Dominick Cruz Book Novels & Stories

The book started as a letter. Dominic had been asked to speak at a foster care advocacy event eighteen months earlier, and in preparing for that speech he had written down things he had never written down before. Not for an audience. Not for publication. Just to organize his thoughts before standing in front of a room full of people and talking about a childhood he had spent decades moving away from.

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He looked untouched by the night before, effortlessly commanding attention as he placed a book on his desk. His gaze flicked to her. And in that split second, she knew. He wasn’t going to pretend. He wasn’t going to let her pretend, either. His lips curved—a silent challenge. “Open your books,” Dominic said, his voice smooth as sin. “Today, we’re discussing the art of deception.” The words sent a shiver down her spine. Because she had a feeling— This was personal. And she was about to learn that Dominic Valenti didn’t just play games.

Father Dominic’s eyes burned with unholy lust. He lifted me onto the main altar like a sacrifice and laid me on my back. The cold marble made me gasp. He took the large golden crucifix from its place of honor and pressed the smooth metal shaft against my dripping cunt. “Rub your filthy nun cunt on the cross, Sister,” he ordered. Shame burned through me as I obeyed, grinding my swollen clit against the holy object while he watched. He then pushed the thick end of the crucifix inside me, fucking me slowly with it.

I said quickly, “Cruz knows me, Yes. But that’s the key. I can use that. I’ll try to convince him I’m not the enemy anymore, that I’m on his side now. If I win his trust, maybe I can control what happens.” The room erupted. “You’re insane!” Dominic’s voice was sharp, cutting through all the murmurs. “Do you know who you’re talking about? Cruz isn’t someone you manipulate. He’s a monster.” “He’s dangerous,” Ada added, her fists clenched. “You think you can play tricks on him and come out alive?” But I shook my head, refusing to back down. “I have to try. If I do nothing, the case will go forward anyway. Someone else will defend him, and then what? At least if I’m there, I can find a way to st

The book arrives on a Tuesday. Dominic isn't home when it comes. I'm at the foundation and the package is left on the doorstep. When I come home, I see it sitting there and I know immediately what it is. I pick it up carefully like it might break. The book is bound in a simple navy cover. The title is clear: Accountability and Transformation: Building Systems That Work. The author name is Dominic Marcello. My husband's name on the cover of a book.

"Ofcourse ma'am..." She replied. "We also have hardcovers in this book... You want to see?" She said looking at the book Grace has selected. Grace pouted. "Hardcovers are too expensive... Beautiful but expensive" "Give her Hardcovers..." Dominick ordered. "And whatever you will order for her, order it in hardcovers only." Grace looked at him with wide eyes. "Dom, Hardcovers?... It's really expensive... And i buy books like anything. I don't think it's necessary."

“Really? What’s that?” “I’m going to see what The Compendium has to say about possession, demonic or otherwise.” Dominic paused for a moment. “And to see what I can find about breaking one.” Hope flared in Leesa’s breast. “Do you really think there might be something like that in your book?” Dominic shrugged. “Who knows? It’s not something I ever had any real interest in, or any need for either, so I never looked. But I’m going to look now.”

"Matteo Lasombra was violent and cruel and built an empire on suffering. He abused his children. Destroyed lives. Died in prison with blood on his hands." "And you are his son who escaped that life." "Not escaped. Chose to leave. After years of participating in his world. I am not innocent, Dominic. I did terrible things before I decided to change." "I read your book," Dominic said quietly. "After I got your letter, I bought it and read it in one sitting. That is how I knew your letter was real and not some scam. You wrote about our father with the kind of detail only someone who lived through it would know."

But Dominic was there. Leaning against the headboard like he owned not just the bed but the very air around it. Shirtless, all lean muscle and dangerous shadows, his legs crossed beneath the duvet like he was settling in for the long haul. He was reading a book—some thick tome about international finance—like this was the most natural thing in the world. I stopped dead in my tracks. "What the hell are you doing?" He didn't look up from his book, but I caught the slight curve of his lips. "Reading."