Chapter 2 THE MORETTI'S ESTATE （2）
THE MORETTI ESTATE*
The rain hadn’t started yet, but the sky was already an ominous gray, swollen with thunderclouds.
Aurora sat silently in the back seat of the black Maserati, her fingers still curled around the sealed envelope like it was a bomb. Because it was, in a way.
One wrong move, and the entire fragile alliance between the Bellantis and Morettis could explode.
Enzo gripped the steering wheel as they turned off the main road, passing through a long stretch of woods that seemed to grow darker with every passing second.
They approached two massive wrought-iron gates, twice the size of any she’d seen before. Armed guards in black suits flanked the entry, their rifles slung across their chests, faces cold and unreadable.
As Enzo slowed to a halt, one of them stepped forward.
He simply looked at the car, and within seconds, the gate buzzed and slowly creaked open like the maw of a beast.
"Don’t talk too much in there" Enzo said quietly, his eyes fixed ahead. "If they ask questions, answer with caution. And keep your shoulders squared, no matter who you face"
Aurora nodded once.
"You’re not coming in?" she asked.
Enzo gave her a look that was part warning, part regret. "No one walks into the lion’s den unless they’re summoned. I’m not on that list. You are"
Aurora stepped out, pulling her hood up as a few drops of rain began to splatter against the car roof.
The Moretti estate towered above her like something out of a gothic nightmare... stone walls cloaked in ivy, high surveillance towers, and windows that gave nothing away. It was more fortress than home.
A man in a tailored black suit approached. He didn’t introduce himself, only nodded once before holding out his hand.
Aurora hesitated, then handed over the envelope.
He studied it, then slipped it into his coat with a silent nod.
"You won’t be seeing the Don, he’s engaged"
Of course he is, she thought. Men like Salvatore Moretti didn’t take casual meetings.
Suddenly, thunder cracked in the distance and a torrential downpour unleashed above them. The world turned a shade darker.
The guard gestured briskly. "Come. You’ll wait inside until the weather clears"
She followed him through grand doors, stepping into a long hallway that smelled of steel, old wood, and faint cigar smoke.
Expensive art and Moretti family portraits lined the walls, every face hard-eyed and cold, like they’d all killed someone before breakfast.
She was ushered into a room at the far end of the hallway. The door shut behind her with a solid, locking click.
Aurora took in her surroundings.
A lounge, but no less intimidating. Leather furniture. A grand fireplace. A crystal decanter of something dark sat on a nearby table. The storm roared outside, casting shadows across the high ceilings.
She pulled off her damp coat and ran a hand through her hair.
Alone. In the house of her family’s most dangerous allies.
What the hell is in that envelope?
The rain lashed against the tall windows like a warning, lightning occasionally slashing the sky and momentarily illuminating the elegant but brutal décor of the Moretti lounge.
Aurora sat still, the echo of the closing door still haunting her ears. Her coat dripped faintly on the marble floor, her gaze drifting around the space like a quiet observer in enemy territory.
This… didn’t feel like home.
Not even close.
The Bellanti estate was powerful, yes. Feared. But here... here, the air was different.
Colder.
Sharper.
Everything about the Moretti empire screamed predator. From the jagged edges of the steel chandelier above her to the silence that cloaked the walls, this place wasn’t designed for diplomacy but was built for control.
And death.
Even the guards outside hadn’t blinked. Not once.
Aurora ran her hands over her thighs, restless, her thoughts racing.
'They’re worse than us,' she admitted silently. More silent. More calculated. Even their walls keep secrets.
Her gaze flicked to the table where the body guard had placed the envelope earlier, before taking it away.
She never got to see what was inside.
What had her mother sent? What was so important it had to be delivered personally? And why her?
Aurora moved toward the window, watching the storm soak the front courtyard where Enzo’s car waited, barely visible through the sheets of rain.
He was out there.
And she was in here.
Alone.
Trapped inside the lion’s den, in a house with too many locked doors… and just enough darkness to hide something dangerous behind every one of them.
She crossed her arms and turned back toward the room.
Whatever’s in that envelope… it better be worth it.
Because something about this place told her—
This was only the beginning.
She stepped into the marble-tiled bathroom, her soaked dress clinging to her skin like a second layer of nerves. She peeled it off with trembling fingers, wringing it out before draping it over the metal rack to dry.
Her body shivered slightly, not just from the cold… but from everything. This house.
And then she saw it.
A robe. Deep emerald, thick silk, placed neatly on the counter like it had been waiting for her.
She reached for it and slid it on.
She stared at her reflection for a beat too long. Then turned, padded barefoot back into the room.
And froze.
Her heart stopped.
There, sitting like a king of shadows in the dimly lit room, was Matteo Moretti.
Not a man you could ever mistake for harmless.
He was danger dressed in casual grace, sprawled elegantly in a leather armchair like the whole world belonged to him, one leg crossed over the other, a newspaper resting between his fingers.
Eyes dark, unreadable. Jaw carved like a blade.
The storm outside howled through the windows.
Inside, silence roared.
Aurora's breath stuttered. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Could only feel the chaos his presence stirred in her chest.
Matteo looked up.
And smiled.
Slow. Lethal.
"Well... hello there"
He folded the paper in half without breaking eye contact. Rose from the chair in one slow motion.
Every inch of him oozed authority. Darkness. Sin wrapped in tailored silk.
Aurora took a step back, instinct pulling her away even though her body buzzed with heat.
He kept coming.
Another step back. Then another.
Until her back hit the wall.
Matteo stopped just inches from her. Close enough that she could smell the tobacco and leather on his skin. Close enough that his presence alone stole her breath.
His eyes dragged down her body, pausing at the knot on her robe.
His tongue touched the corner of his mouth. His smirk deepened.
"Didn’t know Bellantis walked around in nothing but my colors. You wear it so well... almost like you want to be unwrapped"
Aurora’s lips parted, but no sound came.
He leaned in, one hand pressing against the wall beside her head, caging her in.
"You know, I’ve killed men for less than looking at me the wrong way today," he whispered, his breath brushing her ear. "But you... you walk into my lounge, drip rainwater on my floor, and wear my fuçking robe like you belong here"
He pulled back just enough to meet her wide eyes.
"What should I do with you, piccola bellezza?" he asked, nonchalant, as if he were choosing between coffee or blood.
"Let you go... or make you scream so loud the walls forget your name?"
His smile didn’t match the menace in his tone. That’s what made him terrifying.
Unpredictable.
Unfiltered.
Deadly.
Matteo reached for the belt of her robe, and stopped just before touching it.
A beat passed.
Then he chuckled, stepping back like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just threatened to wreck her in the most sinful way imaginable.
"Relax," he said with a wink. "If I wanted you bare and on your knees... you'd already be there"
Matteo’s hand slipped inside his pocket like a shadow. Before Aurora could even blink, the cold steel of a pocket knife gleamed against the dim light as it pressed gently but unmistakably against her throat.
Her breath hitched, every muscle frozen. One wrong move, one twitch, and that razor edge would cut through her skin, ending everything.
For a heartbeat, the world shrank down to the whisper of cold metal and the pounding of her heart.
Her eyes squeezed shut, heart hammering in her chest as the seconds stretched unbearably long. She expected the worst. The ruthless edge slicing through flesh. The sharp, cruel finality.
But then, unexpected, she felt something warm, soft, and unsettling, graze the sensitive skin of her neck. His lips. Not the slash of the blade, but the press of his mouth, brief and possessive, feather-light against her skin.
A breath. A whisper of heat that contradicted the cold threat of the knife.
She didn’t dare open her eyes. Instead, she felt him lean closer, his voice vibrating against her ear.
"You made a mistake coming here. I won’t let you go easily"
