Page 16 of The Enforcer's Brat

Enzo's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? Since when does Dad care about my involvement in the business?"

"Since always," Matteo replied, finally meeting Enzo's gaze. "You're his heir, Enzo. It's time you started acting like it."

The weight of expectation in Matteo's words made Enzo's chest tighten. He'd spent so long running from his family's legacy, and now it seemed to be catching up to him all at once.

"Right," Enzo muttered, reaching for one of the folders. "Let's get this over with, then."

For the next few hours, they pored over financial reports and business strategies. To Enzo's surprise, he found himself genuinely interested in the intricate workings of his family's empire. It was like a giant, high-stakes chess game, and Enzo had always been good at strategy.

As the afternoon wore on, Enzo became increasingly aware of Matteo's proximity. Every time the older man leaned in to explain something, Enzo could feel the heat radiating off his body, could smell the tantalizing mix of cologne and clean sweat that was uniquely Matteo.

"You're picking this up quickly," Matteo said, a note of approval in his voice that made Enzo's heart skip. "Your father will be impressed."

Enzo snorted, ignoring the warmth that bloomed in his chest at the praise. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I'm still not sold on this whole 'heir to the empire' thing."

Matteo's eyes narrowed. "This isn't a game, Enzo. Your family's legacy?—"

"My family's legacy," Enzo cut in, frustration bubbling up, "is built on blood money and broken lives. Excuse me if I'm not jumping at the chance to continue that tradition."

For a moment, Matteo just stared at him, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"It's not that simple," he said, his voice softer than Enzo had ever heard it. "The world isn't black and white, Enzo. Your family does a lot of good too – provides jobs, supports charities, keeps the peace in neighborhoods the cops have abandoned."

Enzo blinked, thrown by this unexpected glimpse of vulnerability from the usually stoic Matteo. "Is that how you justify it to yourself?" he asked, genuinely curious. "The violence, the illegal activities – it's all for the greater good?"

Matteo's jaw clenched. "I don't have to justify anything. I know who I am and what I do. The question is, do you?"

The words hit Enzo like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to retort, but found he had no answer. Who was he, really? The spoiled party boy? The reluctant heir? Or something else entirely?

Before he could formulate a response, Matteo was standing, gathering the papers spread across the coffee table. "That's enough for today," he said, his voice back to its usual controlled tone. "Go get cleaned up for dinner."

As Enzo watched Matteo retreat to the kitchen, he felt a pang of something that might have been regret. He'd pushed too hard, touched a nerve he hadn't even known was there.

Dinner was a tense affair, the silence broken only by the clink of cutlery on plates. Enzo kept sneaking glances at Matteo, trying to gauge the older man's mood. But Matteo's face was an impassive mask, giving nothing away.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, Enzo spoke. "I'm sorry," he said, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. "About what I said earlier. I didn't mean to... I don't know, offend you or whatever."

Matteo looked up, surprise flickering across his face before it settled back into its usual stoic expression. "You didn't offend me, Enzo. You're entitled to your opinions, even if they're naive and short-sighted."

Enzo bristled at that. "Naive? I'm not the one pretending that what we do is some noble cause."

"No," Matteo agreed, his voice dangerously calm. "You're the one pretending it has nothing to do with you. That you can just walk away and wash your hands of it all."

Enzo felt his temper flare. "Maybe I can. Maybe I don't want any part of this fucked up world."

Matteo's eyes flashed. "And go where? Do what? This world, as you put it, is all you've ever known. It's in your blood, Enzo. Whether you like it or not."

"Fuck you," Enzo spat, shoving back from the table. "You don't know me. You don't know what I'm capable of."

He stormed out of the dining room, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and something else – something that felt dangerously close to fear. Because deep down, Enzo knew Matteo was right. This life, this world... it was all he had.

Enzo found himself in the backyard, the cool night air a welcome relief against his flushed skin. He paced back and forth, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear Matteo approach until the older man spoke.

"Enzo."

Enzo whirled, startled. Matteo stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

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