Page 148 of Rosetti Family New York
The words settle over me, warming me from the inside out. It feels like breaking the surface after being underwater too long, like taking a breath and filling my lungs with everything I didn’t know I was missing.
The city sprawls below us, lights glittering like distant stars. It's late November, and the chill outside sharpens the warmth in here. We haven’t left this room since yesterday, haven’t thought about anything but each other. It’s luxurious, in more ways than the penthouse, to not care about the world for a while.
I lean back, taking in his face, memorizing every angle and line. He looks relaxed, more so than I’ve ever seen him. He looks more open too, like he’s letting me in. The weight he always carries seems lighter now.
"What’s going on in that head of yours?" I ask, running my finger along his jaw.
He catches my hand, bringing it to his lips. "That I’m going to keep you here as long as I can."
I raise an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "I didn’t realize I was your prisoner."
"You’re not." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I’m yours."
The way he says it, the quiet intensity in his voice, makes my heart skip. For so long, I’ve felt like a pawn in someone else’s game. Here with Dom, it feels different. We’re equals. I’m not his property. I’m not anyone’s. I am, for the first time, choosing.
I tilt my head, giving him a playful smirk. "I could get used to having you at my mercy."
"I think you already have," he says, rolling me over so he’s above me.
I laugh, and it’s a real sound, unguarded and free.
My laugh echoes off the walls and fills the air, and he joins in, a low rumble that wraps around me. I reach up, tracing the outline of his smile. It's a rare thing to see him so unburdened, and I drink it in. His suit jacket is thrown over the back of a chair, his shirt discarded somewhere across the room. It's a new look for him, this undone, rumpled elegance. For once, he doesn’t seem to care.
The heat between us builds again, and I can’t tell if it’s coming from his skin or mine.
"We could stay here forever," I say, arching into him.
"Forever’s a long time," he murmurs against my neck, "but I’m game if you are."
The world outside doesn’t exist here. It’s just us, caught in this moment that feels like an eternity in itself. Our own little universe.
Dom holds my gaze, his expression softening, turning serious but still so warm. He looks like a man in love, and I wonder if he sees the same thing in me. "What’s that look for?" he asks, brushing his lips over my forehead.
I hold him tighter, as if that’s possible. "I never thought I’d have this."
"Neither did I." He shifts, pulling me with him until we’re a tangled mess on the bed.
I let myself fall into the feeling, losing myself in him. He makes a noise, something between a growl and a chuckle, and it’s the most wonderful sound I’ve ever heard. The room spins around us, blurred and electric, until all I know is his skin and his touch and the fierce, incredible rightness of being together.
His mouth finds mine, and I’m breathless and lost and found all at once. Nothing else matters. Just this. Just him. Just us.
We walk into the office building where the Rosetti family runs their empire. The lobby smells like aftershave. Everything’s sleek and modern, from the polished steel to the immaculate glass, and security watches us closely. The elevator ride up is quiet. I’m too proud to admit I’m nervous because Dom wouldjust whisk me away, back to the penthouse suite, but I insisted on coming. I have to do this.
When we reach the conference room, Sal, Rafe, Emilio, Leonardo, and Matteo are already waiting. It feels like walking into a firing squad, but I hold my head high. Whatever they throw at me, I’ll survive.
The room is spacious, cold with authority. The walls are lined with dark wood, the table long and polished. It's a room meant for deals, for decisions that topple empires. Dom walks in like he owns the place, which, of course, he does. I follow, my heels echoing against the hardwood floor. I’m not afraid, I tell myself.
The last time I was with these men, we were surrounded by bullets and blood. Before that, they were after my skin. Dom catches my eye and gives me a small nod. It steadies me.
The Rosetti men look up as we enter. Sal, the patriarch, sits at the head of the table, his sharp green eyes missing nothing. Rafe leans back in his chair, arms crossed, the usual scowl on his face. Matteo and Emilio, both in suits but each wearing them in his own way—one stylishly messy, the other neatly casual—exchange a glance. They weren’t expecting me.
I straighten my spine, set my jaw. They’ll know I’m not here to hide.
"Besiana," Salvatore says, his voice smooth and measured. "This is a surprise."
I offer a nod, keeping my expression neutral. "I wanted to see you all in person."
"Brave," Emilio says, raising an eyebrow. "Which arm of our business do you plan to destroy today?"
