LOGINGrace Hale was raised to be untouchable—the flawless daughter of New York’s most powerful mayor, trained to smile, obey, and survive in silence. Dean Moretti didn’t believe in untouchable. He ruled the city from the shadows, a ruthless mafia heir whose world was built on blood, control, and calculated violence. When he decided Grace would be his wife, it was meant to be a transaction—leverage, protection, necessity. But Grace wasn’t fragile. And she wasn’t obedient. The closer Dean came, the more her perfect image fractured, revealing a woman bound by secrets, fear, and a loyalty that was slowly killing her. Desire ignited where it shouldn’t have. Lines blurred where power once ruled. And obsession turned dangerous when possession began to feel like devotion. Grace and Dean were pushed into a marriage they didn't completely understand, which had the potential to either free or destroy them. Because love blossomed in the dark, it demanded everything rather than asking for permission.
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Grace 24, Dean 32
My head was spinning. Sweat assembled around my forehead was another annoying sign the situation was slipping out of my control.
I had been too close, but now, it appeared the sky split me from the ground beneath me, which I was currently pacing like some lunatic.
How did I end up here?
My restless heart pounded with one particular question even though the answer was clear. I picked up my phone and dialed the number of my second in command, also my childhood buddy Vincenzo, who was currently in the middle of a meeting.
I should have waited thirty more minutes to give him the space he needed to close the deal we had been working on for the past three weeks. But I was restless. More than I liked to. And he was the only one who could calm the hell out of me.
“I am in the meeting, Dean.” He whispered after picking up his phone on the third ring. “Can’t you wait a little longer?”
“I am aware since I am the one who sent you to this meeting, Enzo.” I snapped. “How long do you need?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Wrap it in fifteen and call me immediately.” I hissed.
“Where are you?” He sighed.
“New York. Central Park, to be precise.”
“When are you coming back?” He asked. “Rocco is getting bolder with each passing day. I don't think I can keep him on a leash much longer. This time he is moving forward with little gentleness and more noises. It's like he wants us to know he is making a move, which is ridiculous, by the way.”
“What does he want?”
“Your empire.”
Right now, Rocco was the least of my worries. That bastard needed to hold off until I dealt with the others, which were more significant and threatening to my kingdom.
The FBI killed two of my men, captured my weapon shipment, and planted a rat on my team.
Over the last few months, things took a fierce turn, and before I comprehended the mess, it was too late.
One of my loyal soldiers was found dead near our warehouse, while another was shot while he was reporting the latest shipment to Enzo over the phone. Two days later, one of my largest shipments was seized by the cops in the Pacific Ocean, and I was fucking damn sure it was anything but a coincidence.
Either the authorities gained a superpower to read my mind, or someone from inside was helping them. The latter part made more sense and was more credible.
Rocco was after my empire; he could have that if I successfully protected it from the vultures roaming all over to demolish whatever I inherited from my father.
So, yeah, fucking Rocco ought to wait to have my attention on whatever tantrums he was throwing.
“Does he know the current situation?” I kicked the pebble ahead of me to veil my annoyance.
“I don't think so.” Another sigh followed.
“Good. Make sure he knows how great we are doing. A few whispered words in his wife's ear would do the work.” I looked around, which was a mistake, as the happy faces of people were the last thing I desired to see right now.
“The next thing he would say will ruin you, Dean. He will accuse you of not marrying the Russian mafia princess. You know that too.”
“I fucking hate Russians. Those bastards are missing the word “moral” from their dictionary, and I'm not doing business with someone like them.”
“Rocco shares a wonderful friendship with them. He wanted this marriage more than anything.”
“Good for him. But I am not marrying his alliance. It is like digging my own grave. No, thank you, next.”
“Are you pacing around the park right now?” Enzo asked, and I could hear amusement in his voice.
“That is what I do when I am anxious.” I increased the velocity of my walk and now was competing with the fucking wind. “Right now, I am losing my mind, so yes, striding is all I am doing.”
My feet were frozen, my mind paused, and my eyes were unexpectedly incompetent to move from the human standing at least three feet from me.
From head to toe she was covered in different shades of pink: a coral pink silk blouse, a salmon pink knee-length skirt, and a limited edition rose pink Adidas sneaker, and she finished her devotion for pink and her ludicrous look with a bubblegum pink jacket.
Honestly, I never saw a human wrapped in so many shades of pink before. It was like she was declaring how much she needed this annoying color in her life to stay alive.
However, it wasn't her pink outfit that caught my attention; it was her eyes. The bluish-green one, which I was sure belonged to less than one percent of the population, yet it felt familiar. Like I saw them before. Like they comforted me when I was at my lowest.
And then she laughed. Not a smile but a laugh, and that single laugh with the head bent back brought out only one thing she was missing. Her laugh somehow brightened this morning, which, by the way, was already shining due to the sun. Now, it was shimmering with a golden hue. All because of her.
Her long espresso hair lazily cascaded on her back like it was proud to be where it was. Under the sunlight, the sandy highlight of her hair glowed, and it entertained me more than anything.
She was undoubtedly the most exquisite woman I have ever seen in my life. She wasn’t just a woman; she was a goddess carefully enveloped in pink.
All my senses decided to halt their respective procedures and only centralize this unknown magnificence.
The corner of my lips tugged a little, blooming a smile. Something I didn't do for a while now. But this enigmatic creature was powerful enough to do it in just fifteen seconds of seeing her.
The smile dwelled until my eyes glimpsed at the person beside her.
She wasn't alone, and the man standing with her and laughing was the one I loathed for almost my entire existence.
Who was she to him?
Their interaction appeared smooth, as if they had been in each other's lives for a long, long time. The comfort, the laugh, and the way he was talking and she was laughing indicated an intimate bond between them.
I was curious and envious all at the same time.
But then, a knot in my mind unfastened, a smile crept on my lips, and the envious blow all at once withered.
There was no point in fondling that useless feeling when I could simply change fate.
I checked her surroundings and found four CCTV cameras, all pointed at the spot she was standing. A perfect shot of her face would be in those videos.
“Dean, are you still here?” Enzo asked.
“Tell Romeo to check the CCTV of the sports bar across Central Park. There is a woman in the video. She has enveloped herself in different shades of pink. Find her and give me every little detail about this lady. You have twenty-four hours.” My eyes were still darting at the couple who were still enjoying the bright New York afternoon.
“Who is she?” Enzo asked.
“I don't know.”
“Did she do something to you?”
“No.”
“A threat to us?”
“I don't think so.”
“Does she owe us money?”
“No.”
“Possible trouble in the future?”
“That possibility is low.”
“Then why did you need to do a background check on her?”
“That is necessary. As crucial as finding the rat among us.”
“Why?”
“Because I am going to marry this woman.”
GraceGrace 24, Dean 32Something strange began to happen.It started the next morning of my performance. In the beginning I brushed it off and didn't think much of it. My instincts told me it was fine, nothing to worry about. However, now the same instincts were begging me to see what this man outside my studio really wanted.He had been following me for the past five days. Yes, five fucking days. I noticed him on the first day; he was talking to someone on the phone, appearing as just some random dude. The second day, his car went in the same direction as my car went, for three hours. Finally, on the third day, when the danger knocked on me, I witnessed him outside my house and studio.So, yes, I had a stalker, and it took me three days to understand what was happening to me.However, unlike other stalkers, this man only followed me, and every time I entered or left a place he would talk to someone on the phone before following my vehicle. It made me think about his identity, and a
DeanGrace 24, Dean 32The melancholy music hummed through the entire auditorium. Though it was a lamentable piece, the song was about two lovers. Two passionate fellows who lost themselves in each other so deeply that when they found one another, one of them was dead.The moment Grace strummed the first string of her instrument, the song captivated the audience. Others probably were too in-depth in the music, but I was sitting in the first row for another reason.More than the melody, it was the magnificence of the artist that kept me glued to this uncomfortable seat. Her beauty radiated under her white spotlight as she swung right into the music she was playing. Her full-sleeved burgundy gown with her hair in a neat updo, coupled with minimal makeup, brought out a freshness in this room. It was impossible to focus on the music when she was sitting there. Any man with a functioning dick would feel a little thing in the lower part of the body. Just the way I was feeling.Grace's eye
GraceGrace 24, Dean 32Tonight, I had two choices.Obey my father—or watch Daphne die in that locked attic.Even a little measure of using the power room would be used against me. The gun pointing at the head would, at any time, fire a bullet and end the life.I would have merrily taken the bullet, but the problem was that the gun was pointing at Daphne, who was locked in the attic. Still unconscious, not because of the drug she took last night, but more because the drug was pushed into her system by our father.This was how Mayor Hale fulfilled most of his wicked wishes. He was aware of my weakness and never hesitated to take advantage of that. He probably understood my vulnerability as a liberty he could hold whenever, wherever, however he wished. Little did he know, I was losing my patience. While yes, Daphne was my responsibility. Yes, I vowed to protect her from all the cruelty of this world. And yes, I took my promises as seriously as our father took the upcoming election.Ye
DeanGrace 24, Dean 32Honestly, I loathed violence. Brutality was in my DNA, whether I liked it or not. The day I was born into the Moretti family, my fate was sealed in this area. I held a gun for the first time at the young age of seven, the day Dad and I went on a hunt in the woods. My mother was reluctant to send me on this voyage with my father. I remembered how much she roared that particular bright morning. She even pointed a gun at my father, but when she lost the overly protective mother game, she tried to negotiate with Dad.She told Dad he wouldn't bring violence near me, and in return she would go to our grandparents' house for dinner. Mom disdained Moretti's family house and people in it. That morning she swallowed the bitter pill for her son's betterment.Mom did keep her part of the deal, but Dad, he broke it the moment we set foot in the woods. He pulled out a Smith and Wesson model 686 and thrust it in my hands with zero hesitation.Whatever you were thinking, let
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