Against the glass

The top floor of Romano Tech didn’t feel like an office — it felt like a private world where rules bent quietly under power.

Ahaan followed Matteo through the hallway, the CEO’s back straight, confident, unreadable.

He tried not to stare at the way Matteo’s hand casually rested in his pocket, how even his silence demanded attention.

They entered a glass-walled conference room.

“You’re late,” Matteo said flatly.

“I was on time—”

Matteo turned, slowly. “But I was early. So you’re late. Rule two: never be later than me.”

Ahaan clenched his jaw. “Is this a job or a punishment?”

Matteo stepped closer.

His voice dropped. “Maybe both.”

He walked past Ahaan and stood behind him, hands loosely clasped. Ahaan could feel the heat of his breath, his presence too close, too intentional.

“I brought you here because I’m bored of people who beg,” Matteo said. “You didn’t beg. You just looked at me like I was interrupting your peace.”

“I didn’t know staring at the floor was so rebellious,” Ahaan muttered.

Matteo chuckled — low and sharp. “You have a mouth on you. I like that.”

Before Ahaan could step back, Matteo’s hand brushed down his spine. Just a graze. But it lit something inside him — something hot, unwanted, and undeniably real.

He gasped.

And Matteo leaned in.

“You’re sensitive.”

Ahaan turned, stepping back instinctively — but his back hit cold glass. The city glittered behind him, but inside, the air was thick.

Matteo placed one hand beside his head, leaning in.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered again, his voice a warm breath against Ahaan’s ear.

Ahaan’s eyes fluttered closed.

Matteo’s fingers traced his wrist, then moved — slowly, deliberately — up his forearm, to the curve of his jaw.

Then lower.

The edge of Ahaan’s shirt rose just enough for Matteo to press his fingers to bare skin just above the waistband. Barely touching, barely moving.

Ahaan’s pulse spiked.

“This isn’t... professional,” he managed to say.

“I’m not interested in professional,” Matteo whispered. “I’m interested in you.”

The tension cracked.

Matteo kissed him.

Hard, commanding — like he’d been holding back for days.

Ahaan responded before he even knew what he was doing. His body leaned in, lips parting, breath caught between resistance and need.

Matteo’s hand pressed lower.

Over fabric now.

Slow pressure. Testing.

Ahaan moaned — soft, helpless — his head falling back against the glass as Matteo’s palm cupped him through the fabric, fingers teasing, not quite enough to satisfy, but too much to ignore.

“You’re already hard for me?” Matteo whispered.

“I didn’t mean—” Ahaan gasped, flushed.

“Liar,” Matteo growled against his neck, kissing, biting, owning.

And then he stepped back.

Just like that.

As if nothing happened.

“I have a meeting in five minutes,” Matteo said, straightening his cuffs. “You’ll wait outside. Quietly. Unless you need a repeat of this lesson.”

He turned and walked out, not looking back.

Ahaan was left panting, disheveled, pressed against glass — heart racing, skin burning.

He blinked slowly, trying to calm his breath.

Then he looked down.

His pants.

His eyes widened in horror.

His little brother had fully stood up.

Painfully obvious.

And worse — he was wet.

“Sh*t...” he whispered, backing away from the glass and turning to hide behind the table. His fingers tugged at his shirt, trying to cover it, trying to breathe.

The heat on his face wasn’t just embarrassment — it was confusion, shame, and something terrifying:

He liked it.

And that scared him more than anything else.

🖤 Next Chapter Tease:

Matteo calls him into his private lounge for a “calm-down chat”

Things get dangerously quiet.

Touch gets bolder.

Ahaan begins questioning what he really wants... and who he is when he’s with Matteo.

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