THE MORETTI HEIRESS

ia Mo

undation for H

em old-money elites and polished mafia affiliates hiding behind designer suits and fake titles. They bid on luxury yachts and rare art not for charity, but for clout...because at this party, giving is just anot

f given a choice, I'd rather just be with Sister Angela or play with the children at the orphanage. But you know what

eps in and my mouth turns bon

inch of his powerful frame. Longish black hair grazed his collar and fell over one gunmetal gray eye,

overly flashy about him, yet he's magnetic. His eyes are sharp. Calculating. Not the unsettl

the room, and I swear

. Twice. He's

ssessive, even. Like he already knows I'l

yone hold my gaze too long. It gives people ideas

y moving my lips. I don't thi

h mischief. "You mean tall, dark, and brooding? No clue. He came

e thought of what my father's reaction could be makes me smile. I mask t

ng me. I don't know how b

gh, I know it's all for show. Most of these people are here to launder reputations or money. My family's no different. We sponsored this event, though I didn't bother asking w

me. But tonight's different, tonight... he's here. And I'm not b

iles. Slow, deliberate, not arrogant, just... sure, like he knows exactl

mes too much, Alessia Moretti doesn't have

kling in innocence. I lean on the stone railing, careful not to wrinkle the dress Papa's tailor obsessed

eyes. Breat

ce says...deep, gravelly, rolling over me like a velvety care

s snap

s h

hand in his pocket, the other holding a c

ing my voice to stay even,

things always smell like desper

rs elegance like armor, like it mean

h causality. "Even wolve

e that I don't stop it. "Are y

"Not unless

akes m

that doesn't just look at you, they read you like they wan

a step

there," I say, noddin

her d

is charged, buzzing lik

ore," I say. "And I know

aybe I'm not

't belie

says. "

th of us. His smile shifts,

eaking another rule. Fuck, it

en stubs the cigarette on

t Xa

r n

ly infuriating. Clearly every

ike

e in corners and smoke like you're going to be pu

work o

still, that is not good at all, I should

"Yes." He says it wi

hy

h it. "Because I've never seen anyone who l

st

. But this? This feels different. He says it like a confessio

ntic or insulting," I say, t

ver, It's ho

then walk

y is still charged. He's still there, still

charm investors and donors and heirs with fragile egos and take personalities. But every time the roo

ence feel so loud. And I'm not ex