𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼
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.𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀 Lately, it feels like I’m walking through fog. Nothing stays clear long enough to make sense. Mama’s condition is getting worse; she’s reached the final stages of her illness, and any moment from now, she’ll be gone. I know this. I’ve been preparing for this. But seeing her already start planning her own funeral, saying things like, “I want lilies, not roses,” is driving me insane. I can’t stand hearing her talk about her death, so I’ve been avoiding her more than I should. It makes me feel like a coward. Because I am one. Luciana said the doctors want to run more tests, but everyone knows what that means. They’re preparing us. I don’t need to be a doctor to see what’s coming. And in the middle of all that, there’s Alera. I’ve spent years mastering the art of control, just like Papa taught me. I’ve kept everything about my life neat and compartmentalized, and for so long, it worked well for me. Until she showed up and wrecked all of it. Now, every time I wal
𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here. The tears have stopped, but my chest still hurts. I wipe my face with the sleeve of my shirt, take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The air feels thick, heavy with dread of the unknown. Maybe this is how it’s supposed to end. We were never meant to work out. We’re too different. He’s too closed off, too controlled. I talk and feel too much. We didn't even get together for the right reasons. And most importantly, my Dad hates him. Reasonably, that would have been more than enough reason to end this madness. But still… a small part of me wishes he’d at least tried. That he’d given us a chance instead of shutting me out like everything we've experienced together meant nothing. If I’d just kept my mouth shut, if I hadn’t thrown those words at him so carelessly, maybe we wouldn’t be here. But he’s right, this is for the best. He’s never given any hint that he thought we could be more than what we are. I grab my phone fr
𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼 Yesterday, I wanted to apologize to Dante for the way I spoke to him. There’s no excuse that justifies throwing those words at him, especially since we've been so good lately. But he wasn’t home when I woke up. And when I came back from work, he still wasn't home. I stayed awake waiting for him. When I finally heard his footsteps downstairs, I waited for him to come to my room like he normally does. He didn’t. That was all the confirmation I needed, that he's really angry with me. I thought about going to his room, thought about knocking and apologizing, but I couldn’t move. I was too scared he’d ignore me. So I just gave in to sleep. Hoping that tomorrow would be better. Well, it's finally tomorrow and right now, still in my robe and not ready for work, I’m standing outside his office, rehearsing the words I’ve been trying to form since last night. I breathe out slowly, twist the knob and push the door open. He’s behind his desk, typing. He doesn’t look up imme
𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀 Soulless bastard. The word repeats in my head with every step I take down the stairs. On the outside, I look composed, expression steady and pace measured. But with each lift and drop of my feet, the heavier I feel. Maybe this is the reminder I’ve been avoiding. That none of the effort, restraint and quiet ways I’ve tried, changes anything. She still sees me the same way she did back then. And that makes everything I've built, even the silent hope I've ignored, crumble deep within me. I’ve been called worse. I’ve had men spit at me in courtrooms, beg me for mercy, curse me. None of it touched me. But when she said it, it landed different. It didn't feel like a mere insult. She said it like it was a truth she believes. Downstairs, in the wine cellar, I pull out a bottle of whiskey from the glass case, take out a glass and pour the drink in it. Then, I lift it to my lips, and I'm about to down the entire glass, but stop halfway. I stare at the drink for a moment, then
𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘼“Safe? Safe from who?""Rowan?”Dante doesn’t answer. He just stares at me like he’s weighing what to say and what to keep hidden.I study his face. He looks so serious for this to just be about some old rivalry, I can definitely tell there's something more to this. But how? Rowan isn't scary. “You made it sound like he’s dangerous.”He doesn’t respond and that silence does more than words.Sure, the reason Rowan slept with Nichole is more calculated and cruel than I thought, and yeah, he lied by saying it was because he loved her. That alone makes me look at him differently. But that doesn’t automatically mean he’s a threat.Maybe he's jealous.He kissed me right in front of his brother to make a statement I'm sure. And the thought that this might be jealousy makes my delusional heart warm with excitement. I haven't been hopeful about anything, not after reminding myself constantly that this marriage isn't real, but the way he looked at me out there it makes me think maybe
𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀 Something ugly twists in my heart with every step I take toward them. I don’t know what it is, could be worry, mixed with this deep ugly feeling of intense jealousy, I have no idea which it is, but it burns. I keep seeing it in my head, her laughing with him like they’ve known each other longer than three weeks. Like they've formed a bond that excludes me. Just minutes ago, I was preparing to tear down the entire building if she didn’t answer her phone. Meanwhile, shes been fine with him all along. Her face looks like it mirrors my expression if worry is the dominant emotion. She begins to move towards me as well and I meet her half way. The moment she’s in front of me, she opens her mouth to say something, but I don’t let her. Both my hands cradle her face as I tilt it up, then I kiss her. So deeply as though if I pulled away, she would disappear. She inhales sharply against my mouth, startled, but she doesn’t pull away. I do, after a few seconds, staring right int