Matteo woke slowly, the world swimming in and out of focus like a badly tuned channel. His limbs felt heavy, distant—like they belonged to someone else entirely. A dull ache hummed beneath his skin, the ghost of electricity still whispering through his nerves.
God… damn it.
He tried to move.
Nothing.
His chest tightened.
Panic flared—sharp and instinctive—but died just as quickly when his vision finally sharpened.
This wasn't a basement.
This wasn't concrete or rusted chains or flickering bulbs like every horror movie he'd ever seen.
It was… expensive.
Matteo blinked.
He was secured against a wide leather couch, the kind that looked like it belonged in a showroom rather than a crime scene. The leather was dark, polished, and smelled faintly of cologne and money. Thick ropes held him in place—not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind him exactly how little control he had.
He let out a slow breath and lifted his head.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the far wall, revealing the city far below—lights scattered like stars trapped in glass.
"…A penthouse," Matteo muttered.
He huffed softly.
"Great. That rules out jumping."
The living room was massive—open, clean, and almost aggressively luxurious. Marble floors. A glass table with crystal tumblers. A chandelier that probably cost more than his shop's yearly rent.
Every detail screamed ownership.
Not comfort.
Ownership.
The soft click of a door echoed through the room.
Matteo's spine stiffened.
Aleksander stepped inside like he belonged there—because he did.
Tailored black suit. White shirt, open at the collar. No tie this time. His hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place, as if kidnapping someone was just another item on his evening schedule.
He took his time crossing the room, shoes silent against marble.
Matteo watched him with narrowed eyes.
Aleksander stopped across from him and sat in an armchair, crossing his legs with casual elegance.
For a moment, he simply observed.
Then he smiled.
"You're awake."
Matteo scoffed. "Wasn't planning on sleeping over."
Aleksander's smile widened, amused rather than offended.
"You look better conscious," he said mildly. "Much more… expressive." His eyes flared slightly like a tiger as he said that last part.
Matteo rolled his eyes. "Congrats. You tased and kidnapped a guy for lying about his FUCKING NAME."
Aleksander chuckled, leaning back.
"Confidence. I like that." His gaze swept over Matteo, assessing—not hungry, not frantic. Calculating. "You don't beg."
"Yeah," Matteo snapped. "Im not some fucking bitch."
Aleksander laughed outright at that, the sound rich and unbothered.
"You insult me in my own home," he said calmly. "You have courage. Or stupidity. Sometimes they look the same."
"Guess you'll have to figure it out," Matteo shot back.
Aleksander leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"You lied to me," he said, voice suddenly colder. "That is… disappointing."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"literally is that the only thing that comes out your fucking mouth."
Aleksander tilted his head. "You owe me honesty when I ask for it."
"According to who?"
"According to me."
Silence stretched.
Aleksander stood and walked toward the window, hands clasped behind his back. The city lights reflected in the glass, turning his silhouette into something almost unreal.
"I'm not going to force you to have sex with me. But if you don't," he continued calmly. "I'll just kill you right here slowly." He glanced over his shoulder. "Either way, you'll be screaming."
Matteo swallowed.
"…Jeez, what great options." He said, sarcasm laced in his voice.
Aleksander smiled faintly. "I know." He turned and walked over slowly and bent down inches away from Matteo. "The only reason my dick isn't inside you right now is because you stink. So go shower hm?"
Matteo grimaced at his words.
"Let me go think this over in the shower fatass."
Aleksander smirked almost like he was thinking something sly.
"The only thing fat is my cock."
He turned back and snapped his fingers once.
The ropes loosened.
Matteo stiffened in surprise but didn't move immediately, still thinking of his digisting comment.
Aleksander raised a brow. "Relax. If I wanted you dead, you would be."
Matteo rubbed his wrists as he sat up, glaring. "You have a messed-up definition of hospitality."
"You smell like fear and alleyways," Aleksander said dryly. "There is a bathroom. Shower. Change." He gestured toward a hallway. "Then tell me your conclusion."
"How about i conclude my fist up your fucking ass?" Matteo said glaring at him as he propped himself up.
Aleksander met his gaze, expression unreadable.
"Hahahahaha." Aleksander chuckled cracking his fingers.
That did it.
Matteo stood, jaw clenched. "You're insane."
Aleksander smiled. "Yes."
The bathroom was absurd.
Matteo froze in the doorway, staring.
Glass walls. Marble tiles. Gold fixtures. A shower large enough to host a family meeting. Steam still lingered faintly in the air, as if the room itself had memory.
"Unbelievable," Matteo muttered. "This bathroom is bigger than my fucking apartment."
As he stripped out of his sweat-soaked clothes, he scrubbed a hand through his hair.
You are not panicking, he told himself.
You are not trapped.
You're just… temporarily detained by a Russian psychopath.
The door creaked open.
Matteo spun. "I swear to god—"
Aleksander paused mid-step, clearly entertained.
"I want to ask you," he said casually. "why don't we fuck right here in the sho-"
Matteo grabbed a towel and hurled it at him without hesitation.
"GET. THE. FUCK. OUT. YOU. FUCKING. BASTERD."
Aleksander caught it easily, laughing. "Fiery," he said approvingly. "Very well."
The door shut.
Locked.
Matteo exhaled shakily and stepped into the shower.
Hot water poured down, heavy and steady, washing away sweat, grime, and the lingering fear clinging to his skin. Steam filled the room, fogging the glass, blurring reality just enough to let him breathe.
For the first time since the chase, Matteo let his shoulders sag.
"This is insane," he whispered.
Outside the bathroom, somewhere beyond marble and glass, Aleksander waited.
And Matteo knew—deep in his bones—that this was only the beginning.