Emilio had been staring at the slip of paper for an hour.
The bakery was closed, the scent of sugar and espresso still lingering in the air, but he wasn't thinking about work. He was thinking about him. About the man who had walked into his life like a shadow, dark and unreadable, leaving behind an invitation that felt more like a command.
He shouldn't go.
He knew he shouldn't go.
But as he sat there, turning the paper over in his fingers, a nagging voice whispered in his mind.
You're curious.
And Matteo had known it.
With a frustrated sigh, Emilio grabbed his coat and stood. Maybe he just needed to see—just confirm whatever this was, then move on. Because that's all it was.
…Right?
The address wasn't far. A quiet, upscale part of the city, where the streets were lined with sleek black cars and men in dark suits stood outside buildings with tinted windows.
Emilio's stomach twisted as he approached a building that looked more like a private club than anything else. Before he could think twice