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Keeper, Not Lover

Keeper, Not Lover

Short Story · Mafia
By:  CocojamCompleted
Language: English
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21Chapters
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Synopsis

Pregnancy

Winning Back the Wife

Tragic Love

Inspirational

Mafia

Awakening

I was a violin prodigy. But to pay my mother’s debts, I was forced to give up everything. That’s when I met the man who would own me: Dante Moretti. He was the king of New York's underworld. The Don of the Moretti family. With a single phone call, fortunes were made. With a single glance, blood was spilled. The world didn't just bend to his will—it broke. And on that day… what he wanted was me. He gave me a five-year contract. A penthouse in a skyscraper overlooking all of New York. More jewels and gowns than I could count. Every night he needed me, I’d put on whatever lacy thing he picked out. We’d have sex. Five years. 999 times. There were moments—his sweat dripping on my forehead, his soft breaths inside me, the way he’d look at me—when I let myself dream he loved me. Then the video dropped. Him. On the street. Kissing another woman. I knew the truth. He was my keeper, not my lover. Everyone laughed. They couldn't wait to see me lose my mind, begging him to keep me. Instead, I turned my back on him. And married another man.

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21 Chapters
Chapter 1
I was a violin prodigy. But to pay my mother’s debts, I was forced to give up everything.That’s when I met the man who would own me: Dante Moretti.He was the king of New York's underworld. The Don of the Moretti family.With a single phone call, fortunes were made. With a single glance, blood was spilled.The world didn't just bend to his will—it broke.And on that day… what he wanted was me.He gave me a five-year contract. A penthouse in a skyscraper overlooking all of New York. More jewels and gowns than I could count.Every night he needed me, I’d put on whatever lacy thing he picked out. We’d have sex.Five years. 999 times.There were moments—his sweat dripping on my forehead, his soft breaths inside me, the way he’d look at me—when I let myself dream he loved me.Then the video dropped. Him. On the street. Kissing another woman.I knew the truth. He was my keeper, not my lover.Everyone laughed. They couldn't wait to see me lose my mind, begging him to keep me.Instead, I turn
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Chapter 2
I stared at the headline, my finger hovering over the screen. The comments were even worse than the picture.In the comments, the same socialites who’d once envied my "Cinderella story" were finally showing their fangs."The real queen is back, so the little canary's dream is over. I bet her next patron is that sadist senator. What do you all think?""I'm starting a pool. How many hands will she pass through before she's kicked out of New York for good? Without the Moretti name protecting her, a woman like that isn't even fit to shine our shoes.""Five years is a long shelf life. She's expired."Their venom splattered against me like mud, but I kept scrolling, my face blank.Still, a heavy weight settled in my chest, a boulder making it hard to breathe.My heart seized in sharp, painful spasms. My nose burned. A hot pressure built behind my eyes.The five-year fantasy was over. Utterly shattered. I counted the days in my head.Six days left.Even without this woman, I was never going
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Chapter 3
I left with a single, small suitcase.An early winter storm had hit New York, blanketing the city in snow.The steps outside the building were slick with ice.I hadn't gone more than a few feet before my feet slipped out from under me. I crashed hard onto the pavement.The suitcase burst open, my sheet music scattering everywhere.But I couldn’t focus on that. A sudden, violent cramp ripped through my lower stomach. The pain was so sharp it buckled me over, my vision tunneling to black. My hand flew to my belly on pure instinct. A primal terror I’d never known seized me. And that tearing pain… it threw me back to another winter. Five years ago. A snowstorm just like this one.My mother, right in front of me, jumping from the seventh-floor rooftop.The dull thud as her body hit the ground.The red blood spreading quickly, staining the dirty snow. Just like this."Mom..." I knelt in the snow, staring at the blood.When Rocco saved me in that filthy alley, when he gave me a home in t
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Chapter 4
I thought Rocco called me back for the usual reason. To be cleaned up, thrown on a bed, and used like an animal to satisfy him.But he didn't.He didn't even stay the night.He sat on that uncomfortable velvet sofa, silently ate a steak I wasn't very good at cooking, and then looked at his watch."I have to go."He stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and became the cold-blooded Don again."I'll be busy for a while. Don't wait up."Then, without a backward glance, he was gone.Ten minutes later, his second-in-command knocked on the door."Miss Vance."He respectfully handed me a velvet case and a black Amex card."From the Boss."Inside the case was an antique violin. A Guarneri del Gesù, 1742. If I wasn't mistaken, it was the one that sold for a fortune at Christie's two years ago.And the black card had no limit."Compensation," the man said simply.I stared at the violin, an instrument that could buy an entire orchestra, and felt nothing but a vast emptiness.Rocco Moretti never apol
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Chapter 5
My body went completely still.In the dark, Rocco couldn't see my face.He couldn't see the tears soaking his collar.And he would never know that in that moment, my heart died.But I didn't push him away.This was the last time. A final moment of warmth, even if it was stolen, even if it was meant for someone else.I held him back with all my strength, burying my face in his neck so he wouldn't feel me shaking.Just this once.Let me pretend I'm the one he loves.The elevator doors opened to the underground garage.Rocco didn't let go. He scooped me up into his arms and carried me toward the black Rolls-Royce.The driver discreetly raised the privacy screen.Rocco tossed me onto the wide leather seat and followed, his heavy body pressing down on me.He bit at my collarbone, his hands roaming my waist."Don't move," he growled, the command thick in his throat.He fumbled in his suit pocket and pulled out a small, exquisite box. Inside was a massive pink diamond ring.It was the matchin
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Chapter 6
Just as I was about to turn off my phone, a call came in from Luca, Rocco’s right-hand man."Miss Vance, the Boss will be at the apartment shortly. Please… prepare yourself."Prepare myself.The words were a bitter joke.Was he not satisfied after his heroic rescue?Or was his frightened little rabbit, Vivienne, now unwilling to fulfill his needs?I looked at my packed suitcase and laughed at myself.Fine.Let this be it.A proper ending.I shoved the suitcase deep into the back of the closet, hiding it behind a row of couture gowns I had no intention of taking.Then, I changed into the black lace nightgown he had just sent me. The one that screamed what he wanted.Half an hour later, Rocco arrived.To my surprise, he wasn't angry or demanding.He was carrying several takeout boxes from Le Bernardin.Lobster and black truffle risotto.My favorite."I remember you didn't eat much today."He threw his coat, still cold and smelling of gunpowder, onto the sofa. He ordered his men to set th
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Chapter 7
Rocco's POVIt was late. The docks were quiet. The last body hit the water an hour ago.I was tired, but in a damn good mood.The Rosettis were crushed. Vivienne was safe. For now.Now, I wanted to see Clara.That sweet little thing from last night. So fucking obedient it made something in me ache."The apartment," I told the driver.I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. The manila envelope was in my hand.A new contract. Better terms than before.Fifty million a year. I'd even send her to that fancy school she'd been dreaming of.Five years. My little canary sang her heart out. I’d keep her for another five. A lifetime, even.The car pulled up to the building.I pushed the door open. Pitch black.“Clara?”Nothing.Asleep?I flipped the switch. The living room was empty.That priceless antique cello stood in the corner. Case shut.On the table: the black card. And the pink diamond ring I hadn't had the chance to give her yet.A cold dread tightened its fist in my gut.I stormed into th
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Chapter 8
Clara's POVA week later. Boston.I clutched a stack of sheet music, walking through the old brick corridors of MIT.The air didn’t smell of gunpowder or blood. Just crisp, cold wind and coffee.The smell of freedom.I was supposed to get on a plane to Austria that day.But a last-minute call from my mentor changed everything.“Clara, the Boston Symphony is looking for a cellist. And an old friend of mine at MIT needs a TA for his music elective. The pay isn't great, but you can work and continue your studies. And most importantly… it's harder for those people to find you there than in Europe.”So I tore up my ticket to Vienna. I grabbed my cello—my real baby—and boarded a Greyhound to Boston.“Clara, over here!”The head of the music department, a kind, white-haired woman, waved at me from down the hall.“I want you to meet someone. This is the pride of our school, the youngest tenured professor in the mathematics department. He’s the one who wants to co-host an interdisciplinary lect
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Chapter 9
Rocco's POV“Boss, there’s one more lead.”Luca, still on his knees, cautiously handed me a file.“The last person Miss Vance saw in New York before she disappeared was that designer, Chloe.”Chloe?I remembered a woman in a flashy sequin dress.I’d seen her at the entrance to Vivienne’s art show.Clara’s best friend. The only one who might know where she went.Half an hour later, my men “escorted” Chloe to my office.More like dragged her.She sat on the black leather sofa, her hands tied behind her back. But there was no fear on her face.Just anger and disgust.“Rocco Moretti.”She spat my name. “This is kidnapping! Let me go, or I swear to God, the whole world will know you're just a coward who gets off on hurting women!”“Where is she.”I wasn’t in the mood for her bullshit. I walked over and looked down at her.“Where is Clara?”“I don’t know.”Chloe sneered, tilting her chin up. “And even if I did, I’d never tell you. So you can drag her back to be your pet again?”“Don’t make m
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Chapter 10
Rocco's POVI felt like my soul had been ripped out. I drove back to the empty apartment.I pushed open the door and my eyes fell on the sofa. The one that used to be Clara’s.I remembered, two years ago, she loved curling up in that corner to read. The sun would hit her just right. She looked like a painting.But then…I frowned, looking at the cold, black leather sofa that stood there now.When did I change it?Right. When Vivienne came back.The first time she came here, she’d wrinkled her nose. “This decor is so tacky. These warm colors don’t suit you at all, Rocco. And this sofa… does it smell like cheap perfume?”I was busy with a family feud. To keep Vivienne happy, I’d said, “Then change it. Do whatever you like.”The next day, the renovation crew was here.All the warm colors were replaced with this cold, minimalist style.Clara’s favorite beige curtains became heavy, dark gray drapes. The plants she kept on the balcony were all thrown out.Even her bookshelf, filled with musi
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