Chapter 6 Bloodlines and Obsessions
764 Words
Dante’s POV
She walked away from me again.
I let her go, but only because I wanted to watch the way her hips moved when she stormed out of the library, clutching her bag like a shield. Every step screamed defiance.
And f**k, I’ve never wanted anything more.
Sera Vega thinks she can keep saying no, but she doesn’t understand. I don’t lose. Not on the field. Not in business. Not in life.
And definitely not when it comes to her.
Practice the next morning is brutal. Coach rides me harder than usual, like he knows something’s off. My arm aches from the repetition, but I don’t care. Every pitch I throw, I see her face. The way her lips parted when I leaned close. The way her breath stuttered when I said her name.
My teammates notice I’m locked in, maybe too much. “You good, Moretti?” one of them asks as I hurl another ball like I’m trying to kill the catcher.
I don’t answer.
Good? No. I’m starving.
After practice, the world I try to keep buried comes clawing back. My phone buzzes, the name flashing across the screen like a curse.
Matteo Moretti. My father.
I don’t want to answer, but I do. Always.
“Yeah?”
“You failed your exam.” His voice is silk over steel, smooth but cold. “Your coach called me this morning. He’s worried about your eligibility.”
I grind my teeth. “It’s handled.”
“No, it’s not.” His tone sharpens. “You think I won’t pull you off that team if you embarrass this family? Baseball is expensive, Dante. Scouts, training, travel. If you don’t deliver, I won’t waste another cent.”
I pace the locker room, fury coiling in my chest. “I told you I’ll fix it.”
“You’d better,” he snaps. “Because if you don’t, you’ll come home. And you know what that means.”
My stomach knots. Coming home doesn’t mean family dinners and hugs. It means taking his place at the table. Collecting debts. Ordering men to do things I’ve only watched from a distance. It means being swallowed whole by the Moretti name.
The line clicks dead.
I shove the phone into my bag and slam the locker shut so hard it echoes.
Sera Vega.
Her name runs through my head like a lifeline. She’s my way out. My salvation wrapped in dark hair and stubborn green eyes.
If she helps me pass, I stay on the field. If I stay on the field, I keep the scouts. If I keep the scouts, I get drafted.
And then? Freedom.
She doesn’t get it yet, but she’s not just a tutor. She’s everything.
And the more she pushes me away, the more I want to pin her down until she says yes.
That night, I make my move.
I wait outside the music building, leaning against the wall, hood up. The sound of pianos and violins drifts through the cracked windows, sweet and soft. Students file out one by one until finally, it’s her.
Sera steps into the cool night air, tucking sheet music under her arm, eyes tired but focused. She doesn’t see me at first. She’s too busy clutching her backpack like it holds her whole world.
Then her gaze lifts and freezes.
Our eyes lock.
She startles, her steps faltering, like she’s debating whether to run.
I push off the wall, slow, deliberate. “Evening, genius.”
She glares. “Are you stalking me now?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I smirk. “I was just passing by.”
“Right.” She tries to walk past, but I block her path, leaning just close enough to feel her warmth.
“You’re wasting your time fighting me,” I murmur. “We both know how this ends.”
Her chin tilts up, stubborn. “Yeah? How’s that?”
“With you tutoring me. With me passing. With me getting everything I want.”
“And what if I still say no?”
My smirk fades. I let her see the truth in my eyes—the storm, the hunger, the obsession.
“Then I’ll find another way to make you say yes.”
Her breath catches. For a second, I swear she feels it too—the pull, the fire, the inevitability of it. Then she shakes her head and slips past me, walking fast.
I let her go. This time.
Because the game has only just started.
And the thing about me?
I always win.
- Writer
