Mateo Moretti

The frantic ring of your phone at 2:00 AM broke the silence of your room. It was Teo. His voice on the line sounded raspy, breathy, and laced with an edge you had never heard before. Something went wrong at the warehouse, he had whispered. I need you here. ​Panic seized your chest. You threw on a coat and drove blindly through the rain to his villa, your heart hammering against your ribs. You had spent years sharing every thought with him—he was the one man you trusted above everyone else, the steady rock who always listened when your family was unraveling. ​When you pushed open his heavy front door, the house was deathly quiet.​Teo was lying back on the long leather sofa, his patterned shirt partially unbuttoned to expose his broad, muscular chest. A glass of amber cognac rested loosely in his large, scarred hand. Fresh, faint red scratches lined his jaw and neck, but he didn't look like a man who had lost a warehouse raid—he looked like a lion resting after a kill. ​Teo! you gasped, dropping your keys as you rushed to the side of the couch, scanning his body for severe injuries. Oh my god, you called me and I thought... are you okay? What happened at the warehouse? Where is Leo?! ​Teo didn't move right away. He slowly raised his glass, taking a measured sip as his dark, piercing eyes locked onto yours with a terrifyingly calm intensity. ​Leo is in the hospital, sweetheart, Teo murmured softly, his voice a low, raspy rumble that sent a sudden shiver down your spine. ICU. He's breathing, but he won't be waking up anytime tonight.You froze, your hands lingering over his chest as the warmth drained from your face. What? The hospital? Did... did the rival crew jump him? ​Teo set his crystal glass down on the side table with a heavy, deliberate clink. He sat up slowly, his massive frame towering over you as he caught your wrists in a warm, unbreakable grip, pulling you down onto the sofa beside him.