Ranger - Jericho's Boys #4 - revised ch.'s 1-3 (Patreon)

These chapters have mostly stayed the same but there's been a few tweaks based on how I wrote the epilogue. I also added in some details about Seven's state of mind during the infamous proposal lunch that might help people understand why Seven is feeling some type of way lately. Keep in mind these are still unedited and unbeta'd so I may have missed a few things here and there, please try to ignore them.

Oh and Vengeful Bonds S3 starts Wednesday. :-)

Chapter 1

Enzo

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” 

Lorenzo Conti raised a brow at his brother. Lucian—Lucky to those who knew him—sat slouched in a chair on the other side of Enzo’s desk, his dirty boots kicked up on the corner. He wore dark denim jeans and a black polo shirt, his gun and badge clipped to his hip. He looked out of place in the fancy chrome and marble decor of Blackwood, Thorne & Fairchild, the law office where Enzo had worked for the better part of his career. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Enzo said, gaze darting through the glass wall of his office for the hundredth time. 

Figured the brat would be late. It was probably a good thing, considering Lucky didn’t look like he planned on leaving anytime soon. Why would he go to work when he could sit around and lecture Enzo? Of course, like Enzo, Lucky’s real job often involved not doing the cover job that paid his bills. That was just how it was in their family. 

Lucky snorted. “I mean don’t shit where you eat, asshat.” 

“Charming,” Enzo said, straightening his tie. He refused to mention how that particular ship had already sailed. “I know what I’m doing.” 

Lucky grimaced. “Every time you say that, my eye twitches.” 

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Enzo quipped. 

His brother heaved a sigh, running a hand over his close-cropped brown hair, agitated. “This isn’t one of your little fuckbois you play with at Eden. This kid comes with strings. And those strings are attached on either side to two very powerful allies: Navarro and the Mulvaneys. Mama will be pissed if you fuck up her relationship with either.” 

Enzo rolled his eyes. “You get you’re not the oldest, right?”

“What?” Lucky spit. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Enzo said mockingly, making a face at his brother. 

“Well, since the oldest is probably somewhere licking paint off the walls, you’re stuck with me. I’m just trying to save you. If you fuck up the delicate ecosystem she’s taken two decades to create, Mama will literally kill you. Without hesitation. I’m serious. She pops out babies like a Pez dispenser. She will murder you, let Dante cremate you, and make another one who looks just like you without even breaking a sweat.” 

Enzo gave him a pissy look. “She can’t. Dad’s dead. The best she can hope for is a cheap knock-off version of me. Besides, I’m her favorite.” 

Lucky snorted. “Elio’s her favorite. You’re just the most useful.” He waved a hand. “Well, aside from me.” 

Mama would say they all had their uses. And she was right. But, in this particular instance, Lucky was also right. Playing with one of Jericho’s boys would probably be a mistake. But Enzo couldn’t just let it go. He couldn’t just let him go. Still, if Mama found out Enzo was planning on turning Seven into one of his subs, she would likely put him on the menu right next to Nona’s famous lasagna. Of course, if she knew he’d already had a taste, she would make sure he suffered first.  

But Seven had started it. Hell, he’d practically begged for it, sitting in that meeting vibrating with his need for attention. All pouty and sullen, making little comments under his breath like a total brat. If Lucky thought Enzo could resist an invitation like that, he didn’t know him at all. Besides, if the biggest concern was him using the kid as a cheap one-night stand, then there was nothing to worry about. He’d technically already done that. 

No, that wasn’t true. The kid had used him as a one-night stand. And Enzo hadn’t been able to get him out of his head since. He’d been so sweet, so hot, so desperate, clawing at him and begging. They’d both gotten what they wanted out of it. 

But despite calling him Daddy that whole night, it was clear Seven was not the most experienced sub though he had implied otherwise. He’d certainly never been in a contracted relationship. According to Seven, he hadn’t ever been in any relationship. Enzo had resigned himself to keeping his brat baby as strictly spank-bank material going forward. He figured he’d felt the same since he hadn’t reached out to Enzo either. 

Until last night. 

He’d been on Enzo’s mind so much that he’d made a deal with himself: if the brat never called him again, he’d let him be, but if he reached out, he’d make him an offer. What could it hurt to ask? They were both adults. 

He liked Seven. He was gorgeous, smart, funny. But Enzo wasn’t going to waste time training him just for the possibility of a few random hook-ups. Enzo had thought long and hard—mostly, with his dick in his hand—about how he could see Seven again, but on his terms. Seven was busy, too. He probably didn’t want a relationship any more than Enzo did. He had law school, his friends…his extracurricular unalivings for Navarro. It was probably why the kid had ghosted him for the last two weeks.

He’d had no expectations when he’d handed Seven his business card that day in his office. The way he’d slunk off, barely willing to look at Enzo, he figured he’d never hear from him again. The boy had clearly seen their meeting going much differently. With those pretty green eyes and all that gorgeous golden skin, he was probably used to crooking his little finger and having a dozen men fall all over themselves. 

Enzo was not one of those men. He demanded obedience. His subs didn’t talk back, didn’t say no, and they certainly didn’t brat in private, much less in public like Seven had. If any other sub had behaved like that, he would have been permanently added to Enzo’s no list. But then he’d melted the moment Enzo put him in his place, all sulky and sad but so malleable. 

The way he’d said “yes, sir,” all grumpy and sullen. The way he’d shuddered when Enzo had called him a good boy. Enzo had spent that whole meeting fighting a hard-on. 

He hadn’t expected him to text as quickly as he had. He hadn’t expected him to ask to come over. He certainly hadn’t expected that they’d fall into bed almost immediately. But that is exactly what had happened. And it was incredible. Seven was incredible. Sweet, needy, spicy, beautiful. 

Enzo gave his brother an impatient look. “I know what I’m doing. This isn’t going to be a casual thing. I plan on keeping him around for a while. If he survives training, anyway.”

If I survive it.

“The fact that you have to train someone to date you is fucking creepy, dude.” 

“Tell me you know nothing about BDSM without telling me you know nothing about BDSM,” Enzo shot back. 

“I know enough to know that you’re a dick,” Lucky said. 

Enzo could feel the muscle of his jaw starting to twitch. “Look, everything is consensual. That’s the point. They want to submit and I want to control. There’s a contract. There are terms, and when it’s over, everyone moves on with no hurt feelings. How does that make me a monster?” 

“It doesn’t make you a monster; it makes you an emotionally unavailable partner,” Lucky retorted. 

“Thanks, Dr. Phil.” 

Lucky gave him that look, the one he hated. The one where he acted like Enzo was someone to be pitied. “You’re only acting like that because you’re afraid of someone breaking your heart again.” 

Enzo rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time since his brother had shown up. He wasn’t having this conversation again. “That was ten years ago. I play with trained submissives because it’s convenient, not because I’m afraid of getting my heart broken. If he wants a Daddy, I’m willing to train him, as long as we can come to an understanding about his expectations, namely, not to have any. I like him. He’s got sfacciataggine.” 

Besides, it was Seven who had run out on him, not the other way around. Seven was the one who told him not to be nice, not to treat him like he was important. Enzo wanted him to be important, he just didn't want him getting his heart broken when Enzo inevitably disappointed him. 

Lucky studied him. “You…you’re serious. You want to…date him?” 

That wasn’t exactly what Enzo was proposing, but Lucky didn’t need to know that. Still, his brother didn’t have to be a dick about it. 

Enzo’s brows furrowed together. “Why do you say that like I said I planned to kill and eat him?” 

Lucky gave a derisive snort. “Compared to dating you, cannibalism might be kinder.” 

He wasn’t wrong. Hurtful, but not wrong. 

Enzo grinned.

“Whatever. Your date’s biggest danger is deflating, so keep your dating advice to yourself.”

Lucky gave him a hard stare. “You’re serious. You’re gonna keep him around? You? Have you ever had a relationship that didn’t have an expiration date? At least since—” 

“Have you ever had one that didn’t require an air pump?” Enzo fired back, cutting him off. 

Lucky’s face turned an ugly shade of red. “For the last fucking time, I told you it was an initiation prank. I don’t fuck blow-up dolls.” 

“No judgment,” Enzo said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. 

He leaned back in his chair, fingers threading together across his flat stomach. No amount of deflecting could make Lucky less right. Enzo hadn’t had a serious relationship in over a decade and he didn’t plan on starting now. That was why he played at his brother’s club. He was married to his job. Relationships took too much of his time, and no matter how much he warned his partners in advance, they all grew too clingy, too needy. 

Aftercare was one thing, but Enzo didn’t have time to deal with all the drama that came with relationships. It was always the same thing. Hurt feelings over canceled plans, crying when he wouldn’t bring them to meet his family, fury because he was secretive and tended to leave home at all hours of the night. He got why they were upset, but that was why he just stayed single. 

Now, he just played with people who understood there were terms and conditions to being with him for longer than a one-night stand. Seven had been the exception to his rule, but the more Enzo thought of him– which was often–the more he realized Seven was kinda perfect. 

The beauty of Seven was that he already knew Enzo wasn’t who he said he was. He understood the need for secrecy. He could be around without fear of him overhearing something that might shock him or cause him to turn on Enzo and destroy their family. 

They could both get something out of this. If he was willing to meet Enzo’s stipulations. Would he be willing? Would he see how this could be a beneficial thing…for both of them? Seven had left him that morning. He had to see the benefit. Right?

At least, that was what he’d decided when, out of the blue, Seven had texted him again last night. It wasn’t much, just three letters delivered ten minutes before midnight: WYD. 

What you doing? Enzo had stared at it for an hour, a smirk on his face. Did the kid think he would invite him over again? Exchange dick pics? Was he looking for another hook-up? Enzo disavowed him of that idea with just two words.

Try again.

He’d jerked off later with memories of Seven crying beneath him, then went to sleep without checking to see if he’d responded. In the morning, there was nothing. Enzo had only shrugged and gotten ready for work. It had been a little past ten-thirty that morning when he’d received a new message. 

Brat Baby: How’s your day going? Did you sleep well?

God, that was so cute. Enzo had rewarded Seven’s good behavior by responding promptly. Busy. I slept about as well as I usually do. How’s your day, brat baby?

Seven responded back immediately. 

Brat Baby: Classes were canceled. Bomb scare. I’m bored. 

Enzo should have made him wait. He should have given him a polite response and then held back a few days before giving him any attention. For both their sakes. Instead, he’d invited him to lunch that same day. 

Better to rip off the Band-Aid now and see if he was even willing to play the way Enzo wanted. It was better to be upfront about what he was willing to give. 

Lucky rolled his eyes. “You and Vince are a whole other level of twisted. I don’t know how you two turned out to be such freaks while the rest of us are normal.” 

Their younger brother, Vince, owned an underground BDSM club. Lost Eden. Enzo preferred to find his playmates there since the rules were well established before anyone—them—might catch feelings. Seven was out of Enzo’s comfort zone, but there was just something about the kid he couldn’t resist, in or out of bed. 

Enzo snorted. “Normal? You’re a dirty cop whose longest relationship is with a ten-year-old basset hound named Agatha. Rafa is so high on the spectrum, his friends call him Sheldon. Oh, sorry, his friend. Singular. Gio makes junkyard dogs look like Snoopy. Dante spends his days putting people’s eyeballs on little spikes like they’re party favors. Alexi makes toys that literally kill people. And while most college kids are drinking ‘til they puke at frat parties, the twins’ idea of fun is bankrupting billion dollar corporations and redistributing their funds to overseas charities. And don’t get me started on the triplets. What about any of that is normal?” 

Lucky sighed through his nose. “Okay, fine. None of us are normal. But you and Vince are next-level kinky. At least you keep it extracurricular. Vince is such a pervert, he made it a full-time job.” 

Enzo rolled his eyes. “Who knew cops had such delicate constitutions? You make it sound like he’s a porn star and not the owner of one of the most successful clubs in the country. And don’t forget, his business is what allows us to do what we do.” 

Lucky wasn’t a hundred percent wrong about Vince. He was a bit…off. But Enzo refused to give Lucky that win. Besides, he was hardly a saint. He was a detective with major crimes at the one-ten, but his real job was keeping prying eyes off the family. Everyone had a role to play, but, for some reason, Lucky thought his made him more virtuous somehow. Mama should have just let him become a priest.

Nobody was innocent in their family. But it was for the greater good. Much like the Mulvaneys, Francesca Conti—known affectionately as Mama to the whole neighborhood—had raised her children to do bad things for good reasons. What had started out as a revenge scheme was now so much more. If Thomas Mulvaney was Batman and Jericho Navarro was Peter Pan, then Francesca Conti was Robin Hood and her children were her merry men…and women. 

The phone on his desk buzzed. Enzo pushed the button, wincing as Drucilla’s condescending voice announced, “Your…guest is here.” 

“Send him in.” Once he disconnected the call, he looked at his brother. “Get out.” 

Lucky snorted but rose to his feet. “I’m telling Mama.” 

Enzo gave him a smug look. “Go ahead. She already knows him, anyway.” 

“What?” 

“She knows all of Jericho’s boys. One of them works for her, remember?” 

Lucky blinked at him. “I thought you were joking.” 

Enzo grinned. “I’m not. If he accepts my offer, I’m gonna keep him around for a while.” 

“What are you going to tell her?” Lucky asked, narrowing his gaze at him. “Since I doubt it will be the truth.” 

“It will be my version of the truth,” Enzo countered with a shrug. 

Lucky gave him a flat stare. “The truth doesn’t have versions.” 

Enzo chuckled. “Oh, now, we both know that’s not true.” He waved him off. “Now, go away and mind your own business.” 

“I’m out,” Lucky said, shaking his head. 

As his brother opened the door, Enzo called, “Say hi to Agatha for me. Give her a big sloppy kiss. It will probably be the most action you’ve seen in years.” 

Something kicked in Enzo’s stomach when Seven appeared in the doorway, eyes going wide as he took in Lucky. His brother wasn’t as physically imposing as Enzo, but it wasn’t his physique that had Seven’s attention. It was the badge hooked to his belt. Lucky snorted when he saw the brat’s fixation, then turned to Enzo with a final, “See ya, bro.” 

With that, Enzo and Seven were alone. 

“Come in,” Enzo said, waving him forward, keeping his tone neutral as he looked the boy over. 

Seven had skipped the oversized hoodie and baggy jeans for well-fitted olive green cargos, a caramel-colored sweater, and a pair of snowy white sneakers. Perfect. He looked gorgeous. He also looked incredibly nervous, though he tried to hide it by rounding his shoulders and digging his hands into his pockets. He'd been nervous that night too. It was sexy. 

Endearing...

Shut up. 

He couldn’t afford to start thinking of Seven as anything more than a sub. It would just ruin whatever it was they could have. He clicked a button on the small white remote on his desk. Seven flinched as the automatic blinds began to slowly roll down the glass office wall. Enzo’s dick twitched with interest at his reaction. 

The younger boy hovered close to the exit, like he worried he’d have to make a run for it. 

“Come here,” Enzo said softly. 

Seven’s startled gaze flicked to his, but he complied, moving deeper into the space, his expression wary. 

Enzo tilted his head, studying him, when he stopped once more, still keeping his distance. “Are you still afraid of me?” 

Seven’s gaze jerked to his, expression mutinous. “No,” he snapped. Enzo couldn’t stop the grin that broke out across his face. This only seemed to further antagonize him. Just like that first night. “I just don’t like cops.” 

“Aren’t you in law school?” Enzo asked, amused. 

Seven narrowed his gaze. “Maybe I’m in law school to be a defense attorney? Cops lie all the time, doctor evidence, kill people.” 

“You kill people,” Enzo teased. “And I doctor evidence.  It’s just the way the world works. Not every cop is dirty. Not every defense attorney is a scumbag. But some are.” 

Seven shrugged, nodding his head abandoning his argument. “That’s really your brother?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder like he expected to find Lucky lurking behind him. 

Enzo gave a half-smile. “So my mother tells me. It’s possible she grabbed the wrong baby from the hospital. He really doesn’t look like the rest of us.” He crooked his finger at Seven, then pointed to the space in front of him. “Come here.” 

Seven licked his bottom lip, hands still buried in his pockets as he crept closer. 

“Quickly,” Enzo urged in a sing-song voice, just to watch Seven sulk. 

He glowered at him, if anything moving slower, coming to stand in the space between Enzo and his desk. Once there, he crossed his arms over his chest, widening his stance like he was trying to look intimidating. It probably worked on most people. Enzo found it kind of adorable. He found Seven kind of adorable…and that made him dangerous. 

“Why do you look so nervous?” he taunted, reaching out to run his knuckle along Seven’s thigh. “My brother’s not even here.” 

Seven looked two seconds away from jumping out of his skin. “I just don’t know why I’m here,” he mumbled. 

Enzo rolled his chair a little closer, his legs easily slipping between Seven’s. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning innocence. “You hit me up. Remember? What was it you said? Oh, right. ‘What you doing?’ What were you hoping to accomplish with that? Hmm?” 

Seven’s cheeks darkened, and he shrugged, dragging his gaze to Enzo’s with effort. “I don’t know,” he said, almost under his breath. 

He remembered to look Enzo in the eye when he answered him. God, he was going to be so good for him. His perfect boy. 

Enzo’s hands slipped behind Seven’s knees. “Oh, now, I don’t think that’s true.” One hard tug had his legs giving out, forcing him to drop onto Enzo’s thighs. “I think you knew exactly what you wanted. I think you were hoping for a repeat of that night we spent together.” 

“What difference does it make? Clearly, you weren’t,” Seven sulked, staring at Enzo’s butter yellow tie like it held the secrets of the universe. “So, I don’t know why I’m here.” 

Enzo gently gripped his chin, forcing him to look at him. “You’re here because I invited you to lunch. You don’t want to have lunch with me?”

“But why?” Seven asked, his confusion obvious. 

“Because I reward good behavior.” 

Seven blinked rapidly. “I… What does that even mean?” he asked, breathless. 

Enzo shrugged, letting his thumb trace Seven’s full bottom lip, fascinated with the way he melted at the touch. “I suppose that depends on you.” 

“How?” he asked, pupils already blown. 

Enzo ghosted his fingertips over the boy’s cheek, watching the way his eyelids fluttered. “We’ll discuss that at lunch.” 

Seven slow-blinked at him. “Okay.” 

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Enzo said, gripping the boy’s ass and yanking him higher into his lap before returning his hand to the boy’s cheek. He sucked in a startled breath, clutching at Enzo’s shoulders. 

“Am not,” Seven muttered. 

Enzo chuckled, fascinated by the way Seven allowed him to continue caressing his face, lids heavy, lips parted, half-hard in his too tight pants. He was so sensitive. He’d been sensitive that night, too. Whimpering beneath Enzo at the slightest touch. Hard to believe the kid was a stone-cold killer with the way he was trembling in his arms. 

“You call every man you meet Daddy, huh?” Enzo recalled, dragging down his bottom lip, then letting it go with a little pop. 

“Only the hot ones,” Seven murmured, pink tongue darting out to lick over the spot Enzo had just touched. 

“Well, from now on, Daddy is an honorific you earn. You can just call me ‘sir’ for now.” 

“You didn’t mind it when we hooked up,” Seven said, shoulders stiffening and jaw tight. “Besides, who says I want to call you anything at all?” 

Enzo studied his face, noting how Seven made no attempt to leave his lap. 

“Open your mouth for me, brat,” he crooned, keeping his voice low and warm.

Seven glared at him for a solid thirty seconds before parting his lips. Enzo held his gaze as he pushed two fingers past his lips, running them along his tongue, over his molars, exploring with the same thoroughness as a dentist, waiting to see how much the boy would tolerate before he snapped. 

He surprised him by sitting obediently in Enzo’s lap as he pushed on his tongue, forcing his fingers deep enough to trigger the boy’s gag reflex, though he tried to hide the way his throat convulsed. Enzo filed that away for later, trying not to think about how he’d begged to choke on his cock. He continued to keep his mouth pried open even as saliva dripped down his chin, Enzo’s dick twitching when the boy made no move to wipe it away. 

“Good boy,” Enzo praised, hooking his fingers behind his bottom teeth to drag him closer, running the flat of his tongue over his messy chin. Seven jerked his head away as Enzo removed his fingers from his mouth, wiping them on his pants. 

“Don’t call me that,” Seven snapped, green eyes flashing. “Calling me ‘good boy’ is something you earn.” 

“Touché,” Enzo said, studying his face, enjoying the back and forth a little too much. “But you want to be good for me, don’t you? You tried so hard to be good for me that night.” 

Seven shrugged, watching Enzo with his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. 

Enzo tugged his lip free. “When I ask you a question, I expect a verbal response. Remember?” 

“Why should I care what you expect?” Seven shot back. 

“You could just go,” Enzo said with a shrug. “That’s fine, too. But then you wouldn’t hear my proposal.” 

Seven stayed where he was, but he pouted about it. 

God, he was cute. 

Enzo grinned. “Good boy,” he said mockingly, just to make him mad. 

Seven didn’t correct him, instead huffing out a breath through his nose, looking so gorgeous Enzo wanted to cancel lunch and teach him all about cock-warming. Seven would love it. He’d looked so peaceful that night, his head resting on Enzo’s thigh as he stroked his cheek. 

“When I ask a question, I expect a verbal answer so there’s no miscommunication. Understand?” 

“Yes,” Seven said, sulky.  

“Yes, what?” Enzo asked quietly, raising a brow. 

Seven rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir.” 

Enzo gripped the boy by his sweater, reeling him in. When he was a breath away, he said, “I really thought you’d be harder to train.” 

“Train?” Seven mumbled. “Like a dog?” 

“Like Daddy’s good boy,” Enzo corrected. “You’re already being so good for me.” 

“Maybe I’m just humoring you?” Seven shot back. 

Enzo couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “Is that so?” 

Seven shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe I just want to hear your ‘proposal’,” he said, curling his fingers around the last word. 

Enzo stood, taking Seven with him, forcing him to stand. Once on his feet, he crowded him against the desk, planting a hand on either side of him, trapping him there. “Don’t pretend you aren’t loving this,” he taunted softly against his ear. 

Seven shoved at his chest weakly, his palms staying firmly on his pecs. “Don’t pretend you know what I love.” 

Enzo didn’t budge, cupping Seven’s face and tilting his head up. “I thought you wanted a Daddy?” he mocked. 

“I told you, I call lots of men Daddy. I was just hoping to get laid again,” Seven said, sounding like he didn’t believe his words either. “I forgot how much work you are.” 

Enzo stepped between Seven’s open legs, forcing him to rest his ass on the desk, letting his thigh press against his half-hard cock. He wrapped his hand around the back of Seven’s neck, tilting his head so he could press the words right into his ear. “You were just looking to get laid again? Should I cancel our lunch plans and let you ride my dick in my office chair? You’d look so pretty on top.” He flexed his thigh, earning a choked moan from the boy. “Or do you wanna turn around so I can bend you over my desk?” 

Seven’s gaze grew unfocused once more, his hands fisting into Enzo’s shirt as he ground himself against Enzo’s leg, looking for some friction. He was breathing heavily now. 

Enzo pushed a little more. “If you want quick and dirty, I can do that for you. I just thought you were looking for something more. Something that could benefit us both.” 

“Like what?” Seven managed, eyes locked on Enzo’s lips. 

Enzo grinned, pressing a long chaste kiss to the boy’s soft cheek. “We can discuss that at lunch. Unless you want to go the other route. There’s lube and condoms in my bag.” 

Seven was hard, his whole body trembling as he seemed to fight with himself. After what felt like an eternity, Seven pushed against him once more, sighing with relief when Enzo took a step back before saying, “Where are we eating? I’m starving.” 

Chapter 2

Seven

As always, Mama’s was packed. All outdoor tables were filled, a small line of people waited at the door. Levi said it was always busy like this. One of the few neighborhood restaurants left with reasonably priced good food. Enzo skipped the line, nodding politely, then held the door for Seven. He gave the people waiting an apologetic look, even as he tried not to focus on Enzo’s hand burning a hole through his lower back. He hated how much he’d missed his touch.

Inside was equally busy. Three waitresses made their way through packed tables, all in black pants, white button-downs, and green aprons, their dark hair pulled into ponytails that swayed as they hustled from person to person, taking orders and delivering trays topped with steaming piles of food. 

Seven’s stomach growled loudly at the smell of garlic and tomatoes. He loved Mama’s cooking. Even though she no longer did the cooking at the restaurant, she’d invited Levi and his friends–Seven included–to eat at the restaurant last Monday after his first successful night shift alone on the floor. 

He looked around, taking in the same lush green plants hanging from the ceiling and climbing down the walls, the maroon tablecloths and cozy lanterns at the center of each table. At night, after hours, the atmosphere had seemed cozy, homey even. During the day, it was busy enough to trigger Seven’s anxiety. 

He was already on edge from his brief interaction with Enzo in his office. First, learning his brother was a cop, then having the man just…destroy him mentally. He’d forgotten how intense he was. Seven still didn’t understand how it happened. He’d gone in there determined to play it cool, keep up his usual cocky persona. But the moment he’d seen him again, it was like his brain melted down like a nuclear reactor and he became this needy pathetic creature all over again. He didn’t understand why his body reacted like it did whenever he saw the older man.

Maybe if he interacted with him on days when he wasn’t an emotional mess, he could maintain some level of cool. Most people thought Seven was cool…polished, poised, articulate. His law professors praised him and they hated everyone. Jericho trusted him, the Mulvaney’s too. They thought of Seven as a responsible, hardworking member of society. 

The only person who saw Seven whenever he felt like an emotional loser was Enzo. And his sperm donor. But it was usually said donor who had him feeling that way in the first place. Just like last night. His father was out of jail on bail, using a burner phone to call and guilt Seven, telling him he was a punk for leaving his old man in jail instead of coming to bail him out. 

Usually that stuff rolled off him, but then his mother had called asking Seven to go easy on him, to give him a chance. He’d lost it, shouting at his mother in a way he never did. He could hear the tremor in her voice when they hung up, even after he’d apologized. He would never understand why his mother was so content to be part of his father’s…harem, sharing him with a dozen other women, letting him put her on the shelf and dust her off whenever he felt like it. 

He was so in his head, he didn’t realize they were entering the back of the house until Enzo held a swinging door open for him. He stepped through and found himself standing in the middle of a kitchen. The back was just as busy as the front. Three men in chef’s uniforms, bustling about, paying them no mind, shouting out orders and giving the servers a hard time. The only one who seemed to notice their arrival was a little old man loading dishes. 

“Who’s this?” he called, his curiosity etched across his face. 

“Mind your business, old man,” Enzo quipped, earning a bold laugh that reverberated through the tiled space. 

The hand at his lower back kept propelling him forward until they stood at an open office door. Francesca Conti sat at a desk in the middle of what appeared to be organized chaos. Her steel gray hair cascaded down her shoulders, white strands artfully framing her face. Her black framed glasses sat perched on her nose as she worked, unaware of her observers. 

When Enzo rapped his knuckles on the door frame, she looked up in surprise. She quickly pushed her glasses up like a headband, then stood, giving Enzo a suspicious look before coming towards them. She wore a flowy cream-colored dress and loads of chunky jewelry that his mother would have loved. Given the ages of her many children, she was likely in her fifties or sixties, but she was easily one of the most stunning women Seven had ever seen. 

When she stopped before them, she craned her neck up to look at Enzo. “To what do I owe this impromptu visit, patatino?” she asked, her Italian accent almost musical. “You never visit me midday. And why do you have this gorgeous baby with you?”

Enzo pressed his hand harder into Seven’s back. “I just thought I’d treat him to lunch.” 

“Is this a date? Oh, is he interning with you at the firm?” Before either of them could explain themselves, she continued, “Seven, whatever the reason, don't believe a word he tells you.” 

“Mama,” Enzo said, looking exasperated. 

She scoffed. “What? You brought him here and thought I wouldn’t tell him how unworthy you are of this sweet boy even in a work capacity?” 

“I just wanted to see you,” Seven lied, giving her his best smile. When they both looked at him, amused, warmth flooded his face. “You’d make a far better lunch date than this one ever will. Prettier, too.” 

She beamed at him, cupping his face in a way that was far too similar to what her son had done less than an hour ago…and two weeks ago. But she wasn’t attempting to emotionally devastate him like Enzo had. She just turned his head this way and that like she was inspecting a piece of art. 

“You’re so very handsome,” she said, like she was marveling over his beauty and not the other way around. “But you’re too young for my degenerate son. Find someone your own age. I can help you. I have many children, several better suited to your age.”

Seven snickered, looking at Enzo smugly. “Oh, yeah? Which ones?” 

She grinned, delighted. “You like only boys or you like girls, too?” 

“Sadly, just boys,” he sighed, then glanced over at Enzo, looking him up and down. “But only ones who are nice to me.” 

She sucked her teeth, looking at Enzo with exasperation. “Then look elsewhere, sweet boy. Before it's too late.” 

“Mama,” Enzo admonished. 

Seven’s mouth went dry as Enzo’s hand slipped beneath the back of his sweater, his wicked fingers teasing across the waistband of his pants. “Ignore her. She has no room to talk about age. My father was fourteen years older than her and my stepfather is ten years younger. She’s just trying to get a rise out of me.” 

His mother scoffed, dropping her hands. “Lies,” she said to Seven. “I’m trying to save you from my son and his deviant lifestyle. He collects expensive toys that are way out of his price range and then he breaks them. He’s never appreciated what he’s given, even when he’s clearly unworthy.” 

Seven’s eyes went wide. Something curdled in Seven’s stomach. How many other boys had Enzo brought here to parade in front of his mother? Was it only boys? Did he get some kind of kick out of it? Was he trying to embarrass Seven? Did she know they’d slept together? Why did it feel like he’d been kicked in the chest? 

“Mama,” Enzo said again, this time with a sharp tinge of warning in his voice. 

She just laughed like she was happy to have gotten under his skin, then slapped him on the side of his face with just enough force to not be a caress. She then turned her attention back to Seven, narrowing her gaze, slipping her glasses on and off again. “You know this though, don’t you, bellino?”

Seven’s gaze darted to Enzo, then to his mother once more. “I’m learning quickly.”

“Mm,” she said, mouth flat as she gave her son a withering look. “You seem like a smart boy. Run while you can.” 

Enzo gave his mother a brilliant smile that she did not return, then said, “I swear, I’m innocent,” he lied. “I thought he might be looking for a…mentor. I invited him to lunch to, uh…hammer out the details.” Enzo cleared his throat. “I thought it would be a good idea to let you know he’s going to be around more often.” 

Seven’s head jerked towards him, eyes going wide. When he looked back at Mama, she seemed equally caught off guard by his statement. 

“Is that so?” she asked, studying her son carefully. “Well, in that case, I look forward to seeing you more often, bellino.” 

Enzo shrugged, fingers caressing up Seven’s spine in a way that made him want to squirm. “That depends on how lunch goes.” 

She gave her son another hard stare. “Well, then. Have fun hammering out your…details.” Before they could leave, she grasped Seven’s face once more, eyeing him critically. “You should be careful,” she warned her son. “I might just make you keep this one. Imagine my beautiful grandbabies.” 

Enzo snorted. “I’m not sure my keeping him would ensure you get grandchildren with his DNA, Mama.”

“That’s why I should set him up with one of your sisters,” she said casually, waving her hand. 

This time, it was Enzo who seemed irritated. “Let’s go before my mother tries to call your mother to arrange a marriage.” 

“Call me on your way home from work. I have some questions only you can answer,” she said, then turned sharply, dress twirling around her ankles as she returned to her desk. 

Seven allowed Enzo to walk him back into the dining room on auto-pilot, weaving them through tables to a large decorative partition. He pushed on the seam and it opened, revealing a whole other dining room, this one much cozier with several small private rooms. He let Seven enter first, then caught the eye of one of the servers before closing the partition again, instantly dulling the din of the customers. 

Seven breathed a sigh of relief. All that noise had ratcheted his nerves to about a hundred. He allowed Enzo to guide him to a table in the back, then sat across from him. 

Once they were seated, Seven immediately asked, “Why am I really here?” 

“I told you, I have a proposal for you,” Enzo said vaguely. 

Seven rolled his eyes. “What does that mean, exactly? Can you just speak plainly?” 

Enzo leaned back in his seat. Seven watched the buttons strain across his powerful chest, unable to stop himself from licking his bottom lip when the older man steepled his tattooed fingers on the table. He was having a hard time believing this man and the man he’d been with that night were the same. 

Enzo at work had been so stern and gruff. But the Enzo he’d slept with had been nothing like that. He’d been direct, he’d been rough, but most of all, he’d been attentive, he’d been patient. He’d taken care of him, before, during, and after. 

This Enzo across from him was like some hybrid of the two, sliding back and forth between dickhead defense attorney and dominant Daddy. It was making Seven dizzy. He wasn’t emotionally stable for this. But who’s fault was that. He could have called Enzo at any time, but had saved it until yet another fight with his actual father. 

“We only have about an hour before I have to get back to work,” Enzo said, pulling Seven from his thoughts. “Let's talk. Okay?” 

Yes. 

No. 

Fuck.

“That is why I came,” Seven muttered. 

He stared at Enzo’s hands, remembering just how much of his body was covered in ink. He mentally shook himself. Think of literally anything else. 

“I want you to hear me out before you make any rash decisions,” Enzo started. 

Seven’s shields immediately tried to return to their upright position. He slouched in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why are you being so dramatic? Are you trying to turn me into your sugar baby or something?” 

Enzo’s gaze was hungry, predatory, like Seven was sitting there naked. “Are you applying for the position?” 

Seven cocked a brow, tone growing flirty. “Maybe. What’s my allowance?” 

Enzo’s lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “I offer very generous compensation. But, unfortunately for you, I don’t do brats. I prefer my babies obedient.” 

Something withered inside Seven’s chest, but he pushed it away.  “You already did this brat, remember? So we both know that’s not true.” 

“I made an exception,” Enzo said. 

“How benevolent of you,” Seven said, chest burning. He kept his face expressionless even though he felt like he’d been gut-punched. “So, what am I doing here if you were so dissatisfied with my services?” When Enzo continued to study him, Seven rolled his eyes. “You could have just left me on read. You didn’t need to invite me to lunch to reject me. It’s not that serious.” 

Enzo huffed out a soft laugh, the one that made him seem more…human. “No, smart mouth, I invited you here to offer you an…opportunity.” 

Seven blinked at him stupidly. “To what, exactly?” 

Enzo studied his face. “I’m offering you a contract.” 

“You want me to work for you?” Seven asked, frowning at him in confusion. “Like…an intern or something?” 

“No,” Enzo said, leaning forward. “All jokes aside, I really enjoyed our night together. I think you did too.” 

Seven’s face grew hot. “And…” he hedged. 

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in making it more of a…regular thing.” 

Seven was reeling. “You just said I was too bratty to be your sugar baby but now you’re asking to be what? My next maintenance dick appointment?” 

Enzo huffed out a humorless laugh. “I’ve never heard it put quite that way before. I was thinking something a little more…substantial than that.” 

“Meaning what?” Seven said, exasperated. “Just spit it out?” 

“I want to train you to be my new submissive.” 

In flames one moment, doused in ice water the next. He wanted to… “Train me…like a dog?” 

“Of course not.” 

He wanted him to be his…what? Servant? His concubine? Wanted to teach Seven how to…service him? “I wasn’t aware that I was in need of training. You seemed more than satisfied that night.” 

Seven should have known better. This was why he didn’t bother dating. This was why he stuck with one night stands. Enzo should have just stayed a spicy memory. 

Seven had been stupid to reach out again. This was all his fucking father’s fault. 

“That’s not what I meant. You were amazing that night. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have invited you to lunch.” 

“To ask me if you could train me to fuck you the way you like?” Seven countered, seething. 

He was being deliberately combative. He knew he was. But he was fighting the hurt clawing its way out of his chest. 

Enzo looked surprised by his response. “At least hear me out.”

Seven scoffed. “Why should I? If I wanted a blow-by-blow of how much I sucked in bed, I would have provided you with a survey when it was over.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Enzo said, stumbling over his words. “I just want to see you more. I like you–” 

“Are you sure?” Seven spat back, words dripping with animus. 

Enzo huffed a sigh like Seven was already exhausting him. “Yes. I don’t usually make offers like this–” 

“Oh, wow. I’m flattered,” Seven simpered, rolling his eyes to keep from bursting into tears. 

This was so humiliating. 

Enzo leaned in, expression strangely earnest considering the next words out of his mouth.  “You should be. Like I said, I don’t do brats. But I’m willing to make an exception for you. I…really like you.” 

Seven’s bitter laugh sounded bitter even to his own ears as he fought back the tide of emotions threatening to overtake him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch him or cry. Maybe both. Letting Enzo bend him over his desk would have been way more dignified than having to sit here and listen to Enzo offer to ‘train’ him to be his bed warmer. 

He’d make an exception for him? Was he supposed to thank him? What the fuck was he even offering him? Sure, Seven liked the idea of calling a guy Daddy. He wanted to be cared for. He wanted someone who would take the lead and let him turn off his overactive brain just for a little while. He wanted someone he could trust to know what he needed and when he needed it. He didn’t want…whatever it was Enzo was offering him. 

He didn’t trust Enzo. Not this version of him. But before Seven could tell him to go fuck himself, the partition opened and closed and one of the servers entered, her amber eyes shining with interest as she studied the two of them. 

“Who’s this?” she asked by way of greeting. 

Enzo continued to stare at Seven. “A candidate for a job at my firm,” he lied smoothly. “I wanted to treat him to lunch.” 

Boy, Enzo really didn’t care about keeping his stories straight. First, he was Seven’s mentor, now he's his potential boss? Well, given his proposal, he guessed that part wasn’t far off.

“He’s cute,” she said, as if Seven himself couldn’t hear her, boldly checking him out just like Enzo’s mom had. This girl had to be related as well. Was Seven just fly paper to the Conti family? “Is he single?” 

Seven forced himself to grin at the girl, flashing his perfect teeth at her. “He is.” 

She smiled back. “Oh, yeah? I’m Carlotta. But most people call me Carli.” She put the end of her pen in her mouth in a way that would have sent most straight guys into a frenzy. 

“I’m also very gay,” Seven said mournfully. 

“That’s good,” Enzo said tightly. “Because she’s very underage,” he said, tilting his head and giving the girl a firm look. 

Carli looked back and forth between the two of them, then rolled her eyes. “My brother clearly wants to make you do his filing and bone you. Make sure he pays you what you’re worth. He’s loaded. So is that fancy firm he works for.” 

Right. Was Enzo offering to pay him for…No. There’s no way. Not even Enzo would make that kind of proposition. 

“Carli,” Enzo said through clenched teeth. “Shut up.” 

Seven snickered when Carli rolled her eyes again. She was definitely a teenager. Enzo had said his family wasn’t afraid of him and he was right.

She stuck her tongue out at her brother, then turned to Seven. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Just water, please.” 

She nodded. “I’m sure my brother can explain the menu to you.” 

“Don’t you want to know what I want to drink?” Enzo asked, irritated. 

“No. You can have water, too,” she said. 

She gave a little wave to Seven, who returned it, then she was gone to get their drinks. 

“That’s your sister?” Seven asked once they were alone again. 

“One of them,” Enzo muttered. 

“How many do you have anyway?” he asked, desperate to change the subject. “Some people say your mom has ten kids, some say she has like fourteen. What’s the real number?” 

“I have four sisters.” 

“And a brother? The one from the office, right?” Seven asked. 

Five kids sounded far more reasonable than some of the other wild stories he’d heard. 

Enzo scoffed. “I wish. I have seven brothers.” 

“Seven!” he shouted, then winced, lowering his voice. “You’re telling me that gorgeous woman gave birth to twelve kids? Twelve? Some of them are adopted, right? Or step-siblings? Something?” 

Enzo laughed. “You have nine siblings. Why is this so shocking to you?” 

That’s right. Enzo knew his father. Somehow that just made this all so much worse. Did he feel sorry for him or something? 

“No,” Seven clarified. “My dad knocked up ten different women, all of whom hate each other, but still somehow love him. They’re not my siblings. I probably pass one on the street every week and couldn’t pick them out of a line-up. Like, your mom chose to get pregnant twelve times.” 

Enzo chuckled. “Would you feel better if I told you that she has two sets of fraternal twins and a set of fraternal triplets, one of whom you just met? So, that cuts down greatly on the amount of pregnancies.” 

“Wow. That’s…is that normal? To have that many…multiples?” Seven asked. 

Enzo shrugged. “It is when you do IVF. Though Dante and Rafa were pre-fertility treatments. So...” 

Seven’s stomach churned. He’d wanted to change the subject, but talking so casually about their families made this a little too cozy considering Enzo was trying to train him to be his new whore. Or whatever the hell it was Enzo was proposing. 

He hated this. Maybe he would have found it funny if he’d had any clue that’s what Enzo had in mind when he asked him to lunch or if Stanley hadn’t shit all over his night again. When Seven had hit the older man up last night, he’d just been testing the waters, hoping for one more night maybe. When he’d invited him to lunch, Seven had let his guard down. 

Like an idiot. 

“Why me?” Seven blurted, the words punched from his soul. 

He shouldn’t even be entertaining this. He should just get up and leave. But he’d always been a glutton for punishment. Why not stay and let the man insult him some more? 

Enzo leaned forward. “Because I need someone who knows all about my…extracurricular activities.”

Seven’s stomach sank. It was starting to make more sense. But not in any way he wanted. He sighed internally. Of course, that was why he wanted to play with him. Convenience. 

Seven’s face must have told Enzo he wanted a further explanation. 

“In the past, our families have simply existed in the same circles, with everyone agreeing to assist if or when necessary. But now, it seems like my mom is making in-roads with both Jericho and Thomas.”

“And that has what to do with me?” Seven asked, the tips of his ears on fire. 

Enzo leaned in. “You get what it’s like. You’ll understand when I have to do something outside of the law. You’ll understand when I have to cancel plans. You know what it's like to live two lives. You want a Daddy, I want to play with someone I don’t have to lie to.” He shrugged. “Unless you’re not interested.” 

“Interested in being your contracted sugar baby that you can ditch whenever you feel like it? Gosh, while that does sound tempting, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.” 

“That’s not what this is,” Enzo assured him. 

“Oh, so it would be a relationship?” Seven challenged, arching a brow at him. 

“Of sorts,” Enzo hedged. 

Seven snorted. “Talk about the bare minimum.” 

“You don’t want to even consider it?” Enzo asked, looking…hurt somehow, like Seven not wanting to be his own private sex slave was making him sad.

“Do a lot of boys take you up on this offer?” Seven asked. “Do they just jump at the chance to be treated like shit by you?” 

Enzo’s eyes went wide. “I don’t treat the boys I play with like shit. I just like to have rules and contracts. That way nobody’s feelings get hurt.” 

Seven huffed out another breath. “I’m not gonna lie, I would have felt less shitty if you’d just nailed and bailed last night. Or ghosted me. This just feels…gross.” 

 “I think you’re looking at this all wrong,” Enzo said, shaking his head. “Or maybe I’m not explaining it right?” 

“Oh, I think you’re explaining what you want perfectly. Trust me,” Seven spit. 

Enzo shook his head, holding his hands out palms up like he was surrendering. “I really like you. I liked you from the moment we met. I don’t usually like bratty subs, but there’s just something about you…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. This is a way for us both to get something we want.” 

Seven hated that he was actually a little flattered. But nobody in their right mind would agree to that. “What is it you think I want from you?” 

“A Daddy,” Enzo said. “I can be that for you. I meant it when I said I would compensate you generously.” 

Seven’s laugh sounded borderline deranged in the near empty space as he glared daggers at Enzo’s bewildered face. “Wow, you really are just looking for a sugar baby you can treat like shit.” 

Enzo shook his head, looking frustrated. “I just think you’d make an excellent sub and I felt like we kind of understood each other that night. This is an opportunity. If things work out, you might not even have to work your way through law school.” 

You won’t have to work your way through law school.

Wow. 

“You want this to last until I’m out of law school?” Seven asked. 

Enzo pulled a face that let Seven know he hadn’t meant that at all. “Well, we can discuss the terms of the contract together, including the length of contract, if you agree to let me train you.” 

Fuck this. 

“Well, this has been great but if I wanted to feel like shit about myself, I would just call my actual father,” Seven said, making to stand. Enzo snatched his wrist. Seven glared at his hand. “Let me go.” 

Enzo had the audacity to look upset. “At least stay and eat.” 

Seven’s breaths came a little faster, trying not to squirm under Enzo’s scrutiny. 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. I’m not good at talking about this shit. Most of the people I play with are not only trained submissives, but they’re not looking for a long-term contract. This is how we negotiate our time together. I thought maybe you might be looking for some mutually beneficial fun with an expiration date. That’s all.” 

This was his father’s fault. It had to be. Seven didn’t get emotional. He didn’t waste his energy crying over rich douchebags, much less rich douchebag attorneys. This was just misplaced sadness. That had to be it and his hormones convincing him Enzo meant more to him than he did thanks to whatever post-orgasmic endorphin rush he’d had that night. 

If it had been any other man, Seven would have just eaten his lunch, politely refused and had a great story to tell the others. It wasn’t like he did relationships, either. He loved to throw the word Daddy around, but not in any serious way. He wasn’t looking for hearts and flowers and all the shit his friends had. But something about this interaction with Enzo after everything they’d done that night was rubbing his heart raw.

Finally, Seven shook his head, forcing himself to act like he didn’t care. “I only texted you because you were hot and I figured I could probably tolerate your shitty personality for one night if it meant getting your dick in my ass, but I’m starting to realize no dick—especially yours—is worth this shit.” 

Enzo leaned into his space, the scent of his cologne making him dizzy. “First of all, you have a filthy mouth,” he murmured. “Second, if all you wanted was a quick fuck, I could have taken care of it at the office before we left.”

Seven just glowered at him. 

“I think I hurt your feelings, which wasn’t my intention. But if I’m wrong and you do just want a repeat of that night, we can do it right now. I can take you upstairs and fuck you pressed up against the dessert wines. Just say the word.” 

Seven’s heart jack-rabbeted in his chest. He really did have daddy issues. 

He snatched his wrist from Enzo’s grip. “I actually don’t want anything from you, so I’m gonna go.” 

Enzo’s eyes went wide, once more looking at him with surprise. “At least stay and eat lunch.” 

Seven’s chest tightened. Why did this suck so bad? He could feel his hold on his emotions unraveling. “No, thanks.” 

Enzo stood, once more catching his arm. “At least let me give you a ride wherever you’re going.” 

Seven met his gaze, horrified when he felt the words clotting in his throat. “I’m gonna be honest” he managed. “I’m fighting the urge to punch you in the face right now. So I’m gonna go before I give into that urge and get arrested.” 

“If you punch me, I won’t call the cops,” Enzo promised. 

Before Seven could respond, the partition scraped open. Carli frowned when she saw the two standing. “What are you guys doing? Are you ready to order?” 

Seven pulled his arm free. “I’m not staying, but it was nice meeting you.” 

“Seven…” Enzo called. 

Seven kept walking, tears stinging his eyes. He looked at the crowded dining room, then made for the kitchen door, determined to sneak out the back. 

When he swept past Mama’s office, she called his name. He contemplated pretending he didn’t hear her, but she hadn’t done anything wrong, and he didn’t want Thomas or Jericho to hear he’d been rude to their friend. He stopped and turned, startling when he found her standing directly behind him. 

“Oh,” she said when she saw his watery eyes. “Come here, bellino.” 

Seven let her pull him into her office, just as Enzo came barreling through the kitchen doors, heading towards him. 

“Sit down,” Mama told Seven, putting herself between him and her own son. “He clearly doesn’t want to talk to you. Go back to work. That’s all you care about anyway.” 

“Mama,” Enzo said, tone pleading. 

The desperation in his tone made Seven feel a little better, which was just pathetic really. She closed the door in his face, then shut the blinds so Seven didn’t have to look at his stupidly handsome but comically put-out face. 

“Sit, bellino,” she said, gesturing towards the chairs on the opposite side of her desk. She didn’t take her seat, but the one beside Seven, sliding a tissue box towards him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, flushing when he sniffled and an actual tear slid down his cheek. “This is so stupid.” 

“I take it this wasn’t about a mentorship at his law firm?” Seven shook his head. “What did he do to make you cry like this? Huh? Did he proposition you?” 

Seven nodded, the words stuck in his throat. “I-He was nice about it, I guess. I just didn’t see it coming. I should have after what you said when I got here. But he was so…different that night. He just didn’t act like this when we met a couple of weeks ago. I’m the idiot.” 

“Oh, bellino, this isn’t your fault. For someone so smart, he’s so stupid. My son doesn’t know what he needs. He runs away from every good thing that crosses his path.” She patted his back, a faraway look in her eyes. After a few minutes, she gave him a calculating look that made her look just like her son. “You’re in law school, yes?” 

Seven frowned. “I’m just a first year student, but yeah.”  

“How about you let me make up for my son’s terrible manners. You need an internship, right?” she asked. 

Technically, he wouldn’t need an internship until next summer at the least. Though, if he wanted any shot at a judicial clerkship, an internship would help. 

“Let me make a phone call,” she said. 

“What? No. You don’t have to do that,” Seven said, waving his hands. “It’s not that serious. Like I said, I was just caught off guard. I-I started it last night when I propositioned him for…for another hookup after I had a shitty conversation with my–.” He cut himself off abruptly. “You know what. It doesn’t matter. This was all a huge mistake.” 

“You’re a grown man,” she said, patting his leg. “You can sleep with anyone you like. He still had no right to treat you like that. I want to make it up to you. An internship–a paid internship–at a big name law firm goes a long way after graduation. I can get you into my son’s firm.” 

Seven’s eyes went wide. “Why would you…You-You really think that’s a good idea?” 

She shrugged. “The only reason my son got his foot in the door over there was me. Let me do the same for you.” 

Did he want to see Enzo every day after what had just happened? Yes. He wanted to see Enzo right now. He wanted him to apologize and tell him he was sorry and then spend the night making it up to him. But that was just a fucking fairy tale. This, however. This offer…it could set him up for life. Would he be a bad person for taking the offer? Was it any better than accepting Enzo’s shitty proposition?

“Won’t Enzo be mad?” Seven asked, staring at the closed blinds, hoping he’d already left as much as he hoped he hadn’t. 

“Oh, I hope so, bellino. I definitely hope so.”

“I-He wouldn’t be my boss or anything, right?” he asked. 

“Absolutely not. But he will have to see you every day. And work with you every day. And my son needs to learn a lesson.” 

“What lesson is that?” 

“He can’t always get what he wants, how he wants it,” she said. 

“And you think he wants me?” Seven asked, heartbeat skipping. 

“Oh, I know he does. He would have never had the balls to bring you into my restaurant and parade you around in front of me and his sisters if he wasn’t secretly hoping we’d adopt you.” 

Seven shook his head. “I don’t think that’s true. I think he just wanted me to be comfortable when he asked me to be his sugar baby or whatever.”  

“He likes you, bellino. Trust me on that. He’s just too afraid to admit it.” 

Something curdled in Seven’s stomach. “I doubt it.” 

“You’ll see,” Mama smiled. “But promise me one thing.” 

Seven nodded. “Anything.” 

“If you do decide to forgive my son, you make him grovel.” 

“Grovel?” Seven repeated. 

Mama nodded. “Yes. What is it you kids say? Walk him like a dog.”  

Chapter 3

Enzo

There was evil.

 There was diabolical.

 And then there was his mother. 

Enzo took another slug of the expensive scotch in his etched crystal glass, then shook his head. He sat slumped in his seat at the back of Lost Eden. He could feel eyes on him. He wasn’t one to just sit around drinking. Whenever he came, he came to play. But not tonight. He’d already waved off no less than three boys who’d offered to spend some time with him. But he wasn’t in the mood. He was too busy seething. 

He grabbed the bottle of Glenfiddich, popping the top and pouring another healthy shot into his glass. What the fuck was she thinking? What had he ever done to her? 

“What did I ever do to her?” he asked out loud as his brother dropped into the seat opposite him. 

Vincenzo Conti—Vince to those who knew him—raised a brow, flipping his own rocks glass upright before tugging the bottle from Enzo’s hand and pulling it towards himself. Enzo watched, expression sullen, as his brother poured a fingerful for himself, then gently slid the bottle to the center of the table. 

“So it’s true?” Vince asked. “Mom got Blackwood to hire him? Is that why you’re muttering to yourself like some lunatic conspiracy theorist?” 

Enzo ignored his brother’s snarky assessment, taking in his usual all black outfit. “I refuse to be talked down to by someone dressed like some mafioso in a bad romance novel.” 

“Right. I’m the one that looks like a criminal here,” Vince said, giving him a hard once over. 

Enzo glanced down at his maroon button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, then to his black work pants. “I just came from work.” 

“With all that ink, you look like you’re planning a prison break, Michael Scofield.” 

Enzo snorted, snatching the bottle back and filling his glass, ignoring the amber liquid still sitting untouched. 

“Come on,” Vince said. “Tell me what happened? I keep getting conflicting stories.” 

“Mom was mad at me so she got even by getting my one night stand a paid internship at my company,” Enzo said. 

“Since when does mom care about your bed buddies?” Vince asked. 

Enzo huffed out a breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Since he was one of Navarro’s kids.” 

“Jericho Navarro-Mulvaney?” Vince asked, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious. Why the fuck would you go after one of them?” 

“He came after me,” Enzo shot back. “He texted me. He propositioned me. It was only supposed to be a one night stand and now I get to look at him every day giggling at Owen Grayson.” 

“Who?” 

 “He’s the hotshot fucking attorney who’s office is across from mine. Rich, talented, hot and older, just how Seven likes them.” When Vince didn’t say anything, Enzo glanced up to find him studying him, a smirk on his handsome but annoying face. “What?” 

“You sound…jealous,” Vince said, amused. 

Enzo’s gaze darted to his brother’s. “What? No,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. “Fuck you.” 

Jealous. Yeah, right. He was irritated. Annoyed. Exasperated. But, jealous? Enzo didn’t get jealous. What was there to be jealous of anyway? It's not like Seven meant anything to him. They’d had one night together. One very hot night together. Fuck. 

“If you’re not jealous then why do you care who he interns for?” Vince asked, his smirk making Enzo want to punch him in his face. 

“Because I don’t need to watch their love affair play out across the hall from me like my own soap opera.” 

“Love affair?” Vince asked, chuckling as he brought his glass to his lips. After a small sip, he asked, “Why do you care who he falls in love with? You said you already fucked him once, right?” 

“Yeah,” Enzo said, defensively. “So what?” 

Vince nodded pointedly, like Enzo was making his point for him. “Exactly. So what? What do you care who he fucks? What exactly is mom mad about? That you had a one night stand? That can’t be it.” 

Enzo closed his eyes with a sigh, letting his head fall back on the booth. “It wasn’t the one night stand. It was what came after.”

“Did you, like, blow him off or ghost him?” 

Enzo rocketed forward, slamming his fist on the table, making everything on the surface jump. “No, that’s the thing. He ghosted me. He let me fuck him and then just went completely radio silent for two weeks.” 

“Then when did mom get involved,” Vince asked. “Carli said the kid was crying in her office. How did he get there?” 

Crying? That had to be an exaggeration. Right? Carli was known to embellish like any other teenager. Though Seven had cried for him that night too. Could one of Navarro’s avenging angels be that sensitive? He wanted to say no, but…maybe?

“I don’t think he was…crying. Not exactly.” 

Enzo knew he wasn’t explaining himself well but he didn’t want to tell Vince the whole truth. Though, he’d hear it eventually. Gossip flew fast and far in the Conti family. He was honestly surprised more of his family hadn’t tried to weigh in on this, not that it was any of their business. 

“What did you do that made him ‘not cry exactly’?” Vince asked.

“I made him an offer,” Enzo muttered, finishing his glass in one large, painful swallow.

“I thought you said he ghosted you? Did he think you had ulterior motives when you reached out to him again?” Vince asked, sounding more like it was a rhetorical question. 

“He reached out to me. Literally sent me a ‘you up’ text in the middle of the night.” 

Vince raised a brow. “And how did you respond?” 

“I told him to try again,” Enzo said. “Then I ignored him for the night.” 

Vince tilted his head, studying Enzo’s face. “So you implied you wanted something more than a hook up from him.” 

“Well, yeah,” Enzo said. “And I did. I wanted a…contractually obligated relationship with a clear end date. I even offered to train him.” 

“Train him?” Vince echoed. “To do what, exactly?” 

Enzo gave his brother a look like he was an idiot. “To be my submissive, obviously.” 

“He’s in the community?” Vince asked. 

“Well, more like an…interested party?” Enzo hedged. 

“Wait,” Vince said, frowning like he was trying to solve a complex math equation or disarm a nuclear bomb. “He’s not even one of us and you asked him to be your sub? To train him?” 

“So what?” Enzo mumbled. “Everyone starts somewhere.” 

This time it was Vince who looked exasperated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let me get this straight. You used this kid's request for another booty call to try and convince him to be your trained submissive but only for a set amount of time and only on your terms at your convenience?” 

Enzo rolled his eyes. “When you put it like that…” 

He spent the next fifteen minutes attempting to outline what he’d offered him. 

“You basically told this kid that you wanted a contractually obligated booty call who wouldn’t be mad when you had to cancel plans and that you wanted him specifically because it would be convenient not to have to lie about the less than legal shit we do.” 

“I-I wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings,” he muttered, reaching for the bottle. 

“Trying or not, you did,” Vince said. “And he’s one of Navarro’s kids? You know his best friend literally works for Mama at the restaurant. Why would you even play around with that? She takes those alliances very seriously.”

“I know,” Enzo huffed, this time slugging back his whole glass. “Like I said, I didn’t think it would like…offend him or break his heart or something,” Enzo said, not sure who he felt more sorry for, himself or Seven. “He didn’t act like he wanted a relationship when we were together that first night. He’s the one who dragged me into bed.” 

That was sort of true. If one squinted a bit. 

“What was he supposed to get out of this arrangement, other than your dick?” Vince asked. 

Enzo rolled his eyes. “He said he wanted a Daddy? I offered to be that for him.” 

“He said he wanted a Daddy?” 

Enzo huffed out a breath. “Well, he called me Daddy. What else was I supposed to think? That’s how this started. He started it.” 

“That’s very mature,” Vince said, shaking his head. “But there’s a difference between just casually calling your fuck buddy Daddy and actually looking for a dominant. You know that. Did he express any interest in BDSM at all?” 

Enzo shrugged. “It didn’t exactly come up. But that night we were together. He asked me to take charge. He asked me to instruct him. He asked me to be rough with him. Once I sanded down some of his rough edges…he was…perfect.” 

“Then what the fuck do you need to train him for? It seems like you both enjoyed your night and that he would have been down for round two. Why did you feel the need to bring contracts into this, especially knowing he wasn’t part of…this.” He gestured to the den of iniquity around them. 

“I just thought it would prevent him from…getting attached. Setting expectations is important.” 

“You didn’t tell him to set his expectations; you told him not to have any. You told him that you wanted to fuck him whenever you want, expected to be obeyed and in return you planned to disappoint him regularly.” 

Enzo once more thunked his head against the booth. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Maybe not, but that’s what you offered him.” Vince frowned. “If you had just broached the subject when you were in bed together, this probably would have gone much differently. Instead, you got his hopes up and then cut his strings. And you did it in our mother’s restaurant. What the fuck, bro?” 

Enzo slammed his glass down with just enough force to make himself feel a little better. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” 

“Me?” Vince said. “Why? Because I own this club? Because I’m a dominant? Have you ever seen me take on a sub who hadn’t come here seeking a dom? No, because I don’t play with people who don’t understand what they’re getting into.” 

Enzo’s guts felt like they were twisted in knots. “I just wanted to…” 

“Wanted to what?” Vince prodded. 

“Nothing,” Enzo muttered. 

“Listen, you and I have two very different reasons for playing here. I do it because I enjoy it. You do it to keep people at arm’s length. And Mama knows this. We all know it. Somewhere deep down, you know it too.” 

Enzo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.” 

“If you like this kid so much, why not just ask him on a date? Try to have a real relationship with him? It’s been a decade. Isn’t it time to move on?” Vince asked. 

Enzo grunted. Why wouldn’t people stop bringing up his past? “I’m not fit to be in a real relationship with anyone. I’ll only end up hurting them.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “Well, on the brightside, you already hurt him, so way to rip off the bandaid, I guess.” 

Enzo snorted, glowering at his brother. “You’re kind of an asshole.” 

“At least I’m not the asshole who has to work with the guy I asked to be my sugar baby,” Vince countered. “Talk about a hostile work environment.” 

“Yeah, for me,” Enzo fired back. “Why is nobody taking my side on this? You guys get he’s not a little kid right? He’s twenty-six.” 

“Compared to you, that’s a baby,” Vince said. “Besides, it's your own fault for choosing someone close to one of Mama’s favorites. She loves that Levi kid and loves having more access to Jericho himself. You doing a favor for Thomas has finally given her a close, personal connection with the Mulvaney family and she’s not going to let you fuck this up for her. She likes them.” 

“So this is…what? Punishment for seducing one of her…assets?” 

Vince stared at him like he was an idiot. “If you think she’s doing this to punish you and not to get you married off to someone of her own choosing, then you’re dumber than you look.” 

Enzo let his brother’s words sink in, then shook his head. “No way. She knows better than that. She knows I’ll never date anyone seriously again. I’m a permanent bachelor.” 

Vince’s mouth flattened into a hard line. “Bachelor? That word is so old-fashioned. It makes my skin crawl. Whether you think she’ll be successful or not, it doesn’t negate that she’s trying to play matchmaker.” 

“What do I do? Do I just try to make him so miserable he quits?” Enzo asked, stomach churning at the thought. 

“You have no reason to even interact with him. If you harass him, it will be you getting hauled into HR, not him,” Vince said. “Be smart about this. If you won’t try dating him, at least try to get along. Extend an olive branch. Apologize for insulting him and try to take him to lunch or something to smooth things out. Do not flirt with him.” 

Apologize? What if that just gave him false hope again? “What if it-” 

“You really over-estimate your stock value,” Vince said, clearly reading his mind.

“How so,” Enzo asked, offended. “I’m hot, successful, rich, smart.” 

“You just described ninety percent of the men in your law firm. You’re not special. The kid wasn’t in love with you. He was just insulted. Be a man and apologize.” 

“Just like that?” Enzo asked. “Just ask him to lunch and apologize? You think that will really fix things?” 

“It will if you don’t try to put your dick in him again,” Vince cautioned. 

“Oh…right.” 

Why was that thought so depressing?

Vince huffed in exasperation. “You’re fucking hopeless. You’re already thinking about sticking your dick in him again.” 

“You haven’t seen the kid, you’d understand if you did.” 

“Don’t worry,” Vince said. “I’m sure I’ll meet him at the wedding?” 

Enzo’s head jerked up to stare at his brother. How had he missed that news? Or an invitation. “Wedding? Who’s wedding.” 

“Yours, dumbass.” 

###

Two weeks had passed since Seven started working at the firm. Two weeks of watching him pass Enzo’s window a hundred times a day. Two weeks of watching him flirt shamelessly with the paralegals, two weeks of hearing that loud cackle he called a laugh. It was torture. 

The first two times they’d met, Seven had worn baggy jeans and oversized hoodies that hid his hot little body underneath. Now Enzo was forced to endure him wearing fitted trousers that hugged every curve and button down shirts that showed off surprisingly muscular forearms. The labels on his clothes cost hundreds, if not thousands of dollars. Had he already moved on? Was he someone else’s sugar baby now? 

Just the idea of it had him growling and tossing his clients folder across his desk. Someone cleared their throat, attempting to get his attention. Drucilla. She was, as always, impeccably dressed in a suit that made every other person in there look frumpy. She claimed she was dressing for the job she wanted, not the job she had. The job she had was being the assistant to the attorney’s on the floor, though her attitude often implied they worked for her. 

Even the way she cleared her throat felt condescending. 

“What is it?” Enzo asked, warily. 

“Lordes wants to see you in her office at three,” she said. 

Lordes Fairchild was the co-founder of the firm. There was rarely an occasion for them to talk. “Why exactly does she want to talk to me?” 

“Who knows?” Drucilla said, her lip curling like she smelled something bad. “Maybe she wants to make you a partner or something. Haven’t they been threatening that for years now?” 

They had. 

Enzo didn’t really care about making partner. It would help to keep his family’s extracurricular activities hidden, but it wouldn’t enhance Enzo’s already comfortable life. “Maybe. Just clear my calendar, move things around. Let me know if any clients give pushback.” 

“‘Kay,” she said, turning on her heel without so much as a goodbye. 

Enzo watched her leave before his gaze snagged on Seven. He was perched on the corner of another intern’s desk. A bubbly little blonde named Katy with a Y. He wore caramel colored khakis that were practically painted on and a creamy cable knit sweater with a zipper at the neck. His laugh cut through the office at whatever the other intern said, earning smiles from the others. 

They loved Seven. 

Everyone did.

Enzo’s insides burned as the two bantered playfully. He glanced down at the demand letter he was supposed to be drafting, then leaned back in his chair, grinding the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, hoping when he removed them, Seven would have magically disappeared. 

He was surprised to find it worked. Seven was no longer at the intern’s desk or his own. Instead, he was sitting at Owen’s desk. Did he think it was appropriate to allow an intern to sit at his desk? Did he not see how it made them look overly familiar with each other? Maybe Enzo should invite Seven out and explain it to him before others start to get suspicious of Seven’s relationship with his new boss. 

As he crossed the office, he could feel the confused glances of the others in the bullpen filled with interns and paralegals. Enzo couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a reason to visit Grayson’s office. He didn’t knock right away, just lounged against the door frame waiting for Seven to notice him. 

When it was clear that wouldn’t happen without help, he forced himself to give a cheerful, “Hey.” 

Seven flinched, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge him. 

He knocked softly on the frame. “Hello?” 

“I have a name,” Seven muttered. “Though you probably don’t even remember it.” 

“Stanley wasn’t it,” Enzo teased, wincing internally when Seven gave him a scathing look. 

Right, Seven hated his dad. With good reason, it seemed.

“Sorry,” Enzo said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I come in peace.” 

“I don’t care how you come. I’m busy.” 

Was that meant to be as suggestive as it sounded? His dick clearly thought so. What was it about this kid that just drove Enzo crazy? 

Enzo realized he’d been too wrapped up in Seven’s accidental innuendo to acknowledge he’d spoken when Seven flicked those beautiful pale green eyes at him. “What do you want?” 

“I, uh, wanted to see if I could take you to lunch?” Enzo asked, cursing himself for feeling nervous.  

Seven snorted, returning to his work. “Why? Is there another sex contract you’d like me to sign?” he asked loudly. 

Enzo’s eyes went wide, jerking around to see if anyone had been within earshot. “Damn, kid. Why not just tell the whole office? Wanna put it in the company newsletter?” 

“Maybe,” Seven said, his tone deceptively conversational. “Letting everyone know what a douchebag you are seems like a public service.” 

Enzo huffed out a humorless laugh. “Trust me, there’s not a soul in this building who doesn’t know what a douchebag I am. It probably was in the newsletter at some point.” 

Something felt floaty in his chest as he watched Seven fighting back a smile. It was gone as quickly as it came. 

He didn’t look up when he said, “I can’t. I have plans with Owen.” 

“Owen?” Enzo muttered. “Already on a first name basis? That was fast.” 

Seven tossed down the pen in his hand, leaning back to glower at Enzo. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

Enzo scoffed. “You tell me,” he shot back. “You did say that you called every hot, older man Daddy,” Enzo recalled, heart racing. 

Seven sneered at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, you think Owen’s hot? Does his wife know? I thought you preferred hot younger boys with Daddy issues and financial trouble.” 

“That’s not-” 

“Should I ask Owen if you can join us?” he asked, making for his phone that sat screen down on his desk. “Or maybe you two would like to be alone?” 

Enzo blew out an exasperated breath, already exhausted. How had this gotten so out of hand so quickly? Why couldn’t Seven just cut him some slack.

“Can you please just…behave?” Enzo asked, tone almost pleading. “I’m trying to apologize to you.” 

Seven sucked his teeth. “Apologize? For which part? Treating me like a whore or trying to pay me like one?” he asked, his voice sullen.

Yeah, he’d definitely hurt Seven’s feelings. 

Fuck. 

Where had he gone wrong? Had he just misinterpreted what Seven wanted from him? Had Seven just wanted the occasional…what had he called it…maintenance dick appointment? A guy to have on standby to pound him into the mattress then forget until next time? Had Enzo violated some unspoken agreement between them without even knowing about it? 

Or was his mother right? And Vince. Had Seven wanted more from him? More than he was capable of giving? This was why he didn’t do relationships. Or have friends. When it came to the law, his instincts were impeccable. When it came to relationships, he was fumbling in the dark every time. 

“I just want to clear the air so we don’t feel weird working in the same office,” Enzo said. 

Seven shrugged. “I feel fine. Seems to me like you’re the one feeling some type of way about this.” 

 Enzo tried again. “It just seems like the professional thing to do since our paths are bound to cross frequently.” 

“Will they? Owen specializes in cybercrimes. You work in white-collar crimes. It doesn’t seem like a lot of overlap. We can just avoid each other. Okay?” 

“Owen and I are-” 

“Owen and you are what? Are you friends or something? Do you guys hang out and…do whatever old guys do?” Seven asked, arching a brow like he already knew the answer and wanted to catch Enzo in a lie. 

Enzo didn’t miss the dig about his age. The little brat. But Seven was right. He and Owen were not friends. They were barely coworkers. If anything they were rivals for making partner. 

“We’ve had dinner a few times,” Enzo hedged. 

Seven’s brows made a run for his hairline. “That’s not what he said. He said he couldn’t remember the last time you two were even alone in the same room together.”

Enzo felt like his heart stopped beating in his chest. 

“You asked about me?” he asked, unable to hide his smirk. 

Seven rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I wanted to know how often I’d be forced to endure your presence. He assured me our paths would rarely cross. Yet, here you are.” 

Was that really all it was? Why did Enzo even fucking care? What was it about this kid that was like catnip to him? Vince had told him not to harass him or he’d end up in trouble with HR. Or worse, their mother. 

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone. But I’m here if you change your mind. See you whenever, I guess,” Enzo said. 

Seven huffed out a humorless laugh. “Don’t look so dejected. You’ll see me Sunday.” 

That brought Enzo up short. “Sunday?” 

“Mm,” he said, tone smug. “You’re mom invited me to Sunday dinners. She invited my mom, too.” 

Sunday dinners. Plural. As in more than one. Jesus, his mother wasn’t even playing chess, she was playing Risk, attempting to unite two empires. What was she thinking? Sunday dinners were sacred. They were reserved for immediate family and a handful of close friends. His mother barely knew Seven. Did she? How often did they speak since she’d gotten him this job? Would she use Seven to spy on Enzo? Or was she just playing matchmaker? He didn’t know which was worse. 

She was clearly off her nut…or having some kind of mid-life crisis. Didn’t she have plenty of other kids' lives to play with? Why couldn’t she marry off one of the others. Jericho had plenty of other kids to choose from. 

Just not Seven. If any of his brothers so much as looked at Seven in any type of way, Enzo would be the one needing an attorney. 

When he realized Seven was staring at him expectantly, he gave a jerky nod. “Oh, right. See you then.” 

Enzo forced himself to stroll back to his office like his head wasn’t spinning. But once inside, he flopped back into his seat and grabbed the remote to close his office blinds. Seven didn’t look up at him. Once Enzo was certain they’d closed, he let his forehead thump against his desk, once, twice, three times. 

He was about to do it for a fourth time when he heard Drucilla ask, “What are you doing?” 

“Meditating,” he told her, deadpan. 

There was a long pause before she said, “Sure, whatever. You’re two o’clock refused to reschedule to another day. They asked if you could meet for lunch instead?” 

Enzo sighed, forcing himself to raise his head and face her judgy pinched expression. “Sure, why not. It’s not like I have plans.” 

“O-kay?” she asked, like she wasn’t sure why that was pertinent information for her. “I’ll let them know. Where do you want to eat? Your mom’s place…again?” 

God, no. The last thing he needed right now was to see her. He was already in a weakened and susceptible state. She’d smell it on him and try to break him down. He and Seven would be engaged before dinner and married before dawn. He groaned loudly. 

“No, the Asian fusion place downtown,” he said. When she gave him another nasty look, he shrugged. “What? I just…have a craving.” 

“Cool,” she said with an epic eye roll. 

“Cool,” he muttered back, waiting until his door was closed to once again bang his head on his desk. With any luck, he’d give himself a head injury. Maybe it would help him forget about the bratty little shit across the hall and his own mother’s betrayal. 

How had things gone so wrong, so quickly?