Night settled over the estate like a held breath.
The corridors dimmed, lights lowered to a warm glow that softened the sharp edges of marble and steel. Outside, the wind stirred the trees just enough to make the windows whisper. Inside, the mansion rested—but never truly slept.
Matthew's private wing was quieter than the rest, deliberately so. No guards directly outside the doors. No staff passing through. This space was his by design.
And tonight, Vinny's.
Vinny stood near the tall window of Matthew's bedroom, shirt loose, sleeves rolled up, the city lights far below reflecting faintly in the glass. He looked relaxed—dangerously so—like someone who knew exactly how much power he held just by existing in the same room as Matthew.
Matthew watched him from the doorway.
He hadn't spoken yet. He was still taking Vinny in, the way he always did when they were finally alone. Alive. Warm. Real.
"You're staring," Vinny said without turning around.
