Marino VS Moretti
1084 Words
My feet moved before my brain did.
I was halfway down the hall when his hand clamped around my wrist. Hot. Possessive.
"Where do you think you're going, Moretti?"
The name hit me like ice water. Moretti.
Not Lina. Not baby.
Moretti.
I yanked back but his grip only tightened. Vito Marino turned me around and suddenly I was trapped between him and the wall. His body was heat and fury and cedar cologne. The hallway light buzzed overhead, making the scar on his jaw look sharper.
"You lied to me," he said. Low. Dangerous.
But his eyes... they were hurt. Betrayed.
"I didn’t lie," I whispered. "I just didn’t tell you."
"Same thing." His other hand caught my chin. "You let me touch you. You let me say 'mine' like I had the right."
"I didn’t know—"
"You didn’t want to know." He cut me off. "It’s easier to pretend when you don’t know the truth."
"My father killed your brother," I forced out. "My family started a war with yours ten years ago. In Milan. Two Marino men dead. We’re enemies, Vito. Blood enemies."
I said it to push him away.
Instead, his jaw ticked. "I don’t give a damn about blood. I give a damn about you."
The air left my lungs.
"You should care," I said, voice cracking. "Your family will kill me. Rocco will skin me alive and send me back to you."
"Then let him try." He stepped closer. No space left. "You think I’m scared of Rocco?"
His thumb brushed my cheekbone. A threat that felt like a promise.
"You were supposed to hate me," I said. Tears burned. "That’s how this works. You kidnap me, you use me, you let me go."
Vito laughed, bitter. "You think I took you to hurt you?"
"What else?"
"Protection." The word was a blade. "Rocco wanted you dead three months ago. The day your shop opened. I took you so he couldn’t."
The floor tilted. I grabbed his shirt. "That’s a lie."
"Is it?" He stepped back, raking a hand through his wet hair. For the first time, Vito looked exhausted. "You think I like watching you flinch? You think I like that you’re afraid of me?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Because no. I wasn’t afraid. Not when he checked my locks at night. Not when he remembered two sugars in my coffee.
"Then let me go," I tried. "If you care, let me go."
His head snapped up. Eyes black. "No."
"You’re not safe out there, Lina. Not with your last name. Not with mine." He said my name soft. It undid me. "The only place you’re safe is with me."
"That’s not fair."
"Life’s not fair, Moretti." Softer now. "Neither am I."
Silence. Just our breathing.
"What happens now?" I whispered.
"Now?" His mouth curved. "Now you come to dinner. With me."
"That’s it? After everything?"
"That’s it." He held out his hand. Scarred. The hand that held me through nightmares. "Unless you’d rather I carry you."
I stared at it. Pride said no. Heart said yes.
I put my hand in his.
His phone rang. Violent in the quiet.
He answered, still holding me.
"What."
Pause. Grip tightened.
"When."
"Fine. Tell him I’ll be there."
He hung up. Stared at the phone like he wanted to break it.
"Problem?" I asked, small.
"Rocco knows you’re here." He looked at me like goodbye. "He wants to meet. Tonight. At the docks."
My blood froze. "And?"
"He wants me to hand you over. Says it’s the only way to avoid a war."
"You can’t do that. He’s your uncle. The Don."
"I’m the Don now." He stepped closer. "And I don’t give up what’s mine."
"Vito—"
"Don’t." His hand tangled in my hair. "Don’t tell me to be smart. I’ve been thinking about the family for ten years. Tonight I’m thinking about you."
He pulled me flush against him.
"I know what you are. I know what I am. And I still want you. God help me."
My hands fisted in his shirt. "They’ll come for us."
"Let them." His arms came around me. "I’ve been waiting for a war. Might as well be for something worth fighting for."
I pressed my forehead to his chest. "I don’t know how to do this."
"Neither do I." His lips brushed my hair. "But we’ll figure it out. Together."
Together. Dangerous. Like coming home.
Footsteps. Heavy. Fast.
Vito pulled back instantly, putting himself between me and the door. The Don was back.
"Stay behind me."
The door opened. Marco. Blood on his knuckles. "Boss. Rocco’s men. Three blocks out. Armed."
Vito nodded. "Arm everyone. We’re not running."
Marco looked at me. Then Vito. "Understood."
When he left, Vito turned to me. "Dinner’s cancelled."
I tried to smile. Shaky. "That’s okay. I’m not hungry."
His expression softened, then hardened. "Listen. No matter what happens tonight, you stay close. You do what I say. You stay with me."
"Promise me, Lina."
"I promise."
"Good girl." The praise hit low.
Gunfire in the distance. Too close.
Vito cursed and grabbed my hand. "Time to go."
He led me through hidden halls. Down to the basement. A safe room. Steel walls. Four monitors.
Men with guns. Rocco’s crest.
"How many?" I whispered.
"Too many." He didn’t look at me. "But we’ve got more."
Knock. Three times. Marco’s code.
Vito took something. Closed the door.
A gun. Black. Heavy.
"Do you know how to use one?"
I shook my head.
"Good. Don’t touch it unless I say. And if I say, you shoot."
He came to me. No walls.
"Lina. If anything happens to me—"
"Don’t."
"Marco will get you out. You run. You don’t look back."
"Stop." I grabbed his face. "Nothing’s happening to you."
He smiled. Sad. Real. "You don’t get to decide that, baby."
"I do." I stepped into him. "Because you’re mine too, Vito. Whether the world likes it or not."
His breath hitched.
Then he kissed me.
Not soft. Desperate. Claiming. Like it was the last time.
I kissed him back.
When we broke apart we were both breathing hard.
"Stay here. No matter what."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
He nodded and turned to leave. At the door he stopped.
"I don’t care whose name you have, Lina Moretti. You’re mine. And I don’t lose what’s mine."
The door shut. Heavy.
And I was alone, listening to a war start for me.
- Writer
