Page 72 of The Toy Collector

They’re not wrong about who I’ve been. But that version of myself is dead and buried, and it all happened when I laid eyes on my toy.

“So,” Matteo says, swirling the ice in his tumbler. “Now that we’re all accounted for—and now that you’ve made it painfully clear no one here’s getting their hands on you—howisyour little intern?”

I meet his eyes and smile, slow and deliberate. “Better than your head game.”

The woman at his feet snorts mid-suck. Matteo smirks down at her. “That’s bold talk from a man who hasn’t even gotten his dick wet tonight.” Then he pulls her head back. “He isn’t wrong, you know. You’re not even acting like you’re enjoying it.”

She whines and promises she’ll do better, so he lets her get back to it. I scoff at how generous my cousin is.

“You know,” Matteo muses, “You won the blowjob lottery with your intern. She loved sucking you off.”

Remus’ brows lift slightly. “Are you honestly still thinking about that?”

I pin Matteo with my gaze. “Don’t tell me you’re fantasizing about—”

Rafe snorts. “It’s your own fault, Enzo. You let Matteo watch. What the fuck did you think would happen?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I remind myself it would be bad to kill Matteo. For one, I’d probably end up missing the crazy fucker. And, well, I don’t think Remus would appreciate it.

“Have any of you thought about my proposition?” Matteo says, smoothly changing the subject.

Remus watches him for a long moment before giving the barest nod. “You have the family’s backing.”

Even though my agreement isn’t needed, I say, “I think it’s a good idea to collect some favors. It’ll remind people you’re not giving shit out for free.”

“You should take Rafe with you,” Remus says, his tone making it clear it’s an order and not a suggestion.

Rafe smirks. “That’s code for ‘I’ll keep an eye on you so you don’t burn the whole thing to the ground.’”

Matteo lifts his glass in agreement. “It’s like no one trusts me—”

“We trust you,” I interrupt, smirking at my cousin. “Just not with flammables.”

Matteo scoffs, slouching deeper into his chair like a man perpetually unimpressed by the world around him. “That was one small fire, for fuck’s sake.” He waves a lazy hand. “And it wasn’t even the flames that were the problem—it was the explosives I stashed months prior. Completely forgot about them.”

Rafe barks out an incredulous laugh, his patience visibly thinning. “You do hear yourself, right?”

Matteo just grins. “I do. And I stand by it.”

Remus idly turns the ring on his index finger, watching the exchange with his usual measured patience. “This is why people assume you’re unhinged.”

Matteo raises his newly filled glass in mock salute. “I never said they were wrong. But I’m still everyone’s favorite cousin.”

Rafe snorts, shifting to stretch his legs out. “That’s only because I scare people, Lorenzo’s unreadable, and Remus runs a fucking empire. You win by default.”

Matteo shrugs. “A win is a win.”

I shake my head, exhaling a short laugh as I swirl the amber liquid in my own glass. This is familiar, comfortable. The banter, the ease between us—it’s a rare moment where we’re not running strategy, not making moves, just… existing.

Beneath the surface, there’s an unshakable bond that binds us all. We’d all place our lives in Matteo’s hands without a second thought. However, we’d rather avoid having him anywhere near an open flame, given his history of mishaps with fire.

Remus leans forward, finally peeling his gaze from the whiskey in his hand. “Have you told her who you are yet?”

The room stills, if only for a beat. Rafe swirls the ice in his glass like it’ll stir the silence back to life.

Matteo smirks. “Does she know she’s the intern to a man that makes presidents look like marionettes and cleans his hands with their secrets?”

“Not yet,” I reply calmly. “She knows my name is Enzo, and I guess she’s starting to piece things together.”

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