Page 11 of The Enforcer's Brat

The next hour passed in a blur of instruction and sparring. Enzo was in good shape – years of partying and occasional gym sessions had kept him fit – but this was a whole different level of intensity. By the time Matteo called for a break, Enzo was drenched in sweat, his muscles aching in ways he'd never experienced.

"Not bad," Matteo said, tossing Enzo a water bottle. "You've got good instincts. Just need to learn how to use them properly."

Enzo gulped down the water, trying not to preen under the praise. "Thanks," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "So, what's next? More punching? Maybe you'll teach me some super-secret ninja moves?"

Matteo snorted, shaking his head. "No ninja moves. But we are going to work on your stamina."

Enzo's mind immediately went to the gutter, images of sweaty, tangled limbs and breathless moans flashing through his head. He felt his face heat, hoping Matteo would attribute the flush to exertion.

"Stamina, huh?" he said, aiming for nonchalance. "And how exactly are we going to work on that?"

Matteo's eyes gleamed with something that might have been amusement. "Running," he said. "Five miles, to start with. Think you can handle it?"

Enzo groaned internally. Running was decidedly not what he'd had in mind. But he'd be damned if he let Matteo think he couldn't keep up.

"Please," he scoffed. "I could do five miles in my sleep."

Matteo's grin was downright predatory. "Prove it."

As they set off at a steady jog, Enzo couldn't help but feel like he'd just walked into a trap of his own making. But as he watched Matteo run ahead of him, admiring the way the older man's muscles moved beneath his sweat-dampened shirt, he found he didn't much mind.

This might be a punishment, but it came with one hell of a view.

By the time they finished their run, Enzo was ready to collapse. His lungs burned, his legs felt like jelly, and he was pretty sure he'd sweated out every ounce of liquid in his body. Matteo, the bastard, looked barely winded.

"Hit the showers," Matteo said, his voice annoyingly steady. "Then we'll grab some lunch and start on your studies."

Enzo nodded, too exhausted to form words. He dragged himself upstairs, stripping off his sweat-soaked clothes and stepping under the blessedly cool spray of the shower.

As the water sluiced over his aching muscles, Enzo found his mind wandering to Matteo. To strong hands and steel-gray eyes, to the way the older man had manhandled him so easily during their sparring session. He groaned, feeling his cock start to harden despite his exhaustion.

This was going to be a long, frustrating week. But as Enzo wrapped a hand around himself, giving in to the fantasy of Matteo pinning him down, of rough hands and bruising kisses, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Whatever game they were playing, whatever this thing was between them, Enzo was all in. And he had a feeling that when it finally came to a head, the explosion would be spectacular.

With that thought, Enzo came with a muffled groan, Matteo's name on his lips. As he rinsed off, he couldn't help but wonder if Matteo was thinking of him too, if the older man was as affected by their proximity as Enzo was.

Only time would tell. And Enzo, for all his impatience, found himself looking forward to the slow burn, to the gradual build of tension between them.

Game on, indeed.

CHAPTER 5

NEW RULES

Enzo padded down the stairs, his hair still damp from the shower, feeling refreshed but apprehensive about what Matteo had in store for their "study session." He found the older man in the living room, several thick folders spread out on the coffee table.

"Sit," Matteo said, not looking up from the document he was reading. "We've got a lot to cover."

Enzo flopped onto the couch, purposely sprawling to take up as much space as possible. "What's all this?" he asked, eyeing the folders warily.

Matteo finally looked up, his steel-gray eyes assessing. "This," he said, tapping the folders, "is your family's business. The parts of it you need to understand if you're going to survive in this world."

Enzo's brow furrowed. "I thought I was just supposed to stay out of trouble and look pretty at family functions. Since when am I expected to actually run things?"

"Since always," Matteo replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "You're Enzo Ricci, heir to one of the most powerful families in Chicago. Whether you like it or not, this is your legacy. It's time you started taking it seriously."

The weight of expectation in Matteo's words made Enzo's chest tighten. He'd spent his whole life running from this, from the responsibility and danger that came with his last name. But now, faced with Matteo's unwavering gaze, he found it hard to summon his usual nonchalance.

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