Two
1035 Words
The silence in the office pressed on me like a weight. My heart was still hammering from the words he had just, words that had no business coming out of his mouth.
Mine.
Ricardo Moretti. My ex’s father. The man they called the King of Shadows. The most feared mafia boss in the country.
And he’d just claimed me.
I should have laughed, told him how insane he sounded, but the look in his eyes rooted me to the chair. He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t bluffing. He wasn’t testing me.
He meant it.
I forced myself to sit straighter, pressing my notebook against my thighs like a shield. “Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice brittle, “I came here for an interview, not whatever this is. If you think..” his deep straight voice cut in again
“I don’t think,” he cut in, calm, almost indulgent. “I decide. And I’ve decided you belong to me.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “You can’t just…” I paused
“people aren’t possessions. This isn’t the Middle Ages.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Says the journalist sitting in front of a mafia king in his prison office. Do you think the rules apply here?”
His voice was velvet and knives. I swallowed hard, determined not to show how much he unsettled me. “You agreed to this interview. If you don’t want to talk about your empire, your past, or why half the city still whispers your name like a curse, then I’ll just—”
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. His gaze swept over me, sharp and assessing, like he was cataloguing every inch of me. “Is it fear or anticipation?”
I clutched my pen harder, wishing I could stab him with it.
“Neither. And if you keep this up, I’ll walk out.”
His eyes flickered with amusement. “Try.”
The word slithered through me like a dare. For one reckless second, I wanted to stand and prove I wasn’t afraid, but instead, I pressed on. “Your son never once mentioned you while we were together,” I said. “Not one word. Just vague excuses about his father being too busy or too far away. Why?”
For the first time, something darkened in his gaze. It was like a storm cloud passing over the sun. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “Because Adrian is weak. And weak men hide their shame.”
I blinked, taken aback. “Shame?”
“You dated him,” Ricardo said simply. “You know exactly what I mean.”
I flinched, the memory of Adrian’s betrayal stinging fresh. I hated that Ricardo had found that wound so easily, that he could peel it open with a single sentence.
“Adrian is nothing like me,” he continued, voice low and certain. “He runs. I don’t.”
“You destroy,” I shot back. “That’s not better.”
His gaze sharpened, the edges of his jaw tightening like I’d struck something raw. But instead of snapping, he smiled. Slowly. Dangerous. “You have claws. I like that.”
“I’m not here for you to like anything about me,” I snapped.
“Yet here you are,” he said. “In my office. On my time. Breathing my air.”
I exhaled sharply, dragging the pen across my notebook just to keep my hands busy. “Fine. Let’s make this professional. Why did you agree to speak to me at all? The Ricardo Moretti I researched never entertained interviews. Why me?”
The silence that followed was thick. Then his words landed like a blow.
“Because I wanted to see you again.”
My pulse tripped. “You what?”
His eyes pinned me. “The first time I saw you, you were on Adrian’s arm. Do you know what went through my mind?”
I shook my head, my throat dry.
“That he didn’t deserve you,” he said softly. “And that one day, I’d take what did.”
My pen slipped from my fingers. “You’re insane,” I whispered.
“Or honest.”
I pushed to my feet, chest rising and falling too fast.
“This is over. Whatever game you’re playing, I’m not a part of it.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just watched me with the calm of a predator who knew exactly how the chase would end.
“You can leave,” he said finally.
The ease in his voice infuriated me. Like he already knew I’d be back.
Snatching my bag, I spun toward the door. The two guards flanking it immediately shifted, blocking my path with broad shoulders and unreadable faces.
My heart lurched. “Move,” I demanded.
Neither of them budged.
“Now!”
Still nothing.
I turned back, fury crackling through me. “Call them off.”
Ricardo rose from his chair with deliberate slowness.
Every movement, every step toward me radiated command. His gaze never left mine as he spoke.
“Let her go.”
The words rolled out like steel.
The guards stepped aside instantly, as if yanked by invisible strings.
I froze, confusion jolting through me. I’d expected him to trap me, to cage me like all the rumors said he did with anyone who crossed him. But instead he was letting me walk out.
Ricardo stopped a few feet away, his eyes burning into mine. “Run if you like, Nina.” His voice was quiet, almost tender, but every syllable made my skin prickle. “You’ll come back. They always do.”
My pulse stuttered. I didn’t trust myself to speak.
So I turned and stormed out, the sound of the heavy door slamming shut behind me echoing in my chest long after I was gone.
But no matter how fast I walked, I couldn’t shake the weight of his gaze, or the certainty that Ricardo Moretti had just set something in motion that I couldn’t stop and what the hell am I going to tell my boss at work?
- Writer
