “Just make sure the system logs everything. Every deviation. Every instinct. If he even thinks about betraying me, I’ll know before he does.”

“And then?” Luca asked, almost spitefully.

I smiled faintly. “Then we’ll see if he deserves a place at my table. Or in the ground.”

Luca shook his head. “You better hope he’s worth it, boss. Because if he’s playing you, Elio. I won’t wait for your permission to end him.”

I clapped him on the shoulder, firm. “That’s why I keep you around. Don't forget to station men around his mother and sister before the Carusos cartel get to them.”

Luca left me in the security room with a frustrated grunt, muttering something in Italian under his breath. I left the room without another word.

His warnings clung to me, but they didn’t matter.

My boots echoed sharply against the marble floors as I descended the hallway, my hands buried in the pockets of my suit pants. I keyed into the suite, and the soft chime of the lock gave way to silence. But not for long.

The bathroom door creaked open just as I stepped into the living area.

Micah stepped out from the bathroom, bare-chested, towel slung low on his hips. His skin was still glistening from the shower, droplets trailing down his chest in slow, carving trails down the curve of his collarbone and lower v-line.

He froze when he saw me. His grip tightened on the towel, the fabric slipping just enough to reveal the sharp curve of his hip.

My eyes dragged down his body, slow, deliberate. “Settling in, Micah?”

He shrugged. A single drop of water slid down the side of his neck, trailing over his chest. “It's hard to enjoy anything with you watching.”

I stepped forward once. He lifted his chin and didn’t back away. Daring me?

I moved closer again, until there was barely a breath between us.

“You have a habit of being cocky,” I said, my voice smooth, but tight. “Even when you should be afraid.”

“I am afraid,” he murmured. “I just don’t like to show it to predators.”

My hand moved before I could stop it, my fingers brushing his jaw, trailing up to cup the side of his face. His breath hitched.

God, he was warm. His skin was smooth beneath my fingertips. That mouth was so close now I could taste it on my tongue. I should’ve pulled away. I didn’t.

“Say something,” he whispered.

I didn’t.

My gaze dropped to his pink lips, parted, tempting in a way that made my restraint falter.

I leaned in, just enough for him to feel it, for our breaths to mingle, heat curling between us like smoke.

And then—

I pulled back.

Chapter four Pretend It’s Micah

Elio's POV

I stormed out of the suite, slamming the door harder than necessary.

What the hell was that? God. Help me. I was this close to kissing that boy. My fists clenched as I strode down the hall. My jaw ached from how tight I’d been grinding it. Micah. That little shit. Standing there, wet and unbothered, like he hadn’t just shattered every shred of control I had left.

I hated how easily he got under my skin.

No—I hated that I wanted him to.

I yanked my phone out of my pocket and dialed. “Luca.”

He picked up on the first ring. “Boss?”

“Send someone to my quarters. One of the regulars. I don’t care who, as long as he’s willing and tight-lipped. I want him there in ten minutes.”

There was a beat of silence before Luca’s voice came back, clipped. “Got it, boss.”

I hung up without another word.

Ten minutes later, a young, blond arrived. He was a familiar face, probably from my club, but I couldn't remember his name, and didn’t care to. He looked nervous when I opened the door, but I gave him no time to speak.

My shirt hung open, tie discarded somewhere behind me. My knuckles were red from where I'd slammed the wall earlier. I didn’t bother fixing a damn thing.

“Put off your clothes. Now.”

He stripped bare almost immediately.

“Kneel,” I growled, not looking at his face. I closed my eyes for a second, my jaw tight.

Pretend it’s not him, I told myself. Pretend it’s not Micah’s throat I want to fuck. Pretend it’s not his name I want to rip from my mouth.

The boy obeyed without hesitation, dropping to his knees in front of me like he’d done this a hundred times before. Maybe he had. I didn’t care.

I watched him with a cold detachment, my hand tangled in his hair as he leaned in and unbuckled my belt, his fingers trembling slightly from either anticipation or fear.

I tilted his chin up roughly with two fingers, studying his face. Pretty, smooth-skinned, eager to please.

But he still wasn’t Micah. Goddamn it.

“Don’t speak unless I tell you to,” I muttered coldly. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded, lips parting as my cock bounced free, dripping with pre cum.

“Hands behind your back,” I commanded.

Still, I shoved my cock past his lips with a grunt. I buried myself deep in his throat, watching tears prick the corners of his eyes as I held him there.

“Breathe through your nose,” I muttered, hand tightening in his hair. “You’re here for my relief. Nothing else.”

He choked around me, but nodded the best he could. His lips were wet and red, his jaw struggling to keep up with my pace. I used his mouth like it was mine, like he had no purpose other than to take every ounce of anger I couldn’t unload on the boy who really caused it.

I stared down at him, trying—desperately trying—not to imagine Micah kneeling in his place.

But the image forced itself in anyway.

Micah’s swollen lips, wet and red, eyes locked on mine with that damn arrogance. Micah wouldn’t be obedient. He’d fight, resist, moan when I forced him to submit. That thought made my jaw clench.

I came hard, deep in the boy’s throat, grunting as I emptied everything into him. He swallowed like a good toy, even opened his mouth to show me. Fucking show-off.

But the tension in my chest didn’t ease. Not even a little.

“Fuck,” I muttered, pushing the boy off me roughly. He blinked up at me, confused and breathless, lips swollen and wet.

“Did I—”

“Turn around,” I snapped, yanking him to his feet and pushing him face-down on the bed. “I need more.”

I grabbed a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on, in one rough motion. He moaned when I pressed into him from behind, but I wasn’t gentle—I didn’t ask if he was ready since he was here to take it.

I shoved him forward again. “Turn around.”

The boy looked up, licking his lips. “Sir—”

He scrambled onto the bed, ass up, head buried in the sheets. I didn’t bother with lube. I just spat in my palm and slicked myself, anger twisting in my gut like a coil ready to snap.

I grabbed his hips and thrust into him in one stroke, rough and punishing. He cried out, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My mind was already gone—already lost in the fantasy.

Micah, bent over.

Micah, struggling under me.

Micah, cursing my name while I ruined him.

“Fuck,” I growled, snapping my hips harder, my fingers digging into the boy’s waist until I was sure I’d leave bruises. The boy moaned, pushing back, trying to match me. It only pissed me off more, that it wasn't Micah.

Nothing about this felt satisfying. No matter how deep I drove into him, no matter how he screamed, it felt empty. Mechanical. Wrong.

I came with a growl, deep and guttural, my teeth clenched as I emptied into the condom. But it didn’t feel good.

It felt hollow.

I pulled out without a word, tossing the used condom into the bin, my chest heaving. The boy lay there panting, body used and trembling with satisfaction he didn’t deserve.

“Get dressed,” I said flatly, already lighting a cigarette. I didn’t bother to look at him.

He sat up slowly. “You don’t want me to stay?”

“I don’t want to see you.”

He turned to look at me, eyes searching mine. “Was I—?”

“Just shut the fuck up and leave,” I cut in, my voice like ice. “Now.”

He dressed in silence, stealing glances at me.He left, the door clicking shut. I exhaled as I sank into the couch in the corner of the room, smoke stinging my eyes, but it didn’t clear the haze in my head.

Micah had invaded my head, and I had no fucking idea how to get him out.

My phone buzzed, pulling me out of it. The security system alert flashed. I opened it, expecting a routine update. Instead, the screen showed Micah in his suite, sitting at the desk. He had pried open the monitor’s casing, wires spilling out, his fingers moving fast.

What the fuck—