Possession and Obsession

Possession and Obsession

Stephanie Moretti

5.0
Comment(s)
59
View
11
Chapters

"Pick up the gun, Valentina." Her fingers trembled, blood splattered across her silk dress. The metallic scent of death curled in her nose. She shook her head violently. "I won't- please don't make me do this again" Dominic's grip was brutal as he shoved the gun into her palm. "You don't get to say no. Pull the damn trigger." The man kneeling before her sobbed, pleading for mercy. But in this world, mercy is weakness. "If you don't kill him, I will. And then you'll watch as I paint these walls with your family's blood next." Her breath hitched. She pulled the trigger. Valentina Moretti was born into power but raised in ignorance. Kept clean, untouched, and ready by a father whose only use of her was to trade her. Now, she's been gifted to Dominic Caruso, the cold, merciless heir of the most feared Mafia family in the country. A man who bathes in blood, thrives in destruction, and holds no regard for the fragile woman forced into his bed. She was supposed to be a treaty, a way to end a war before it began. But in Dominic's world, peace is just a pretty word whispered by cowards. "You are mine, Valentina. Your body. Your mind. Your soul." "I will never be yours." His smirk was a blade across her throat. "Oh, sweetheart... you already are." She thought she could escape. She thought she could survive him. She was wrong. This is not a love story. This is survival. And Valentina's only options are to kneel... or bleed.

Possession and Obsession Chapter 1 Valentina

Please-please, I swear, I didn't mean-" Benny tried begging.

A gunshot cracked through the air, sharp and final.

Dominic didn't blink as the man's body jerked, then slumped against the blood-slick floor. The metallic scent of death mingled with the acrid burn of gunpowder, thick in the cold night air. Smoke curled from the barrel of his gun, the only movement in the sudden, hollow silence that followed.

Dominic exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on the pistol. His pulse wasn't racing. It never did. Killing was a task, like signing a contract or pouring a drink. Necessary. Expected.

Please-please, Dom, I swear I didn't mean to-" Eddie knew he was next as he watched Benny's body slump to the floor.

"You didn't mean to?" Dominic's voice was quiet, almost amused. He tilted his head, watching the man tremble. "You took my money. You ran like a coward. And then you sold my fucking shipment . That's three mistakes, Eddie."

Eddie whimpered, his sweaty face twisted in panic. "I-I had no choice! They threatened my family-"

Dominic crouched in front of him, gun resting against his knee. "I don't give a fuck about your family. You should've come to me."

"I was scared, Dom."

Dominic smiled, slow and humorless. "You should be."

And then he stood, pressing the barrel of his Glock against Eddie's forehead.

The man sobbed, shaking violently. "Please. I have a son-"

Dominic pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the warehouse, sharp and final. Eddie's body jerked before crumpling sideways, blood spilling onto the concrete in a thick, dark pool.

Dominic sighed, wiping a stray drop of blood off his sleeve. He fucking hated it when they begged. If a man was going to die, he should die with some dignity.

The silence after was heavier than before except from the choked whimpers coming from the last man.

Marco.

He was on his knees, shaking like a rat caught in a trap, his back pressed against a table stacked with stolen money-Dominic's money. His face was drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling in frantic gasps. He reeked of fear.

Dominic rolled his shoulders, his muscles still tense, still pulsing with the high of the kill. Blood splattered his knuckles, staining the expensive watch on his wrist. He wiped a smear of red from his face with the back of his hand, unbothered.

"Eddie and Benny are dead," Dominic said, his voice calm, like he was stating a fact.

Marco let out a strangled whimper.

"You're the last one," Dominic continued, his footsteps slow, deliberate. "Which means you get the honor of telling me... what the fuck were you thinking?"

Marco shook his head violently. "D-Dom, listen, it was never supposed to go this far-"

Dominic pulled the trigger.

Boom.

A bullet tore through Marco's shoulder, the force knocking him back against the table. He screamed, clutching at the open wound, blood spilling between his fingers.

"Wrong answer." Dominic crouched in front of him, tilting his head. "Try again."

Marco's breath hitched. His pupils were blown wide, his skin pale as death. "Please, Dom," he sobbed, his voice breaking. "It wasn't my idea, I swear-"

Another shot.

This time, to the leg.

Marco's body jerked violently. His scream was so loud it rattled the rafters.

Dominic sighed. "You're really bad at this."

Blood dripped onto the concrete, the sound eerily quiet against the crackling flames in the background. His men had already set the place ablaze-burning the evidence, the betrayal, the lesson he had just taught.

Marco wheezed, eyes flickering between pleading and realization.

There was no way out.

Dominic pressed the barrel of his gun beneath Marco's chin, forcing his head up until their eyes met.

"Last chance," Dominic murmured. "Tell me something useful, and I'll make it quick."

Tears leaked down Marco's cheeks. His lips trembled. And then, finally-

"It was the Morettis."

Dominic stilled.

For a second, the only thing he could hear was the fire consuming the warehouse, the soft pop of embers devouring the stolen money.

The Morettis.

His family's oldest enemy.

A slow, dark smile curled Dominic's lips. "Now that," he murmured, "is useful."

Then, he pulled the trigger.

Boom.

Marco's body slumped, blood splattering across the stacks of burning cash. The Morettis had played a hand in this? Good. That just gave Dominic an excuse to wipe them off the map.

He turned on his heel and walked out, the flames swallowing up the past hour of carnage behind him.

By the time he got home, the blood had dried, crusting over his skin like war paint.

His penthouse was quiet. But not empty.

"Dominic."

He turned.

His father stood at the top of the stairs, watching him with that same unreadable expression he always wore. The expression that said he already knew everything.

"Come to my office," his father said. "Now."

Dominic exhaled sharply before turning and following his father up the stairs.

The office smelled like whiskey and old leather, the dim glow of the city skyline casting sharp shadows across the bookshelves. Dominic stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

His father sat behind the desk, fingers steepled, his gaze heavy. "Do you know why I called you here?"

"If it's about the Morettis-"

"It is."

Dominic leaned back against the door, crossing his arms. "Good. Then you already know I'm going to kill them."

His father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, Dominic. You're not."

Dominic stiffened. "The hell I'm not."

His father lifted his gaze, sharp and unyielding. "You're not. Because you're going to marry their daughter instead."

Silence.

The words didn't register immediately. Not because Dominic hadn't heard them-he had. But because they didn't make sense.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "That's a joke, right?"

His father's face remained stone cold. "It's already decided. A marriage between the Carusos and the Morettis will solidify our alliance. It will end this war before it begins. It will make us stronger."

Dominic took a step forward, his body coiled tight, fists clenched. "They stole from us," he hissed. "They fucking betrayed us. And you expect me to just-what? Put a ring on their princess and smile?"

"Yes," his father said simply.

Dominic let out a breath. His blood was still hot from the kill, from the fire, from the rage still simmering beneath his skin. And now? This?

"Who is she?" he asked, voice flat.

His father's gaze didn't waver. "Valentina Moretti."

Dominic clenched his jaw. He'd heard the name before. Moretti's only daughter. Kept hidden. Untouched by their business. A pawn waiting to be played.

And now, she was supposed to be his.

"This is fucking bullshit," he muttered, turning toward the door.

His father's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You leave tomorrow to meet her."

Dominic inhaled slowly, then exhaled.

This wasn't over.

But for now? He had no choice.

Continue Reading

You'll also like

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

Roderic Penn

I stood at my mother's open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest's voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone-he brought Charla with him. He claimed she'd had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

Katie Oettgen

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Brother

Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Brother

Reilly Mcardle

I arrived at the hotel with Julian's favorite takeout, ready to surprise my fiancé before our big merger. But the moment I swiped the keycard, the silence of the hallway felt heavy and wrong. Inside, a red-soled stiletto lay on the marble floor-the same one I'd watched my best friend Lila try on at Saks last week. Through the cracked bedroom door, I watched Julian's back arch as Lila looked me straight in the eye and smiled, wrapping her legs tighter around him to mock my heartbreak. I fled to the penthouse to hide, only to find Grafton, Julian's "crippled" brother, waiting in the dark. To my horror, the man who was supposed to be paralyzed stood up from his wheelchair, gripped my chin with cold fingers, and forced me to sign a contract that gave him control of my family's shares. He knew about my mother's secret medical bills and used them to buy my silence, effectively turning my life into a calculated game of corporate chess. The betrayal tasted like acid, and the injustice of it all burned in my throat. My fiancé was a liar, my best friend was a thief, and the man now controlling my fate was a predator who had been faking his disability for years. I couldn't understand how everyone I trusted had turned out to be a monster. I was trapped between a man who cheated on me and a man who wanted to own me, with no way out and no one to turn to. But when Julian came looking for me, Grafton didn't hide; he stood tall, looming over me with a possessive glint in his eyes. "Help me destroy Julian," I rasped, realizing that to survive the Faulkner men, I had to become the most dangerous player of them all.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
Possession and Obsession Possession and Obsession Stephanie Moretti Mafia
“"Pick up the gun, Valentina." Her fingers trembled, blood splattered across her silk dress. The metallic scent of death curled in her nose. She shook her head violently. "I won't- please don't make me do this again" Dominic's grip was brutal as he shoved the gun into her palm. "You don't get to say no. Pull the damn trigger." The man kneeling before her sobbed, pleading for mercy. But in this world, mercy is weakness. "If you don't kill him, I will. And then you'll watch as I paint these walls with your family's blood next." Her breath hitched. She pulled the trigger. Valentina Moretti was born into power but raised in ignorance. Kept clean, untouched, and ready by a father whose only use of her was to trade her. Now, she's been gifted to Dominic Caruso, the cold, merciless heir of the most feared Mafia family in the country. A man who bathes in blood, thrives in destruction, and holds no regard for the fragile woman forced into his bed. She was supposed to be a treaty, a way to end a war before it began. But in Dominic's world, peace is just a pretty word whispered by cowards. "You are mine, Valentina. Your body. Your mind. Your soul." "I will never be yours." His smirk was a blade across her throat. "Oh, sweetheart... you already are." She thought she could escape. She thought she could survive him. She was wrong. This is not a love story. This is survival. And Valentina's only options are to kneel... or bleed.”
1

Chapter 1 Valentina

17/04/2025

2

Chapter 2 Dominic meet

17/04/2025

3

Chapter 3 To unity!

17/04/2025

4

Chapter 4 She's nothing but my slut

17/04/2025

5

Chapter 5 A perfectly preserved offering

17/04/2025

6

Chapter 6 Congratulations, wife!

17/04/2025

7

Chapter 7 It never goes away, Valentina

17/04/2025

8

Chapter 8 Tonight !

17/04/2025

9

Chapter 9 Dominic Caruso

17/04/2025

10

Chapter 10 You Win, Dominic

17/04/2025

11

Chapter 11 You can never escape me

17/04/2025