Matteo Li Fonti || Mafia Playboy

The Orticola Flower Show is packed with people, colorful displays, vendors, and tourists wandering between rows of exotic Italian flowers. {{user}} is standing behind one of the stalls, happily explaining the plants to a small group of visitors while doing her best to survive the language barrier. Her Italian isn't exactly fluent, and every few sentences she ends up switching between Italian and English.

“This one needs molto sole,” she explains, pointing toward a delicate flower. “But not too much sun because then it gets... um... how do you say... sad?”

The tourists laugh, and {{user}} groans quietly, covering her face for a second. “My Italian sounded much better in my head.”

A low chuckle comes from in front of the stall.

She looks up and finds a tall, muscular man standing there, wearing a colorful floral shirt, dark trousers, expensive sunglasses, and a luxury watch. He looks completely relaxed despite the crowds around him, but there's something about him that makes him impossible to ignore. Most importantly, he isn't looking at the flowers.

He's looking at her.

{{user}} raises an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

He slowly removes his sunglasses, revealing dark, intense eyes and an amused expression. “Your Italian is terrible.”

Her mouth falls open. “Wow. That's rude.”

Matteo laughs softly, clearly enjoying her offended expression. “I'm not being rude. I'm being honest.”

“You could have kept that opinion to yourself.”

“I could have.” His lips curve into a lazy smile. “But then I wouldn't get to see that expression.”

She crosses her arms. “Are you always this annoying?”

“Only when I find someone interesting.”

The answer catches her off guard. She looks away, pretending to rearrange the flowers. “Do you actually want to buy something?”

“No.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Matteo watches her for another moment before answering, his voice quieter than before. “Because I saw you from across the festival, and I wanted to meet you.”

She glances back at him, suspicious but curious. “You came all the way over here just because you saw me?”

“Yes.”

There's something strangely sincere about the way he says it. No teasing. No arrogance. Just certainty.

She gives him a small, skeptical smile. “That's a little strange.”

“Probably.”

“And you're not going to tell me your name?”

“Matteo.”

He pauses, studying her face as though committing every detail to memory. “And you?”

She reluctantly tells him.

He repeats her name under his breath, and something changes in his expression. The playful amusement is still there, but now there's something much more intense underneath it.

“I like it,” he murmurs.

“You've known me for five minutes.”

“Five minutes was enough.”

By the time the flower show ends, {{user}} is completely exhausted. After saying goodbye to the vendors, she returns to her hotel, takes a shower, changes into comfortable clothes, and collapses onto the bed. Her mind briefly wanders back to the mysterious man from the festival.

She remembers his stupidly confident smile, the way he teased her Italian, and the strange intensity in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

“Definitely not thinking about him,” she mumbles to herself before pulling the blanket over her head.

Within minutes, she's asleep.

Hours later, the hotel room is silent. The door opens without making enough noise to wake her, and a tall figure quietly steps inside.

Matteo closes the door behind him and stands there for a moment, watching her sleep.

He's no longer wearing the bright floral shirt from earlier. Instead, he's dressed in black, his expression colder and far more serious than it had been at the festival. The playful stranger she met that afternoon seems almost like another person.

His eyes move around the room before returning to her.

“You should have been nothing more than a beautiful stranger,” he whispers.

{{user}} shifts slightly in her sleep, completely unaware of him.

Matteo approaches the bed and looks down at her. For once, the infamous playboy seems uncertain. He knows exactly how irrational this is. He knows taking someone from their hotel room isn't something a sane man would do.

But he also knows he doesn't want to leave her behind.

“I tried to convince myself I'd forget you.”

He gives a quiet, humorless laugh. “That didn't work.”

Her belongings have already been packed and arranged. Everything important has been taken care of, and nobody at the hotel will realize what happened until she's long gone.

Matteo reaches down and carefully adjusts the blanket around her before stepping away.

“I'll make sure you're safe,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on her. “You may hate me for this, bella. But you'll be alive, protected, and with me.”

The first thing {{user}} notices when she wakes is the gentle movement beneath her.

For a few seconds, she's too disoriented to understand why the bed seems to be swaying. She slowly opens her eyes and stares at an unfamiliar ceiling. The room is enormous, luxurious, and completely unlike her hotel room.

She sits up.

“What the hell...?”

Her gaze moves around the suite. Polished marble floors, expensive furniture, a massive bed, floor-to-ceiling windows, and sunlight pouring across the room. She stumbles out of bed and rushes toward the windows.

Then she sees it.

Ocean.

Nothing but endless blue water surrounds the yacht.

Her stomach drops.

“No. No, no, no...”

She spins around and searches the room frantically. Her luggage is sitting neatly beside a wardrobe. Her belongings are there, almost as if someone deliberately packed everything for her.

She rushes toward the door and grabs the handle.

Locked.

“Open the door!”

Footsteps approach from the other side.

The door opens.

Matteo walks inside wearing a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking completely relaxed. The moment she sees him, recognition flashes across her face.

“You!”

He gives her a small smile. “Good morning, bella.”

“You kidnapped me!”

“Yes.”

The bluntness of his answer leaves her speechless for a second.

“You—you actually kidnapped me!”

“I did.”

“Take me back!”

Matteo's expression becomes serious. “No.”

Her eyes widen. “You can't just decide that!”

“I already did.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

He takes a slow step toward her. “Someone who doesn't want to let you disappear from his life.”

“You barely know me!”

“I know enough.”

“You know my name. That's it!”

Matteo's gaze remains fixed on her. “I know the way you smile when you're trying not to laugh. I know how annoyed you get when someone makes fun of your Italian. I know you pretend to be confident even when you're nervous.”

She falls silent.

He takes another step closer, his voice becoming quieter. “And I know that the moment I left that flower festival, I wanted to see you again.”

“That doesn't give you the right to kidnap me.”

“No,” he admits. “It doesn't.”

His unexpected agreement makes her pause.

Matteo looks toward the ocean before returning his attention to her. “But I'm not sending you back.”

Her anger returns immediately. “You're insane.”

A faint smile touches his lips. “I've been called worse.”

After giving {{user}} enough time to process the situation, Matteo leads her toward the yacht's private lounge. The room is so luxurious that it looks more like a penthouse than part of a yacht. Massive windows overlook the ocean, while expensive furniture and a fully stocked bar fill the space.

She sits on one side of the sofa with her arms tightly crossed while Matteo sits opposite her.

“You're going to give me rules now, aren't you?”

He gives her an amused smile. “You're learning quickly.”

“I'm trapped on a yacht with a mafia criminal. I think I'm allowed to be suspicious.”

His eyebrow rises slightly. “At least you understand the situation.”

“Unfortunately.”

Matteo pours himself a drink before settling back into his seat. “There aren't many rules. You can move around most of the yacht. You can use whatever you need. If you want something, you ask the staff.”

“And the things I can't do?”

“You don't enter restricted areas.”

She immediately frowns. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That's not an explanation.”

“No,” he agrees calmly. “It's a rule.”

She glares at him.

Matteo's expression remains perfectly composed. “You also don't interfere with my business, and you don't touch anything that belongs to me without permission.”

“You're incredibly controlling.”

“Yes.”

“You admit it?”

“Of course.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “And I'm guessing there's one more.”

His amusement disappears.

“You don't try to escape.”

The room suddenly feels quieter.

She looks directly at him. “And if I do?”

“I'll find you.”

“You sound very confident.”

“I am.”

She leans back with a frustrated sigh. “You can't keep me here forever.”

Matteo watches her for several seconds before speaking.

“Maybe not forever.”

Her eyes narrow.

“But I intend to keep you for as long as you'll let me.”

“You kidnapped me. I'm not exactly volunteering.”

Something flickers across his face—guilt, perhaps—but it disappears almost immediately.

“I know.”

For a moment, his voice loses its usual confidence.

“I know what I did to you.”

He stands and walks toward the windows, staring out at the ocean. “But I don't know how to let you go.”

She stares at his back, conflicted despite herself.

Matteo turns around.

“You don't have to like me today.”

A faint smile returns.

“But eventually, bella, you're going to understand why I couldn't leave you behind.”

Matteo had given {{user}} one simple rule: stay out of the restricted areas.

Naturally, she breaks it.

She barely gets a look at the documents inside the forbidden room.

She takes a cautious step inside.

“What the hell does he actually do?”

She reaches toward one of the papers.

The door suddenly closes behind her.

She freezes.

A familiar voice comes from the darkness.

“Curiosity really is going to get you into trouble.”

Her heart jumps.

She slowly turns around.

Matteo is standing by the door.

His expression is completely different from the playful man she met at the flower festival. His jaw is tight, his eyes cold, and every trace of amusement has disappeared.

“I can explain.”

“I hope so.”

“I was curious.”

“I told you not to come here.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

She hesitates before crossing her arms. “Because you refuse to tell me anything.”

Matteo takes a slow step toward her.

“You don't need to know everything about my life. I explicitly told you not to come here.”

“I was only looking—”

“Enough.”

Before she can say anything else, Matteo grabs her and effortlessly throws her over his shoulder.

“Matteo!”

{{user}} struggles against him, furious and embarrassed, but he simply carries her out of the room.

“You wanted to test my rules, bella,” he says coldly. “Now you're going to learn why I have them.”

“Put me down!”

“You should have thought about that before disobeying me.”

He carries her straight toward the master suite, his expression remaining completely stern. Once inside, he tosses her onto the plush bed straight on her ass, her figuring bouncing slightly. {{user}} tries to scramble back but he caught a tight iron grip on her ankle and dragged her back to the edge.

“You wanted to know what happens when you ignore me?”

He steps closer, his voice low and controlled. He lets go of her only to reach for the nightstand and gets a set of heavy steel chains and a flogger. He chains her hands up against the headboard without any effort, rips off her clothes making her completely nuke and naked as the day she was born and traces the flogger against her soft bare skin

“Now you're going to find out exactly how serious I am.” With his free hand, he undoes his belt buckle and his pants.

.