Romans & histoires Miles Moretti

“Unless you have something real to offer, I’ll be on my way.” I gave him the benefit of a moment, a heartbeat, to offer me something else, something I wouldn’t immediately refuse. But I knew he wouldn't. Moretti had made his fortune in drug trade; it was unlikely he’d reconsider. “Good-bye, Moretti.” I rose from my low sofa. “I consider our previous altercations to be ended. But should you pursue anyone under the protection of my family—including medical personnel—my retribution will know no limits.” He stared up at me, that muscle feathering his hard jawline again.

With their guns drawn, my team circled the man on the ground. “Who is it?” I was unable to get a good view of the person's face. “It’s Moretti.” Arrow confirmed. Fuck! Lorenzo Moretti was the key to getting to Ricci. “The place was attacked before we got here.” Badger added. “It looks like they didn’t want any loose ends.” Buddha concluded. “No signs of life.” I cursed and ran my hands through my long brown hair. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my racing heart. I’ve been a phantom since as long as I can remember. Always listening, but not being seen. I was a pro at staying quiet and unseen. I've always had a passion for computer programming and hacking. My mothers last words always in the

“I’m fine.” A lie. A big one. Her throat tightened with it. “Good.” He clasped his hands. “Because this is serious. The cops intercepted some chatter. They believe it was a territorial attack involving one of the major mafia families.” Her heartbeat picked up. She didn’t blink. He lowered his voice. “And they believe Dante Moretti was involved.” Her chest tightened. She swallowed. “Why do you think it’s him” “You know why,” Mr. Royce replied. “He has been on everyone’s radar for years. Sooner or later, he was going to slip. It seems last night might have been the moment.”

“She don’t talk much, but she’s easy on the eyes. Right, Liv?” She didn’t answer. Her fingers tightened in her lap. “Raise,” a new voice said, low and steady. Livia glanced up, just for a second. The man across the table hadn’t spoken much all night. Alessandro Moretti. Even in this dim, smoky room, he stood out—dark suit sharp, eyes sharper. Everyone knew his name. Crime lord. Kingmaker. The kind of man who didn’t need to brag. Dante snorted. “Feeling bold, Moretti? Alright, I’ll bite. Five grand.”

Rhea's Pov "Mr. Morrieti," I said, my voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through me. I dipped my head in a respectful greeting, acknowledging the man who had been a ghost in his own life for far too long. Up close, Marcello Morrieti was striking, a man whose features were carved from the same hard, uncompromising stone as his reputation. Even after years of supposed decline, he possessed a magnetic, dangerous handsomeness that made it easy to see why a woman like Hillary would have been drawn to him.

34 years old Luca Moretti, is the Santoro crime family’s most feared enforcer, he was tall, heavily muscled, covered in tattoos, with cold dark eyes and a reputation for making problems disappear quietly. He’s violent, dominant, and loyal only to the family. When a high-stakes witness threatens to bring down their empire, Luca is assigned to babysit the witness in a remote safehouse until the trial.

Marco's POV I was in my study, nursing a glass of whiskey that tasted like ash and lemons, when the phone rang. The call came at 2:17 a.m., exactly the hour when most men were either drunk or dead. I let it ring twice before answering, already knowing the voice on the other end would bring trouble. "Boss," my informant said, voice low and hurried. "Don Moretti is dead. Found in his hotel suite thirty minutes ago. Shot once in the leg, once through the hand, and once in the head. Execution style. Police are calling it a professional hit."

I wasn’t expecting what came out of that phone. A male voice came on with a slight Italian accent. “Childless? You think the Morettis are childless? Did you lose every brain cell you ever had over there?” “Adrian Moretti has a son. Eighteen years old. Hidden in a town called Bagheria outside Palermo, Sicily. Learning the old Cosa Nostra ways under one of the local Capos, finishing his undergrad in International Business at the University of Palermo. He runs the Moretti Family’s entire European operation: illegal real-estate laundering on one side, legitimate vineyards on the other. He’s the real heir to the Moretti Family.”

Running would mean admitting defeat and I did not think Mia was capable of that. Which meant she was still here. Still planning something. I drove to Four's estate to deliver the news in person. Manuel let me in and led me to the study where Four was reviewing business reports. He looked better than the last time I saw him. Stronger. Healthier now that Rachel's poison was out of his system. "Detective Rivera. I assume this is about the raids." Four set down his papers. "I saw the news reports. Marco Moretti arrested." "Along with fifteen of his top associates. We seized enough evidence to put them away for decades. The Moretti organisation is finished."

Hair perfect. I look like the ideal mafia wife. Polished and empty. The doorbell rings at exactly nine, and my heart launches into my throat. I open the door. Ocean Moretti is standing on my doorstep. Tall, over six feet, with broad shoulders filling out his dark suit. Salt-and-pepper hair. Sharp features. But it's his eyes that make my breath catch. Gray. Storm gray. Looking directly at me with an intensity that sees everything. He's forty-nine years old. Twenty-six years older than me.