Melissa Moretti Novels & Stories

I walked to the driver and smiled. “Caren Inc please” I slipped into the car and he drove off. Caren Inc was a large office building, it wasn’t so popular but I already felt a homy feeling around it. I stepped out of the car and walked into the building. I headed straight for the receptionist, a tall blonde woman with huge spectacles. Her tag said Mrs. Helen Mayer. “hey, I’m Camila Santiago and I applied for a job here” she glanced through some files and smiles.

I'm sure I look mortified as I stand up, "Hi, my names Bec and I'm from Livingston" I look around the room as I speak. It's hard not to notice all the kids giving each other pointed looks. "Well hello Bec it's so nice to meet you darlin, you can take your seat again," her thick Texas accent is almost too overwhelming for me. Luckily, she launches straight into the class without any further questions. I pretend to follow along while subconsciously doing little drawings around my book, trying my hardest not to think about the boy with raven hair.

IMPORTANT PHONE NUMBERS, it says. Goosebumps rise on my hands. It’s so laughable it’s almost like he planted this here for me. What was he doing with celebrity numbers this early in the morning, and is it possible that Moretti’s number is in here? I flip through the book carefully, reading through the “M” section, fully convinced I wouldn’t see his name. But sure enough, there he is, Nicco Moretti, right under Darnell Moresa, the famous dancer who now owns a string of popular restaurants.

He trusted my instincts the way I trusted his and that trust was one of the most valuable things in my life. "Noah wants pasta tonight," I said. A beat. Then a sound that was almost a laugh. "I will bring the good sauce." "Please," I said. I ended the call. Opened my laptop. Returned to work. Somewhere across the city Vanessa Moretti was watching the coverage of her own interview and waiting for it to do what she had designed it to do. She was going to be waiting for a while. Because the woman she had designed it to damage had outgrown the version of herself that could be damaged by it. She was still fighting someone who no longer existed. Still throwing things at a door that had been closed

“The Morettis, Mr. Jameson?” “Yes, Amelia. Mr. Alessandro Ethan Moretti and his brother, Giovanni Aidan Moretti.” Suddenly, Millie’s mind spun. “Holy shit,” she muttered, barely aware she’d said it out loud.

Beatrice’s eyebrows shot up dramatically “You haven’t seen T*****r? Girllll! The entire Italian internet is having a field day, it's all over” “What is?” Rosalie asked slowly Beatrice slid her phone across the counter “This” Rosalie picked it up, her heart dropped A tweet was open, the caption bold; "CEO of Billion dollar Moretti Enterprises verbally assaults young female staff member in office meltdown. Says she doesn't belong with the upper class, Elitism or breakdown? #MorettiMeltdown" Beneath it, a blurry video began to play She saw herself, her own face. Standing. Shaking.

Questions swirled in her mind. Slowly, compelled by curiosity, Melissa retraced her steps toward the bed. She approached silently, mindful not to disturb the sleeper. As she drew closer, she caught a glimpse of a flawlessly chiseled profile—a face defined by dark features, thick eyelashes, and raven-black hair. "Jeremy Nobody...?" Melissa whispered, her voice betraying both surprise and disbelief. How on earth did she end up in his house?

She believes in her spirit that nothing can harm her as long as she is strong within herself. "I will not let anyone ruin this day for me!" Promising herself one last time, she started her car. ***** It’s a big event for the fashion world. The very famous fashion designer, Melissa Millar, known as the queen MM, is having her fancy designs exhibited by the top models of America. Melissa Millar is a twenty seven years old beautiful woman also known as the heartbreaker of the state. This famous fashion designer can top the look of the best model of the New York fashion industry.

Vivienne loomed on the screen, and she was there, graceful and dignified and entirely believable. “I’m offering ten million dollars to anyone who can help find Caelum Morano and his crony Celine Moretti.” Ten million dollars. Enough to turn anyone against us. "Miss Moretti is a threat and an embarrassment. My son may have manipulated her, she might even find herself there under duress. "Anyone who has seen them, or may have information about their whereabouts, is urged to contact police.”