Forbidden Flame
Matteo’s POV
Being a bodyguard was a thing of pride in the gang. Loyalty meant everything to us. I earned that title through blood, sweat, and obedience. I didn’t take orders halfway I lived by them.
Still, I couldn’t pretend that I enjoyed everything that came with it. Protecting a teenage girl wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I joined the Romano syndicate. I’d rather be out there on the field, taking bullets for the family, than listening to the endless chatter and gossip of a spoiled princess.
But orders were orders.
And when your boss asks something of you, you don’t say no especially not to Luca Romano, the Mafia King of New York City.
So when Enzo, his right-hand man, came to get me from the rundown apartment I shared with other soldiers, I already knew my fate was sealed.
Luca wanted me to guard his daughter.
The pitying looks from my men said it all. They knew what it meant to be assigned to Sofia Romano everyone in the gang did. She was known for her fiery temper, her arrogance, and her sharp tongue.
When I walked into the Romano mansion, I could already feel the weight of wealth and power pressing aginst me. Chandeliers glimmered like a thousand tiny stars above my head.
Aria Romano, Luca’s wife, greeted me at the entrance. She was tall and graceful, with long red hair and brown eyes that seemed to pierce straight through you.
“I’m glad Sofia is in capable hands,” she said, her voice calm but polite.
“I know,” Luca replied proudly. “Matteo is one of my best men.”
Just as we were about to head upstairs, the sound of quick footsteps echoed from above. I looked up and there she was.
A flash of unruly red hair. Bright eyes full of curiosity and mischief.
“Can I see your gun?” she asked from the top of the stairs.
“No, you can’t,” Aria replied sharply before I could answer.
But the girl only smiled, completely unfazed by her mother’s tone. She walked closer, her chin raised in defiance.
“I’m Sofia Romano,” she said boldly. “And you’re Matteo.”
I hesitated, then nodded. “That’s right.”
She extended her hand, and I forced a polite smile as I shook it. “Nice to meet you,” she said, grinning as if we’d been friends forever.
“The pleasure’s mine,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.
She didn’t know it then, but her arrival would change everything.
Later that day, while I was unpacking my few belongings in the guest room assigned to me, the door creaked open.
Sofia leaned against the frame, eyes glinting with amusement.
“So… you’ll protect me with your life?” she asked, her tone half teasing, half curious.
For a moment, I didn’t answer. Then I turned to face her, my voice firm and honest.
“I will. Till my last breath.”
She didn’t smile that time. She just stared at me quiet, almost thoughtful before closing the door
I didn’t know why, but that look stayed with me long after she left.
Sofia’s POV
Matteo Ricci was nothing like I’d imagined.
I’d seen my father’s soldiers before loud, rough men who drank too much and smiled too little. But Matteo was different. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous in a quiet way that made my stomach twist every time his eyes met mine.
I never wanted a bodyguard. I’d argued with my father for days about it. But the moment I saw Matteo, I was secretly glad he’d insisted.
At first, I thought we’d get along easily. I was wrong.
He hated noise, hated my singing, hated when I went to Damian’s house for sports. It felt like he hated everything about me.
“If you hate me so much,” I snapped one afternoon, “why did you agree to be my bodyguard?”
He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. I could almost hear his thoughts: Here we go again.
“You don’t know what hate is, Sofia,” he said quietly. “And I don’t. I’m just doing my job.”
That was the moment I decided I’d make his job a living hell. If he wanted to ignore me, I’d make sure he couldn’t.
Four Years Later
Gianna was getting married.
She was only eighteen, and yet Father was giving her away like a business deal. She looked beautiful, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
No one ever asked what we wanted. Our opinions didn’t matter. Mother just whispered comfort while pretending everything was fine.
That night, I made a promise to myself. I would never end up in a loveless marriage. I didn’t care if it was tradition or duty. My life would be mine.
Matteo stood across the table, his posture straight, his expression unreadable. Always watching. Always controlled.
I held his gaze and raised my glass of wine. The burn seared my throat, but I didn’t care. I wanted a reaction from him. Something anything.
He looked away, jaw tightening. That was enough to make me reach for another glass. And another.
I was sixteen, drunk, and dizzy when he finally found me later that night. He picked me up without a word and carried me to one of the guest rooms.
“Do you think he’ll treat her well?” I mumbled, half-asleep.
“Your dad knows what’s best,” he replied quietly.
My eyelids grew heavy. My voice was barely a whisper. “What if my husband doesn’t treat me right?”
For a long moment, there was only silence. Then his voice came again, low and rough words that burned into my soul.
“I’ll kill him.”
And I believed him.
