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

Chapter Two

Dom

“ I ’m not telling you anything.”

Sophie’s standing in the center of my living room, arms crossed, chin tilted at that defiant angle I’ve come to recognize as her default setting when she’s cornered.

“Especially not where my uncle and aunt are,” she continues, green eyes blazing with the kind of fire that should warn me off but only draws me closer. “You can keep me here, play your sick little games, but I won’t give you what you want.”

I pour myself a cup of coffee, taking my time with the cream and sugar.

“I already know where they are,” I say finally, not bothering to look up from my cup.

The sharp intake of breath tells me she didn’t expect that.

“Enzo Bellini operates several business ventures from his estate in Westchester. Your aunt Martha manages the family’s affairs from their home.

I take a sip of coffee, savoring both the bitter warmth and the way Sophie’s face has gone pale.

“Should I continue? Or would you prefer I skip to the part about the construction partnerships, the overseas accounts, and the monthly meetings your uncle has been having with associates who value discretion above all else?”

Sophie’s mouth opens, then closes. For a moment, she looks exactly like what she is: a young woman who’s been playing a game she never really understood.

“You know nothing,” she whispers.

“I’m thorough.” I set the cup down and finally meet her eyes. “Something you might have learned about me if you’d done your research properly before walking into my office with that ridiculous story about Blackwater Talent.”

“It wasn’t ridiculous. It worked.”

“It worked because I let it work.” Her jaw tightens as the words leave my mouth, but I don’t regret it. She needs to understand exactly how outmatched she’s been from the beginning. “I’ve known every move you’ve made, every lie you’ve told, every desperate attempt to stay one step ahead of me.”

Sophie flinches like I’ve struck her. “Then why didn’t you expose me immediately?”

I move closer, drawn by something I don’t want to name. “Maybe I was curious to see how far you’d go. Maybe I wanted to understand what drives a woman to dedicate her life to destroying someone she’s never met.”

“You know why,” she breathes.

We stare at each other across the space between us, and I can see the exact moment she realizes I’m not going to make this easy for her.

That whatever story she’s been told, whatever version of the truth she’s been carrying, I’m going to make her say it out loud.

“Your father killed my parents,” she says finally. “Took everything from my family and left us with nothing.”

Neither of us speaks. The words are still bleeding out.

I’ve been expecting it, preparing for it, but hearing the words still sends a familiar rage coursing through my veins.

“My father,” I repeat slowly, “was a businessman. He built an empire through hard work and strategic partnerships. He didn’t need to steal from anyone, least of all the Bellinis.”

“That’s not what I was told.”

“And what exactly were you told, Sophie?”

She hesitates, and I can see the conflict playing out across her features.

“That the Morettis betrayed a friendship. That they used inside information to destroy my father’s business and then…” She swallows hard. “Then they killed him to cover their tracks.”

“Interesting story.” I finish my coffee and set the cup aside. “Complete fiction, but interesting nonetheless.”

“It’s not fiction!”

I study her face, looking for cracks in the certainty. “Tell me, Sophie, have you ever seen proof of these allegations? Documents? Witnesses? Or have you simply taken your uncle’s word as gospel?”

The flush that creeps up her neck tells me everything I need to know.

“I have to go to work,” I say, reaching for my jacket. “We’ll continue this conversation tonight.”

“Dom, wait—”

“You’re not leaving this house, Sophie. Don’t test me on this.”

I’m almost to the door when she calls out again.

“What if I did have proof? What if there were things you didn’t know about your father?”

I pause, my hand on the doorknob. “Then I’d say you’re even more naive than I thought.”

***

My secretary has already arranged the morning correspondence on my desk by the time I arrive. The usual stack of business letters, invoices, and industry publications. I’m reaching for my coffee when something catches my eye.

A plain white envelope sits among the pile. It’s different from the rest, with no company letterhead and no return address. Just my name typed across the front in block letters.

I pick it up, turning it over in my hands. The paper feels cheap, nothing like the expensive stationery that usually crosses my desk.

I should call security. Protocol dictates that any suspicious mail gets handled by professionals before it reaches me. But something about the careful anonymity makes me slice it open myself.

The paper inside is just as plain. A single paragraph, typed in the same block letters.

I’m coming to finish what happened between the Bellinis and Morettis. Both families will pay for what they’ve done.

My blood goes cold. I read it again, then a third time, but the words don’t change.

Someone knows about Sophie. Someone knows she’s in my house, under my protection.

Or someone wants me to think they know.

I’m still staring at the letter, mind racing through possibilities, when Raff appears in my doorway.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, dropping into the chair across from my desk. “You look like someone who’s been having very interesting conversations with house guests.”

I slide the letter into my desk drawer with what I hope appears to be casual indifference. “Just reviewing some correspondence.”

Raff’s eyes narrow. “Correspondence that requires hiding the moment I walk in?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Dom.” He leans forward, suddenly serious. “We’ve been friends for over a decade. I know when you’re keeping something from me, and right now you’re practically vibrating with secrets.”

Before I can respond, my secretary’s voice comes through the intercom. “Mr. Moretti? Mr. Caruso is here to see you.”

Giuseppe Caruso. My father’s old associate, though calling him a friend would be generous. He’s the kind of man who trades in favors and information, who builds his power through carefully cultivated debts and strategic alliances.

“Send him in,” I say, already regretting the decision.

Raff glances between me and the door. “Should I go?”

“No. Stay.”

Caruso enters like he owns the place, all expensive suits and practiced charm. He’s aged since I last saw him, silver threading through his dark hair, but his eyes are as sharp as ever.

“Domenico,” he says, extending a hand. “You look well.”

“Giuseppe.” I shake his hand briefly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Can’t an old friend visit without ulterior motives?” He settles into the chair beside Raff without being invited. “Although, now that you mention it, there have been some concerning rumors circulating.”

“What kind of rumors?”

Caruso’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “The kind that suggests you’ve brought a viper into your nest, figlio. A Bellini, working in your company. Living in your home.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Raff looks tense, though he doesn’t speak.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” I say carefully.

“Sophie Bellini.” Caruso’s voice is soft, conversational. “Daughter of Marco Bellini. The same Marco Bellini who tried to destroy your father all those years ago.”

“That’s an interesting theory.”

“It’s not a theory, Domenico. It’s a fact. And the fact that you’ve allowed her not just into your company but into your personal life…” He shakes his head sadly. “Your father would be devastated.”

Rage builds in my chest, hot and immediate. “My father’s opinion is irrelevant, considering he’s been dead for sixteen years.”

“Which is exactly why you need guidance from those who knew him. Who understood his principles.” Caruso leans forward, lowering his voice. “This girl is poison, figlio. She’s here for revenge, and every day you allow her to remain is another day she can plan your destruction.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That you look weak, Domenico. Completely outmaneuvered by a Bellini. Your father would be ashamed.” Caruso leans forward. “People are talking. Saying you’ve gone soft. That you’ve let a woman make a fool of you.”

The pause stretches long enough to be meaningful. When Caruso speaks again, his words are measured, careful.

“Problems like this have a way of resolving themselves if one is creative about solutions. People disappear all the time in this city. Accidents happen. Sometimes it’s the kindest outcome for everyone involved.”

The suggestion hangs in the air like a toxic cloud. Raff has gone completely still, and I can feel his shock even without looking at him.

“You’re suggesting I make Sophie Bellini disappear,” I say flatly.

“I’m suggesting you consider all your options.” Caruso’s smile is cold. “Before she makes that choice for you.”

He stands, straightening his jacket. “Think about it, Domenico. Your father built an empire by making difficult decisions. Sometimes the right choice isn’t the easy one.”

“And sometimes,” I say, rising to face him, “the right choice is telling well-meaning friends to mind their own fucking business.”

Caruso’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Careful, figlio. Loyalty to the wrong people has destroyed better men than you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s advice. From someone who cares about your welfare.” He moves toward the door, then pauses. “Though I do hope you’ll give my words serious consideration. It would be unfortunate if more drastic measures became necessary.”

The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving Raff and me alone in the suddenly oppressive silence.

“Jesus Christ, Dom,” Raff breathes. “What the hell was that about?”

I sink back into my chair, mind racing. Caruso’s visit wasn’t random. Someone told him about Sophie, which means her presence here isn’t as secret as I’d believed. And if Caruso knows, others know too.

“Dom.” Raff’s voice is sharp now. “Talk to me. Who is Sophie Bellini?”

I could tell him. Should tell him, probably. Raff has been my closest friend since college, the one person I trust without reservation. But this secret feels too big, too dangerous to share.

“It’s complicated,” I say finally.

“Uncomplicate it.”

I meet his eyes, seeing genuine concern there. “Sophie Greco isn’t who she claimed to be when she applied for the job. She’s been working under a false identity.”

“And you knew this how long?”

“Since the beginning.”

Raff stares at me for a long moment. “You’ve been playing some kind of game with her.”

“Something like that.”

“And now this Caruso shows up, saying you’ve let a woman make a fool of you. He’s talking about making people disappear, too, and you’re sitting here like this is just another Tuesday at the office.” Raff runs a hand through his hair. “Dom, what have you gotten yourself into?”

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes with a text message. Unknown number.

The girl dies, or you both do. Choose wisely.

I stare at the screen, feeling pieces of a puzzle I don’t yet understand clicking into place. The letter. Caruso’s visit. Now this.

Someone is orchestrating this. Someone wants Sophie dead, and they’re using me to make it happen.

“I have to go,” I say, grabbing my jacket.

“Go where? Dom, you can’t just leave after dropping something like this on me.”

“I’ll explain later.” I’m already moving toward the door. “Just… watch yourself, Raff. And don’t trust anyone asking questions about Sophie or me.”

“Dom!”

But I’m already gone, mind fixed on a single, crystal-clear realization.

Whatever game I thought I was playing with Sophie Bellini, the stakes just got infinitely higher. And if I want to keep her alive long enough to get the truth out of her, I’m going to have to find a way to protect her that doesn’t involve making her disappear.

The elevator ride down gives me time to think, to consider options. Traditional protection won’t work, not when the threat is coming from inside the community my father helped build. I need something more permanent. More binding.

Something that makes Sophie untouchable.

The lobby magazine rack catches my eye as I wait for my car. Business journals, financial newspapers, and tucked between them, a glossy lifestyle magazine with a cover story about society weddings.

When Marriage Means More Than Love: Strategic Unions in High Society

I stare at the headline for a long moment, an idea beginning to form in the back of my mind. Crazy. Impossible. But maybe…

Maybe crazy is exactly what this situation requires.

The concept crystallizes as I think about Caruso’s visit, his thinly veiled threats.

Right now, Sophie makes me look weak - the CEO who was fooled by a beautiful spy.

But what if I flipped the narrative entirely? What if instead of being her victim, I became her master?

What if I’m not the fool who was deceived, but the master who conquered his enemy so completely that he made her his wife?

My phone buzzes again. This time it’s a call from the house.

“Mr. Moretti?” Patrice, the housekeeper’s voice is tight with concern. “I think you should come home. Miss Sophie… she’s not well.”

The magazine forgotten, I’m already running toward my car.