The Bride He Bought

What is stupidity? Stupidity is deciding to confront your father's nemesis instead of being at the only job that keeps the lights on. Stupidity is marching into Moretti Towers with nothing but anger and a handful of courage from how triggered you are from a single post. That's where I am right now, stupid, reckless, and I've thrown the consequences of what im about to do, out the window

Currently, I'm still outside the building, looking up at the tall sky scraper. There's still time for me to let go of this foolishness and just go to work. But I won't. I've come too far to back out now.

I smooth down my shirt and I walk in.

Immediately I pass through those revolving doors, I'm instantly taken aback by how cold it is in here. Shivering a little, I make my way towards the receptionist desk.

"Hi," I say, barely above a whisper. "I'd like to see Mr. Moretti."

The too polished receptionist looks up from her desk. Her eyes scan me, pause at my shoes, and then my unruly curls.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No. But he knows who I am."

That's a lie. He doesn't know who I am, but he should know my father.

Her smile is all condescension. "Mr. Moretti doesn't take walk-ins."

"I just need five minutes."

"Then email his office."

"I...look, please. Just tell him Alera Vance is here. He'll know what to do.

"Ma'am." Her smile drops. "You need to leave. Now."

I freeze.

From the corner of my eye, I spot a man in a suit slowing down near the elevator and a woman in blue, near the lounge. They both turn to stare.

I get an odd uncomfortable feeling from the eyes currently on me. I look back at the reception.

"Please Miss. It's very urgent I see him. Just...you can send him a notice. He'll know who I am?" I plead.

She doesn't respond, instead, I see her press something under the desk.

Security.

I step back just as two men in uniform approach.

"This way, ma'am."

"I'm not here to cause trouble," I say quickly, trying to smile. "I just...please, can you just tell him"

But they're already walking me out. Their grips aren't rough, but it still feels like I'm being shoved.

The moment the doors close behind me, the tears come. I blink hard, refusing to let them fall.

I should've just gone to work.

I wipe under my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. My stomach twists when I think of the time.

"What a waste of time."

I wipe my eyes again, sniffing, avoiding the eyes zoning in on me.

I move forward a little, then back again, a few people curse at me and I whisper an apology, but they are already moving ahead. I scratch the side of my ear. I should probably just go home. There's no way I can make it to the store today. I'll tell her I'm sick.

Just as I'm settling these thoughts in my mind, the doors begin to move again, I turn and I'm faced with a group of suited men walking out the door.

There are two men walking ahead, but my focus is on the third one, looking down at his phone as he walks out behind them.

It's Dante Moretti.

I'm in disbelief. His stupidly rude receptionist just threw me out because I don't have an appointment with the almighty bastard. I can't believe my luck.

He and the men head toward a sleek vehicle, signaling how quickly I can loose this luck if I don't act now.

The anger from seeing him moving like he owns the world pushes me forward and without thinking, my small voice calls out. "Hello!"

"Mr. Moretti?"

"Mr Moretti!"

The two men turn first and they come towards me and instantly keep me from getting any closer to Dante.

"Hey! Let go!"

I yank my arm, but the suits gripping me don't care. I push forward anyway, shouting past their shoulders. "I just need to talk to him! He knows me!"

One of them shoves me back. "Miss, step away."

"I said..." My voice cracks, but I push through. "...I just want to speak to him!"

They don't even look at me. They're focused on getting me out of sight before he notices.

So I do the only thing left. Which is the stupidest thing I've done today.

"You fucking thief!" The words tear out of me before I can stop them. "Answer me!"

Everything around me pauses. The guards freeze, and a few people on the sidewalk slow down just to watch me embarrass myself.

The attention instantly weakens my resolve, but it's too late to back out now, because Dante Moretti ,the man who destroyed my father's company three years ago, slowly turns towards me.

And instantly, my throat dries up.

The photos online didn't prepare me for this. Not even close. Neither did my memory of when he was within my vicinity, do justice to the man facing me right now. He's alot taller than I remembered or was it just me that grew shorter? He's definitely more broader too. And so handsome it's so distracting I almost forget why I'm here.

Almost.

He lifts one hand, flickers a finger and the men holding me back release me instantly. I yank my arm free, rubbing the sore spot where one of them had dug in.

But when he starts walking toward me, I freeze up. I will my legs to move, but they refuse, keeping me rooted in one spot. Heck all the bravery I marched in with all gone.

He's close now. And looking down at me like I'm some insect that wandered into his perfect world.

And his eyes, icy blue, cold enough to make me shiver, pin me in place. I want to run, but I can't. Not when he's looking at me like that.

He doesn't say a word. With the way he's staring down at me, I can't tell if there's recognition in his eyes or nothing at all.

Then, suddenly, his focus shifts. And he's looking over shoulder.

My instinct is to turn, but before I can move, his hands land firmly on my shoulders. They steady me in place.

His thumb hooks under my chin, forcing my head up. My eyes widen at the contact.

"Stay calm," his Italian accented voice drawls.

"Wh–".

He doesn't let me finish my sentence and he slams his mouth onto mine.

This busy street in Manhattan goes into abrupt silent.

My brain short circuits, I stop breathing. And all I can think is...

Oh. Shit.

Dante Moretti is kissing me, right in front of random passers by.

And in all my stupidity today, nothing would have ever prepared me for the bizarre turn of events.

My eyes fly wide as I shove against his chest, but his hold only tightens. His fingers dig into my curls, locking me in place, while his mouth remains unrelenting.

I try to scream and twist free, but my protest is swallowed whole as his tongue slips past my lips.

Heat envelopes my entire being. My fists bunch into the folds of his jacket, and instead of pushing him away, I cling to him. My body leans in naturally, because God help me, it feels good.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulls back.

My lips tingle, as my chest heaves, and when I look up, he is smiling. And it basically steals the air from my lungs.

Before I can even process it, his fingers slide down to capture my hand. Then he turns, tugging me with him.

I stumble after him, dazed, my brain is still a scrambled mess. The guards haven't moved. They just stare wide-eyed and stunned into silence.

So the weirdness of this whole thing isn't just peculiar to me. Excellent.

He leads me to the car, opens the door like a gentleman and leads me in.

Sitting in the car, I stare at the tinted glass, trying to piece together how in the hell I go from marching up to Moretti Towers like some fearless avenger... to being kissed within an inch of my life in front of the entire building.

It's all because of one damn article, I fixated on this morning. I was infact ready for work when I saw the post on Instagram. It was of Dante on the cover of Forbes, celebrated for his empire genius and so-called vision. Seeing him do so well while my father can barely get out of bed, while we starve and scrape, triggered something in me. That's why I marched into his tower. I just wanted some accountability.

Now here I am, and instead of answers, I have his kiss burned into my mouth.

I turn to him, but the man beside me isn't the same one who grabbed me and kissed me in front of the entire building. That man was warm and expressive, this one is every much the cold bastard he is.

"So," I say tightly, "not only are you a thief, you're a sexual predator too?"

He finally looks at me, and I shrink under the weight of his eyes. His mouth curves into a slow, predatory smile.

"Now I remember you," he drawls. "You're Glover Vance's daughter. I was really struggling back there. You look so different."

That stings.

"Different? You stole from us, that's why! You ran my father's company into the mud, that's why!"

"All of that was three years ago, Miss Vance." His voice cool like ice. "I don't understand why it has brought you all the way here."

"Because my father is sick. And every day since then has been hell. We are in debts, almost homeless and it's all because of you and...and your greed. You did this to us!"

"And what, exactly, am I supposed to do with that?"

My hands curl into fists. "I want you to acknowledge you're a fraud. Take responsibility for what you did. Frauds like you shouldn't be placed on pedestals."

"You know you should really be in jail right now."

I let out a sharp and bitter laugh. "Me? In jail? For what? For telling the truth?"

"The truth?" His jaw hardens. "The court already decided I did nothing to your father. Six lawsuits, Miss Vance. Six. He disrupted my business, tried to poison my investors, and when all else failed, he tried to drag me down with him. And yet you sit here calling me the thief?"

"You are," I snap. "You came into our lives, offered him a partnership we never asked for and he took it, because of all your lies. But all it took was three months for everything to crumble. Make that make sense, Mr. Moretti."

His eyes narrow. "That wasn't my doing. That was your father making terrible decisions. I should have sued him for fraud. He was already in ruin before I arrived." He leans closer, voice low and cutting. "I suppose daddy never told his spoiled princess he was bankrupt, did he?"

Those words snap something in me.

"Stop the car," I say.

He doesn't flinch.

"I said, stop. The. Car."

The driver keeps going.

My chest tightens. "I'm not playing, I swear to God.."

Dante sighs and motions to the driver.

The car slows and pulls to the curb.

Before it even comes to a full stop, I yank the door open.

"I hope you rot, you manipulative bastard," I spit. "I hope every single dollar you make turns to ash in your hands. You're evil. You ruin lives, and one day you will pay!"

I slam the door with everything I have. The sound echoes like thunder on pavement.

Then I walk.

Fast and furiously. Blinded by tears, by the sheer stupidity of what I have done.

What did I think was going to happen? I couldn't even articulate myself well. I should have...I could have demanded for money.

The car speeds off behind me.

I don't turn around.

I can't.

But each step away feels heavier.

My pace slows.

Stupid, idiotic me. Completely gullible. I had the opportunity to get some money and I didn't even think of it. That kiss, that kiss would have been the perfect opportunity to get some money...

I stop in my tracks. The kiss.

My eyes go wide in horror.

I let that kiss slide.

He kissed me. In front of so many people. In public. Without my consent.

My chest rises and falls erratically. I wipe my face once, twice, but the tears don't stop.

Now it makes sense why he even let the conversation about my father go on for that long. He was distracting me.

That scammer.

Oh my God.

"Fucking bastard," I whisper, choking on my breath. "You will fucking pay for that."

I roughly wipe my tears and head towards the train station.

Let's see what the cops think about kissing strangers without their consent.

The car door slams, but it barely has any effect because the person who just did that is so small. I almost laugh, but I don't.

I barely even blink.

Her sharp words, deceptively calm under that soft voice of hers ring in my head, "I hope you rot, you manipulative bastard."

She used to seem so proper, when did Miss Vance start swearing?

I rake my hands through my hair.

Our interaction though horrendous is the least of my concern.

I saw Nichole.

She was standing across the street near a cafe, with her phone clutched tightly in one hand, and an oversized sunglasses failing to hide the ridiculous wig she probably thought made her discreet.

It's been months since I've heard from her. Our last interaction was dramatic to say the least.

She'd come to my house in a silly skimpy dress, trying to seduce me. I was irritated, so irritated, I had my security team throw her out of my house screaming and kicking, late in the night.

I thought that would have drilled the memo into that thick skull of hers, it was over between us. But apparently it didn't. And she re-stratigized, returned and was going to pull that same stunt this time, infornt of witnesses.

I'd forgotten how cunny she could be.

That's why, to best her at her own game, I grabbed the tiny woman in front of me and kissed her like my life depended on it.

Seeing another woman in my arms should be more than enough. And this woman not being my regular type, should have her rethinking maybe.

I lean back against the seat and exhale, dragging a hand down my face.

Idiota.

I managed to diffuse the situation with the girl by letting the subject focus on her father. But if she remembers what happened, which she definitely would, she might decide to sue.

I can't deal with any more law suits at this time. Eyes are on me, so many people are waiting for me to make one single mistake, so the vultures can swoop in and wreck all I've built.

I glance at the driver. "Take the long route."

"Yes, sir."

I tap the screen in front of me. "Call Francesca."

It rings once.

"Sir." Her voice is brisk and alert, as usual.

"I want a deep profile on Glover Vance's daughter. Education. Criminal records. Job history. The whole tree. She came to my building this morning."

"Glover Vance daughter?" She asks in response.

"Yes. She was at the office today, and I need to have everything you can get on her in the next 24 hours."

"Ah. So that's what the front desk was panicking about," she mutters.

I didn't know she entered the building.

"She caused a scene?" I ask.

"No. The receptionist handled it well."

"Full report," I say. "By end of day."

"Noted."

"Also, call the lawyer. Schedule a meet with him this evening. It's urgent."

Francesca pauses. "Yes sir. Sir, is there something going on? You never ask for the lawyer."

I close my eyes. What do I tell her? That I kissed someone without her consent and a sexual assault case might be in the works?

I don't tell her that, instead I brush her off, reminding her to ensure the tasks I've given her is completed before tomorrow.

Then I end the call.

***

Moments later, we pull up to the private lounge on 5th where I'm supposed to be hosting a lunch with three foreign investors and the CEO of a Swiss crypto firm. I don't get out.

I remain in the car for a moment, staring at my own reflection in the tinted glass.

I used to be better than this. I never do things without thinking things through.

Damn you Nichole.

Who are the people even edging her on? I already know the answer to that question and it irritates me to no end.

I pull up my international contacts, I see the number of one of the culprits, my elder sister, Luciana, but instead of tapping it, I scroll pass and hit a number labeled Casa Moretti, Direct.

It connects after the second ring.

"Signore Moretti, how are you?." Rina's voice is gentle.

"Ciao, Rina. Is she awake?"

"No, signore. She fell asleep half an hour ago. No pain. She had a light lunch and wanted her Verdi album on loop again."

"Good."

I don't say anything more. Just listen. The background is quiet except for faint music, La Traviata. My mother's favorite.

"Grazie," I murmur. "Call me if she wakes."

"I will."

I end the call and finally step out of the car.

***

It's 3:52 PM when Francesca calls again. I answer immediately.

"You already have the re..."

"Mr Dante. Check your phone. Now." she sounds very frantic. It's odd. Francesca is never frantic.

"I don't follow social media. That's your job."

"I'll send you images then."

Before I can say anything, my screen explodes with notifications, texts, emails and alerts.

Then images.

One by one, they start flooding in through our secure chat line.

Francesca isn't even bothering with a warning anymore. Just dumping them.

And then I see it.

Me.

Kissing Miss Vance.

Outside my building.

Clear daylight. Angle-perfect. Close-up. High-res.

Her scarf slipping back. My hand on her cheek. Her eyes frozen mid-shock. The shot looks intimate.

MYSTERY WOMAN OR NEW LOVER?

IS THIS THE END OF THE NICOLE-VERSE?

FORBES BILLIONAIRE CAUGHT IN UNEXPECTED ROMANCE

I scroll. More images, people quoting it, Instagram tags, twitter edits and reddit threads popping up.

I can't understand how fast things fly on the Internet. When did I kiss her? It's not even been up to an hour.

Francesca calls back and I answer instantly.

"This is bad Mr Moretti. If this is the reason for the lawyer, then it's really bad"

I curse under my breath. "I know that Francesca ."

"I think it's best I contact her so she can be settled into keeping silent?"

"No! Just get me her information and call my lawyer now! Tell him to meet me at my place now."

"Yes sir."

"Tell Anita to get started on damage control. I want this to be snuffed out before the end of today. Pay whoever you have to, ensure I don't see this before the end of today."

She sighs. "Yes sir."

"And Francesca?"

"Sir?"

"I want Nicole blacklisted."

She goes silent.

"Every event. Every firm. Any press we own stock in. She doesn't get through the door."

A pause. "You got it."

I hang up.

The driver looks at me through the mirror.

"Sir?"

"Take me home."

I rest my head against the window as we pull off, watching the city blur past.

Nichole.

I won't be surprised if she tipped those photographers. I'm hundred percent sure that the kiss with the girl, it would have been with Nichole if I hadn't acted fast.

I drag my hands over my face.

I don't not need this bullshit at this point in my life.