Page 19 of The Enforcer's Brat

As Enzo trudged inside, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just stepped into something far more intense than he'd bargained for. But as he remembered the heat in Matteo's eyes, the possessive grip of his hands, Enzo found he didn't much care.

Whatever Matteo had in store for him, Enzo was all in.

The shower did little to calm Enzo's racing thoughts or his uncomfortably persistent arousal. As he toweled off, he debated what to wear. Part of him wanted to show up in nothing but a towel, just to see how far he could push Matteo's control.

But the look in the older man's eyes earlier – that dangerous, predatory glint – made Enzo reconsider. He had a feeling that if he pushed too far, too fast, Matteo might just snap.

Enzo settled on a pair of tight jeans and a soft, well-worn t-shirt. Casual, but still tempting. He ran a hand through his damp curls, giving his reflection one last appraising look before heading to the study.

He found Matteo at the desk, poring over what looked like financial records. The older man didn't look up as Enzo entered, just pointed to a chair across from him. "Sit."

The command, delivered in that low, gravelly voice, sent a shiver down Enzo's spine. He complied without argument, for once.

"These are the latest reports from your family's legitimate businesses," Matteo said, sliding a folder towards Enzo. "I want you to go through them, identify any discrepancies or areas of concern."

Enzo blinked, thrown by the mundane task. "What, no forced push-ups? No scrubbing the floors with a toothbrush?"

Matteo's eyes flicked up, a hint of amusement in their steel-gray depths. "Would you prefer that?"

"No," Enzo said quickly. "This is fine."

For the next hour, they worked in relative silence. Enzo found himself surprisingly engrossed in the task, his quick mind picking up on patterns and inconsistencies that others might have missed. Every so often, he'd glance up to find Matteo watching him with an intensity that made his skin prickle.

Finally, Enzo sat back with a sigh. "I think I've found something," he said, pushing the folder towards Matteo. "There's a discrepancy in the shipping manifests for the docks. Looks like someone's skimming off the top."

Matteo leaned forward, his brow furrowing as he examined Enzo's notes. Their hands brushed as he took the folder, and Enzo had to suppress a gasp at the jolt of electricity that passed between them.

"Good work," Matteo said, genuine approval in his voice. "Your father will want to know about this."

Enzo preened a bit under the praise, warmth blooming in his chest. "Thanks. So, what's next on the agenda, boss?"

Matteo's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "Now, we eat. I'm thinking takeout. Any preferences?"

Enzo blinked, thrown once again by the normalcy of it all. "Uh, pizza? As long as it doesn't have pineapple on it. That's a crime against nature."

This time, Matteo did smile – a small, private thing that made Enzo's heart skip. "Agreed. I'll place the order."

As Matteo stepped out to make the call, Enzo slumped in his chair, feeling oddly deflated. This wasn't at all how he'd imagined his 24 hours of "complete obedience" going. Where were the outrageous demands, the humiliating tasks, the barely restrained sexual tension?

When Matteo returned, Enzo couldn't keep the frustration from his voice. "Is this really all you're going to do with your win? Make me do homework and eat pizza?"

Matteo's eyes narrowed, something dark and hungry flashing in their depths. "Careful what you wish for, brat. The night's still young."

The promise in those words sent heat pooling in Enzo's gut. He opened his mouth to retort, but Matteo cut him off.

"Go set the table," he ordered. "Plates are in the cabinet above the sink. And Enzo?" He paused, his gaze raking over the younger man in a way that made Enzo's breath catch. "I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. Understand?"

Enzo nodded, not trusting himself to speak. As he headed to the kitchen on shaky legs, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into the lion's den. And God help him, he couldn't wait.

Dinner was a quiet affair, the silence broken only by the clink of cutlery and the occasional rustle of napkins. Enzo found himself hyper-aware of every move Matteo made, every subtle shift in his expression.

As they finished eating, Matteo fixed Enzo with an intense stare. "Clear the table," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Then meet me in the living room."

Enzo's heart raced as he gathered the dishes, anticipation thrumming through his veins. This was it – the moment he'd been waiting for.

When he entered the living room, he found Matteo standing by the fireplace, a tumbler of whiskey in hand. The older man's posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his shoulders that betrayed his calm facade.

"Come here," Matteo said, crooking a finger at Enzo.

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