Page 19 of Claimed by the Enemy (Moretti Bratva #2)

Chapter Seventeen

Sophie

G uilt tastes like copper pennies and lies.

I’ve been awake since five this morning, staring at the ceiling and listening to Dom breathe beside me. He sleeps restlessly, his arm thrown across my waist like even in sleep he’s afraid I might disappear again.

I should tell him the truth. Should have told him the truth the moment I walked through that door last night. But every time I open my mouth, Uncle Enzo’s voice echoes in my head, reminding me what’s at stake.

What I’ve promised to do.

Dom stirs, his fingers tightening against my hip. “You’re awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He turns to face me, and even in the dim morning light, I can see the questions in his eyes. “Bad dreams?”

“Something like that.”

“Sophie.” His voice is gentle but persistent. “We need to talk about yesterday.”

“I know.”

“Then talk to me.”

I want to. God, I want to tell him everything about Uncle Enzo and his disappointment. About the choice I’ve been forced to make. About the way my heart breaks a little more every time Dom looks at me like I’m something precious.

Instead, I kiss his forehead and slip out of bed. “I need coffee first.”

Dom doesn’t follow me downstairs, but I can feel his eyes on me as I leave the room. He knows I’m hiding something since the moment I walked through that door.

The question is how long I can keep lying before he stops trusting me altogether.

Patrice is already in the kitchen when I arrive, humming softly as she prepares breakfast. She looks up with her usual warm smile, but there’s concern in her eyes.

“Good morning, Mrs. Moretti. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” The lie comes automatically now. “Just tired.”

“Perhaps you should take it easy today. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

An ordeal. If only she knew.

I accept the coffee she offers, wrapping my hands around the warm mug like it might anchor me to something solid. But even the caffeine can’t quiet the voice in my head.

You have one week, Sophie. One week to prove your loyalty, or I’ll finish this myself.

Uncle Enzo’s words from yesterday morning play on repeat, each syllable a weight pressing down on my chest. He’d looked so disappointed when his people brought me to that warehouse. So hurt by what he saw as my betrayal.

I raised you better than this, he’d said, pacing the length of the empty space like a caged animal. Trained you to be strong, to remember what’s important. And you throw it all away for what? Pretty words from a pretty man?

It’s not like that, I’d protested, but even as I said it, I knew it was a lie.

It was exactly like that.

Then prove it, he’d challenged. Prove that you remember who you are. Who we are. What the Morettis took from us.

And I had. Standing in that warehouse, looking at the man who’d been my whole world for sixteen years, I’d promised him whatever he needed to hear.

Even though it was killing me.

“Mrs. Sophie?” Patrice’s voice cuts through the memory. “Are you alright? You look pale.”

I force a smile. “Just thinking.”

“About yesterday?”

“About a lot of things.”

Patrice studies my face with the kind of maternal concern that makes my chest ache. “If you need someone to talk to…”

“Thank you. Really. But I’m fine.”

Another lie. I’m so far from fine, I can’t even see it from here.

My stomach churns, and I have to set down my coffee cup before the nausea overwhelms me. It’s been happening more frequently over the past few days - waves of sickness that hit without warning and leave me shaky and disoriented.

Stress, probably. The kind of stress that comes from living a double life, from loving someone you’re supposed to destroy.

“I think I’ll go for a walk,” I tell Patrice. “Get some fresh air.”

“Would you like Vincent to accompany you?”

“No. I just need to think.”

I don’t go for a walk. Instead, I find myself in Dom’s study, surrounded by the same documents that started this whole mess. Business contracts and partnership agreements, evidence of a friendship between our fathers that someone worked very hard to hide.

Uncle Enzo’s words echo in my memory: The evidence was falsified, Sophie. All of it. Someone wanted you to find those documents, wanted you to doubt everything you’ve been taught.

But who? And why?

I’m still staring at the papers when Dom appears in the doorway. He’s dressed for work but hasn’t left yet, probably because he’s worried about leaving me alone.

“Find anything interesting?” he asks.

“Just trying to make sense of everything.”

“Any luck?”

“Not really.”

Dom moves into the room, settling into the chair across from his desk. “Sophie, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me.”

My heart starts racing. “Okay.”

“Yesterday, when you were with your uncle… what did he tell you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what did he say about our fathers? About what really happened sixteen years ago?”

I look at this man who’s been nothing but protective of me, who married me to keep me safe, who’s been patient with my lies and secrets even when they must be driving him crazy.

And I lie to him again.

“He said he didn’t know anything new. That he’s been looking for answers just like we have.”

Dom’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Sophie.” He leans forward, his voice gentle but firm. “I love you.”

The words hit like a physical blow. “Dom-”

“I love you, and I know you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes, you are. You’ve been lying to me since you walked through that door last night. Maybe longer.” He stands up, moving around the desk to stand in front of me. “And I need to know why.”

I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t figure out how to tell him that I love him too, but that love might not be enough to save either of us.

“It’s complicated,” I whisper.

“Uncomplicate it.”

“I can’t.”

“Sophie.” Dom’s hands frame my face, forcing me to look at him. “Whatever your uncle told you, whatever he asked you to do, we can figure it out together.”

“Can we?”

“Yes. But only if you trust me.”

Trust. Such a simple word for something so impossible.

I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. “What if the truth destroys everything?”

“Then we’ll deal with that too.”

“What if I’ve done things… promised things that I can’t take back?”

“Then we’ll figure out how to move forward.”

“Dom-”

“Sophie.” His thumbs brush across my cheekbones, wiping away tears I didn’t realize were falling. “Whatever this is, whatever you’re carrying, you don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

For a moment, I almost tell him. Almost confess everything about Uncle Enzo’s ultimatum, about the choice I’ve been forced to make, about the promise I gave to protect him even if it means betraying the man I love.

But then I remember Uncle Enzo’s face when he talked about finishing the job himself. Remember the cold certainty in his voice when he said Dom had to pay for his father’s crimes.

If I tell Dom the truth, he’ll try to protect me. Will put himself in danger to keep me safe.

And Uncle Enzo will kill him for it.

“I need time,” I say instead. “Just… give me a little more time to figure this out.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know.”

Dom studies my face for a long moment, and I can see him making calculations behind his eyes. Weighing my words against what he knows, what he suspects.

“Okay,” he says finally. “But Sophie? Time isn’t infinite. Whatever’s happening, whatever you’re planning, it needs to happen soon.”

“Why?”

“Because I can feel something building. Something dangerous. And I’d rather face it with you than without you.”

He kisses my forehead and heads for the door, pausing at the threshold.

“I’ll be at the office if you need me,” he says. “But Sophie? When you’re ready to tell me the truth, I’ll be ready to listen.”

After he leaves, I sit alone in his study, surrounded by documents and lies and the weight of choices I never wanted to make.

Uncle Enzo expects an answer in six days. Six days to prove my loyalty by destroying the man I love, or watch him do it himself in ways that will be far worse than anything I could devise.

Six days to figure out how to save Dom without betraying the only family I have left.

Six days to perform a miracle I’m not sure I’m capable of.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of half-formed plans and discarded ideas. I try calling Uncle Enzo’s emergency number three times, but it goes straight to voicemail. He’s probably moved locations again, staying ahead of whatever forces might be tracking him.

Or maybe he’s just done talking to me until I give him what he wants.

By noon, the nausea is back with a vengeance. I barely make it to the bathroom before I’m violently sick, my body rebelling against the stress and the lies and the impossible situation I’ve created.

“Mrs. Sophie?” Patrice’s voice comes from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” I call back, but my voice is shaky. “Just something I ate.”

“Should I call a doctor?”

“No. I’m okay.”

But I’m not okay. Haven’t been okay since Uncle Enzo looked at me with disappointment and asked me to choose between love and loyalty.

I splash cold water on my face and try to pull myself together. Six days. I have six days to figure out a solution that saves everyone.

The problem is, I’m starting to think no such solution exists.

Dom calls around three, his voice tense with something I can’t identify.

“Sophie? Are you at home?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just checking. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Another lie. “Dom, is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure. There’s been some… developments at work. Things I need to look into.”

“What kind of developments?”

“The kind that makes me think someone’s been playing a very long game with both our families.”

My blood goes cold. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think we’ve been focused on the wrong enemy this whole time.”

“Dom-”

“I have to go. But Sophie? Be careful today. Don’t go anywhere alone, don’t trust anyone you don’t know, and if anything feels wrong, call me immediately.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Good. Maybe that’ll keep you safe.”

He hangs up before I can ask more questions, leaving me alone with my fear and the growing certainty that whatever’s coming, it’s coming fast.

I think about Uncle Enzo’s ultimatum. About the promise I made to destroy Dom to save his life. About the impossibility of keeping everyone safe when the very act of protection requires betrayal.

And for the first time since this nightmare began, I consider a third option.

What if I tell Dom everything? What if I trust him to find a solution I can’t see? What if, instead of trying to protect everyone alone, I let him help me figure out how to save us all?

The idea terrifies me. Uncle Enzo has been my anchor for sixteen years, the one constant in a world that took everything else away. Betraying his trust feels like cutting off my own arm.

But watching Dom walk away this morning, seeing the hurt and confusion in his eyes when I lied to him again, feels like dying slowly from the inside out.

Maybe it’s time to stop lying. Maybe it’s time to trust the man I love with the truth, even if that truth has the power to destroy us both.

Maybe it’s time to choose love over loyalty, and hope that somehow, it’s enough.

By evening, I’ve made my decision.

Dom returns home looking exhausted and troubled, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled like he’s been running his hands through it all day.

“Bad day?” I ask as he drops his briefcase by the door.

“Complicated day.” He looks at me carefully. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I need to tell you something important.”

“Oh?”

“Tomorrow. At your office. There are things you need to know, and I…” I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “I can’t keep lying to you. Not anymore.”

Something shifts in Dom’s expression. Relief, maybe. Or hope.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s time you knew the truth about everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Dom crosses the room and pulls me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You might not like what I have to tell you.”

“Sophie.” He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that no matter what I tell you, you’ll remember that I love you. That everything I’ve done, every choice I’ve made, has been because I love you.”

“I promise.”

“Even the lies?”

“Even the lies.”

I hope he means that. Because tomorrow, when I tell him about Uncle Enzo’s ultimatum and the promise I made and the choice I’ve been forced to make, he’s going to understand just how much loving him has cost me.

And I’m going to hope it’s enough.

Because if it’s not, if Dom can’t forgive me for the lies and the secrets and the betrayals I’ve committed in the name of protecting him, then Uncle Enzo won’t need to kill him.

The truth will destroy him just fine on its own.