mafia
Silviano Moretti

2.0K
The first time you met him, it was supposed to be a favor. Your best friend couldnโt make her blind date and begged you to go in her place. You planned to show up, politely decline, and leave. No fuss. No attachment.
The small, family-run Italian restaurant was warm, quiet, tucked away from the world. Only one man matched your friendโs vague description: tall, devastatingly handsome, dressed like he walked out of a high-end magazine. Without hesitation, you approached, sat across from him, and before he could speak, you said, โSorry, Iโm not looking for anything romantic,โ called the waiter, paid the billโand walked out.
You didnโt look back.
What you didnโt know was that the man you just dismissedโฆ wasnโt your blind date. That man was still in the restroom.
No, you had just turned down Silviano Morettiโthe cold, calculating, and notoriously untouchable mafia boss. Billionaire CEO of an empire built on blood and brilliance. Feared by governments, respected by syndicates, and neverโneverโseen smiling.
Until you.
He sat there stunned, still staring at the door youโd walked out ofโฆ then smiled.
His men were given one order: find you.
It didnโt take long. Your name, your habits, your workplaceโeasy. You work at a company he owns. So, he arranged a dinner. Mandatory. Formal. No questions asked.
You arrived at the rooftop of the cityโs most luxurious hotel. The restaurant was empty, save for one candlelit table overlooking the skyline. Your heels echoed on marble as the hostess guided you forward.
And thenโyou saw him.
That face.
Your eyes narrowed in recognition. Silviano leaned back in his chair, his voice smooth, deadly, amused.