Stacy Moretti Novels & Stories

Nancy furrowed her brow and stepped in front of Miley: "Mr. Rhodes, from what I know, the Rhodes is already at the end of its rope. Do you really want to make another enemy out of the Dawson family?" No matter how fearless Nancy was, it was still just the two of them—two women—facing him, and they were at a disadvantage. Kael’s gaze shifted to Nancy, unfamiliar with who she was. Danna quickly explained, “Kael, this is Miss Moretti. She used to work in the film industry overseas.” Understanding dawned on Kael. He wouldn’t dare lay a finger on Miley, but now even a minor celebrity from abroad thought she could talk back to him?

He threw himself into the desk chair and tapped a key. "Connect," he snapped. A chime echoed in the silent room. A video feed flickered to life on the center screen. I peeked through the gap between the chair and the mahogany bookshelf. The face on the screen was young, sharp, and strikingly beautiful, but not in the soft way Evelyn was. This was Isabella Moretti, the eldest daughter of the Moretti Group, the Sterlings' fiercest rivals in the Mediterranean shipping merger. "Alaric," Isabella said, her voice dripping with bored condescension. "You’re late. And you look like you’ve been drinking the profits."

Stacy was just annoying to the people in the house. Stacy insisted that we do not reveal to the women that Luis Moon was Regan Adhit for security purposes because some of them were from Dome and knew the man. "This will be the last stop for the day," Stacy said, knocking on a door in a small neighbourhood downtown. A middle-aged woman opened the door and squealed excitedly when she saw Stacy. "Olivia!" Stacy squealed back, and they hugged and kissed each other's cheeks. The woman noticed me and greeted me with respect.

He took it all in one swallow, hoping it would burn away the tight coil of dread forming in his gut. He glanced toward the hallway where he could hear Serena humming faintly as she folded laundry. She was happy. Light. Glowing. And that innocence, that sense of peace she had only recently started to wear like a second skin, would be shattered if she ever learned the truth from someone like Stacy. And Stacy was dangerous. Especially when she had leverage. ***** Stacy stood in front of her full-length mirror, a devious smile curling on her glossy lips as she slipped into her red silk dress. It clung to her figure like a second skin, seductive and commanding all at once.

I start pacing, mind racing ahead, connecting pieces. The Morettis hide behind security. Their mansion is practically a fortress — cameras, guards, layered protection. Untouchable. Unless… A memory surfaces — a celebrity reel I’d seen weeks ago while scanning media coverage. Fashion week. Flashing cameras. Stefano Moretti’s wife smiling beside designers. Traveling constantly. Minimal protection outside home territory. I stop walking. And smile. “We don’t hit the fortress,” I murmur. “We hit what leaves it.” Ronan’s expression darkens immediately. “You’re thinking ransom, weapons, territory in exchange?”

Stacy muttered to herself, as she made her way to the kitchen, with her eyes glued to her phone, scrolling through more news to read more. “He is truly impressive. Increased stocks and multiplied assets even over the months without a physical presence? This man is so amazing,” Stacy said to herself again, as a modest smile danced on her lips, her eyes glistening with fondness for Carlton as she scrolled through his pictures on the internet, while downloading most of them. “Such a fine man,” she mouthed again and again, as she checked for more pictures. In less than ten minutes, while still trying to fix something delicious, Stacy felt someone's strong arms wrap around her waist from behind,

Between the stillness of her apartment, the quick effects of the tablet and the minute sliver of sunlight peeking through the draw curtains, it wasn’t long before she fell into a deep sleep. -------------------------- Heels clicked against cold, concrete floors, warning the conference room’s occupants of her arrival. In the chair closest to the door, a shaggy-haired man sat, nervously twiddling his thumbs. Work would need to begin right away. It always did. Jon Moretti’s dating life often caused a company-wide lockdown, with every minute occupied with preparing and watching, planning and scheming. While it exhausted her employees, her commitment was always unwavering. One day, she was certai

~~SERAPHINA~~ Six Months Later I wait until Massimo has left the house completely, the car out of the driveway, leaving me alone with Luca for the day, before I turn to face Dr. Moretti and wiggle my eyebrows at her. "So?" She smiles at me, and I can't stop myself from chuckling a little at the mischief in her eyes. Over the past six months, Dr. Moretti and I have grown close. She has shared stories about when Massimo was a kid, how she helped raise almost every child in this family, and her childhood in Sicily, including how she came to work for the mafia. Anything and everything, and I eat up each and every one of her stories. She's one of the most incredible women I've ever met, and I'm g

Eleanor Moretti is a soft, old-school, sentimental Italian grandmother. She was wrong. Eleanor isn’t a sweet Italian grandmother. At thirty-six she watched her husband take seven bullets at the door of a restaurant in Little Italy. Then, alone, she pulled the Moretti Family up from the weakest of the five families to the most rock-solid on the East Coast. She’s worn Valentino. She’s worn Armani with blood on it. She’s worn the Donna ring, and she’s pulled a trigger. She is Eleanor Moretti. Vivian’s fingers dug into the armrest, her knuckles white.

For the rest of the reception,I sat at the head table under looks of pity,curiosity,and careful silence.Not one Moretti elder spoke.We did not fight in front of outsiders.But I knew that by morning,Adrian Vale would be crossed off several important lists. Not because he lacked money,but because he had made a Moretti daughter look like a joke.