Chapter 6 DOMINIC MORETTI

Before the blood. Before the empire. Before the name meant fear-he was just a boy in a suit two sizes too big, standing at his father's funeral.

Twelve years old.

Mother gone.

Uncles watching him like he was either a threat or a tool.

He learned early: grief makes you vulnerable, and vulnerability gets you killed.

So he buried the grief deep.

His father had been the consigliere to one of the old Mafia families-never flashy, never sloppy. Dominic admired that. Respected it. But it wasn't enough.

The night after the funeral, Dominic found a ledger hidden beneath the floorboards of his father's office-names, debts, secrets worth more than bullets. He didn't tell anyone. He memorized everything.

By sixteen, he was doing collections.

By eighteen, he was giving orders.

By twenty-one, he killed his first man-not because he had to, but because someone needed to see that he would.

The rise wasn't fast. It was surgical.

He didn't want power for power's sake. He wanted control.

He wanted leverage.

But the moment he got it-

The moment he became **Dominic Moretti**, heir of nothing and ruler of everything-

He started building walls no one could climb.

Love was a weakness. Loyalty was a gamble. And softness? That was a death sentence.

So he cut softness out of himself.

Until Eva.

---

**Back in the present...**

He stood outside her door that night.

He didn't knock. Didn't speak.

Just stood there, hand hovering inches from the knob, listening to her breath on the other side of the wood.

She unsettled him.

Not because she was a threat-but because he didn't know what part of him wanted to protect her.

The killer?

Or the boy still trapped in a funeral suit, hoping someone might look at him like he was more than his last name.

Dominic clenched his jaw and turned away.

If he let her in, she'd ruin him.

And he wasn't sure yet if that would be a tragedy...

...or exactly what he wanted.

Let's continue-with **Eva** beginning to chip away at the truth while Dominic's past starts bleeding into the present. This sequence will mix quiet tension, temptation, and the haunting weight of secrets too dangerous to say aloud.

---

**Later That Night**

Eva couldn't sleep.

Not because of the silence-it was too perfect here. Manufactured. Like everything had been designed to make her feel safe without ever being safe.

No. She couldn't sleep because she'd seen something in his eyes earlier. A flicker. Something broken under all that cold calculation.

And she needed to know what it was.

The house was quiet. The walls didn't creak. The security system didn't beep. Even the shadows felt like they had manners.

She wandered through the corridor barefoot, every door locked but one.

His study.

She pushed it open quietly.

The room smelled like old paper and expensive bourbon. A wall of books, most of them worn at the edges, sat untouched. The desk was obsessively clean-except for a single box sitting in the center.

A shoebox. Taped shut.

She hesitated... then opened it.

Inside: photos. Dozens of them. Some black and white. Some newer. A boy with sharp eyes and a too-serious face. A man she assumed was Dominic's father. A woman with tired eyes and long dark hair-his mother?

And then... a letter. Handwritten. Unsent.

Eva unfolded it slowly.

> *Dominic,*

> *If you're reading this, I'm dead.*

> *I wasn't a good father, but I kept the wolves from your door. That ends with me. They'll come for you. Use the ledger. Don't trust anyone with your blood-they'll bleed you for power if they can. And if you ever love someone... don't. She'll be your weakness, and they'll use her to end you.*

>

> *You were born in a world that eats softness alive. Become steel. Or you'll be nothing at all.*

Her hands trembled.

Dominic hadn't just become cold. He'd been **forged**.

"I was wondering when you'd find that."

She jumped, spinning to find him leaning against the doorway.

Shirtless. Silent. Watching her with unreadable eyes.

"You left it out on purpose," she said.

He said nothing.

"You wanted me to see this? Why?"

He stepped into the room, the tension between them suddenly alive again.

"Because I don't want you to keep thinking I'm a monster," he said softly. "At least... not just a monster."

Eva folded the letter, heart hammering.

"Your father was right about one thing," she said, voice quiet.

Dominic raised an eyebrow. "Which part?"

"If you love someone," she whispered, "they'll be your weakness."

She didn't know who moved first-but the next second, his mouth was on hers. The kiss wasn't gentle. It was punishment. Hunger. Truth.

And still, she didn't pull away.

She kissed him back like she wanted to know every wound he'd hidden behind that steel skin.

And when he finally lifted his mouth from hers, breath ragged, his eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them.

"You're going to be the end of me," he said.

She touched his chest, right over his heart.

"Or maybe I'll be the only real thing you've ever had "