The Captain's Ruin; The Forbidden Twin

“Stop fidgeting, Alessandra. You look like you don’t want to be here.” I froze. My father’s voice always had a way of cutting through a crowded room. I let my hands drop to my sides and stared at my reflection in the large windows of the penthouse. “Maybe I don’t,” I said. I kept my voice low so the people around us wouldn't hear. Dante Moretti stepped up beside me. He didn't look at me; he looked at our reflections in the glass. He adjusted the front of his suit, looking exactly like the powerful man the world thought he was. He had always treated me more like a son than a daughter, grooming me strictly to take over the family empire because he demanded a ruthless heir. “It’s an engagement party,” he said, his jaw tight. “Smile. There are cameras everywhere. Those cameras represent our stock growth. If you look miserable, the investors look worried.” “Is that all she is to you?” I turned to face him. “A business deal? A percentage?” Across the room, my twin sister, Bianca, was surrounded by people in expensive clothes. She was laughing, but I could see the way her shoulders were hunched. “She is a Moretti,” my father snapped. “She knows her duty to this family. Unlike you, who thinks your life is a hobby. I paid for four years at Harvard so you could come back and lead this company like a man, not mope around a party.” “I have the degree, Father,” I said, the words feeling heavy. “I did exactly what you asked. I’ve been back from Cambridge for two days, and I’m already sitting in meetings I hate. I have the paper, but I don't have the heart for it.” “Then act like it,” he said. He reached out and gripped my shoulder tight. It wasn't a kind gesture. It was a warning. “Stop looking like you’re mourning a life you never had. Look at your Uncle Marco. He tried to defy me, tried to build some foolish life of his own outside this family. I shut him down completely before his little dream could even bloom. I will do the exact same to you if you embarrass us.” He walked away without waiting for me to speak. I stood there alone, watching the professional photographers near the entrance. Every time a lens zoomed or a flash went off, I felt a sharp itch in my chest. I didn't want to be the one in front of the camera; I wanted to be the one behind it. Instead, I was just trapped in a stiff designer suit, molded into the corporate tool he wanted. I felt a small, cold hand slip into mine. I didn't have to look to know it was Bianca. “He’s getting louder,” she murmured. She wasn't looking at me either. “He’s just getting bolder because people are watching,” I said. I squeezed her hand. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine, Sandra,” she said, though her voice sounded far away. “It’s just some guy I’ve only met twice.” She finally looked at me, her eyes glassing over. “Father told me more about him today. He’s the captain of the Titans. He’s everything Father likes—big, famous, a fighter. He calls him a warrior.” A surge of anger hit me. “I don’t care who he is. I don’t want to hear his name. I’m not interested in the man stealing my sister.” “Sandra, you should at least know—” “No,” I cut her off. “I’m not interested in a man handpicked by our father. He probably only cares about the Moretti name anyway.” Bianca looked around the room, then back at me. “Go.” I blinked. “What?” “Get out of here for a few hours,” she whispered, leaning in close. “The press is focused on me. Father is busy talking to the mayor. Just go.” “I can’t leave you here with him,” I said. “I’ve been with him my whole life, Sandra. One night won't change that. Go find something worth taking a picture of.” She pushed me toward the door. I hesitated, looking at her one last time. She gave me a tiny nod. I turned and slipped through the door. I moved through the back hallways, dodging staff members. I didn't stop until I hit the cool night air of the alley. I flagged down a taxi and climbed into the back. I kicked off my high heels, unbuttoned the top of my dress, and let my hair down from its tight bun. I gave the driver an address to a club in a part of the city my father would never visit. When we arrived, I stood in front of a plain door in a dark basement alley. I pulled a black lace mask from my pocket, something I’d bought in secret months ago and put it on. The door opened after a quick knock. The club was a shock. The music was loud enough to feel in my bones, people were dancing and touching in a way that felt real. I walked straight to the bar and ordered a drink. I sat on the small stool, waiting for the bartender to bring in my drink, something to drown my thoughts away. “Keep them coming,” a deep voice growled next to me. I looked over. The man was huge. He was wearing a simple black mask, but I could see a sharp jawline and shoulders that looked like they could hold up the roof. He looked like he wanted to fight everyone in the room. “Rough night?” I asked. The bartender slid my drink to me, I gave him a slight nod. The man turned his head. His eyes were a piercing, frozen blue behind the mask. “Rough life. You?” “I’m not even supposed to exist tonight,” I said. I took a sip of my drink, feeling the burn in my throat. “I’m supposed to be a ghost.” The man leaned in closer. He smelled like something strong, his massive presence made my heart race for some reason I could not tell. “Is that so? You look pretty real to me.” “I don’t know who I am tonight,” I whispered. He didn't laugh. He just watched me, his gaze moving down to my mouth. “I doubt that, why have something you are not sure of? I like things I can actually touch.” The noise of the club seemed to disappear. I had spent my life being the perfect, quiet child my father could control. His words were messing with my head and his attractive presence is just too hard for me to have a logical thought. I was tired of being good. “Then touch me,” I said. He didn't hesitate. He stood up from his stool, walked straight to me and gripped the back of my neck. His large hand was hot against my skin. His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back. “Let’s take this somewhere else,” he rasped. He pulled me up gently then led me upstairs toward a private hallway leading to a room, something I had no idea about . “You don’t even know my name,” I said as we reached the door. He stopped and looked at me, his blue eyes burning right through me. “Good. I don’t want your name. I want everything else.” He pushed the door open and pulled me inside. The second the lock clicked, he pinned me hard against the door. He ripped the lace mask off my face and threw it aside. “Look at me,” he commanded. I looked. He was beautiful in a way that felt dangerous. He did not even waste a single time before he crashed his mouth against mine, and the kiss was hungry, deep, and desperate. I didn't think of my father or the party, I only thought of the way his hands felt on my body. He pulled back slowly, his eyes staring at mine as I tried to catch my breath. I was wet as hell for a complete stranger. He walked to the edge of the bed and sat on it, I already knew what he was trying to do. Without wasting a second, I wasted over to him and knelt between his legs. I was shaking as I reached down, my fingers trembling as I unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans down. He watched me with those freezing blue eyes, his fingers anchoring into my hair again, pulling my head back to look at him. “That’s it,” he growled, his voice deep and rough. “Right there. Take it all for me.”