Page 10 of The Enforcer's Brat

Enzo wanted to argue, wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all. But a small part of him, the part that had thrilled at Matteo's display of dominance, whispered that maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Fine," he said grudgingly. "But don't expect me to like it."

The corner of Matteo's mouth ticked up in what might have been a smile. "I don't. I expect you to learn from it."

As Matteo outlined the schedule for the coming days, Enzo found his mind wandering. He couldn't shake the memory of Matteo's body pressed against his, of that low, dangerous voice in his ear. It was confusing and exhilarating all at once.

"Are you listening?" Matteo's sharp voice cut through Enzo's thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah," Enzo mumbled, flushing. "Training, studying, being a good little prisoner. Got it."

Matteo's eyes narrowed. "This attitude of yours isn't going to fly, Enzo. The sooner you accept that this is for your own good, the easier things will be."

Enzo rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, warden."

For a moment, Enzo thought Matteo might actually follow through on his earlier threat. The older man's hands clenched at his sides, a muscle ticking in his jaw. But then he took a deep breath, visibly reining himself in.

"Go get changed," Matteo said, his voice tight with controlled frustration. "We start training in ten minutes."

As Enzo trudged upstairs to change into workout clothes, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. A part of him – a larger part than he cared to admit – had been hoping Matteo would snap, would follow through on the promise of punishment.

He changed quickly, opting for a tight tank top and shorts that showed off his lean, toned body. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well have some fun pushing Matteo's buttons.

When Enzo returned downstairs, he found Matteo in the backyard, setting up what looked like a makeshift training area. The older man had changed too, wearing a fitted black t-shirt that clung to his muscular frame and track pants that did little to hide his powerful legs.

Enzo swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. It was one thing to admire Matteo in a suit, but seeing him dressed like this was a whole new level of temptation.

"Ready?" Matteo asked, turning to face Enzo. His eyes widened slightly as they raked over Enzo's form, a flicker of something hot and hungry passing through them before he schooled his features.

"Born ready," Enzo quipped, stretching his arms above his head in a way that made his shirt ride up, exposing a strip of toned stomach. He didn't miss the way Matteo's gaze lingered on the exposed skin.

"We'll see about that," Matteo muttered. "Alright, let's start with the basics. Show me your fighting stance."

Enzo adopted what he thought was a decent approximation of a boxer's stance, fists raised. Matteo shook his head, moving closer.

"No, like this," he said, his hands coming to rest on Enzo's hips. The touch, even through the fabric of Enzo's shorts, sent sparks skittering across his skin. "Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent."

Matteo's hands slid up to Enzo's shoulders, adjusting his posture. "Keep your elbows in, protect your core," he murmured, his breath hot on Enzo's ear.

Enzo suppressed a shiver, hyperaware of every point of contact between them. He could feel the heat radiating off Matteo's body, could smell the clean, masculine scent of his soap.

"Like this?" Enzo asked, his voice huskier than he intended.

Matteo stepped back, his eyes dark as they met Enzo's. "Better," he said gruffly. "Now, let's see what you can do. Try to hit me."

Enzo blinked, thrown by the sudden command. "What, just like that?"

Matteo nodded, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. "Unless you're scared."

The taunt worked exactly as intended. Enzo's competitive nature flared to life, overriding his common sense. He lunged forward, throwing a punch aimed at Matteo's jaw.

In a move too fast for Enzo to follow, Matteo sidestepped the attack, grabbing Enzo's wrist and using his momentum to flip him onto his back. Enzo hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him.

Matteo loomed over him, one eyebrow raised. "Rule number one: never let anger cloud your judgment. It makes you predictable."

Enzo glared up at him, frustration and grudging admiration warring in his chest. "Show-off," he muttered.

Matteo's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. He held out a hand, helping Enzo to his feet. "Again," he said. "And this time, think before you act."

---