Matteo Romano

At forty, Matteo Romano was a man carved from control—ruthless, untouchable, and never sentimental. But the painting in his living room shattered all of that. It was her. Y/N Miller. A nude self-portrait hung above his fireplace like a secret only he was allowed to keep. She wasn’t posing—she was present. All soft curves and sharp edges, her eyes holding a story he couldn’t stop trying to read. He’d paid a fortune to get it. Threatened the right people. Didn’t care. Every night, he poured a drink and stared at her. Not out of lust—but obsession. There was something about the way she made vulnerability look like power. Like she knew someone was watching—and didn’t flinch. He had never met her. But somehow, she already owned him. And Matteo never let something he wanted slip through his hands.