Chapter 1 (Cami)


    America, the ce where dreamse true, and white picket fences are a must.


    “Miss Moretti, your grandfather sends his apologies but he will not being to your birthday. He said


    to enjoy the evening.”


    “Couldn’t he have just called and told me that himself,” I say to Ridwano, my 2nd bodyguard, or was he


    the first?


    “Scusi Signorina.” Sorry, Miss.


    I sigh but say nothing else, as the car continues to travel along the road of no real destination.


    There is pros and cons thate with the title of Dante Moretti’s granddaughter.


    Pro’s were far and few between because the con’s always pped me right in the face. Today is no


    different, only today instead of wasting this chance I am embracing it.


    “Can you drop me off at the hotel?”


    The driver doesn’t question me and I don’t turn my face from the street lights and bustling cars of


    Washington DC. I’m 23 today. 1 year to add to my growing hate of my Grandfather and another year to


    add to the loss of my parents and brother.


    We arrive at the hotel just before 8 pm and in a way, I am d and relieved to just get inside. Sliding


    out of the Bentley, a standard car if your Grandfather is the Godfather of the underworld, I rush to the


    door.


    “Miss Moretti, you are back early, did you enjoy your dinner?” The doorman asks me as he opens the


    door to lead me in. He is a short chubby man, around 50. He reminds me of someone I met on my trip


    to skast September.


    “I did thank you. Do you have a bar around here?” My long dress is not the perfect bar outfit but it is


    definitely me. A mafia princess


    “Certainly, this way.” I move toward the door he’s ushering me to and spot the dim lights and mirrored


    beams before I enter the cozy ce.


    “Thank you.” I signal the bodyguard which is closest to me to tip the guy.


    The ce has a vani scent that hits my nose as I enter and make my way closer to the bar where I


    sit down. The bartender is a handsome bulky man, maybe in histe 30’s.


    “What can I get for thedy.”


    “3-fingers-whiskey, anything ck will do, 16-years or older.”


    “Coming up.” The shelves surrounding the bar are designed in a pyramid of cherry wood finishes.


    Hundreds of bottles of alcohol are stacked around the expanse, catering to a truly wide variety of


    customers.


    “Give her a Jameson Jacob.” The deep voicees from the other end of the bar and my eyes fray to


    the man who now holds my attention.


    “Are you the manager or something?” I am genuinely curious.


    “Or something.” He is hidden in a shade of light so it is hard to make out his face but his voice is deep,


    dry. He must be one hell of a man.


    I get off my chair and make my way toward him as my guards start approaching. I send them a signal


    with my fingers to rx. I don’t want them ruining an evening before it hasn’t even begun. I get closer


    to the man and that is when I see the uniform.


    “You are a soldier? Wow, I didn’t see thating. I’ve never met an American soldier in my life.”


    He says nothing but when I sit next to him and smile, he stares at me with dark intense eyes.


    “What brings an English woman like yourself to this fine dine, dressed like that?”


    “It’s my birthday, so I thought I would dress up and leave my castle and have a drink with a handsome


    man. And not that it makes an inkling of a difference to you, but I am actually Italian.” His face is clean-


    shaven. His head is cropped short and a tattoo is visible on his scalp but the dim lighting in this


    particr area makes him seem like a vivid dream.


    The Bartender brings my drink over to this side and as I take a much-needed sip my eyes stain his


    handsome face with lust.


    “Two Italians in a bar. What are the chances? Like what you looking at?” He asks me and augh


    bubbles in the back of my throat.


    “I’m still looking, I will let you know when I am done.”


    “You don’t strike me as an ordinary Italian, you sound and look British, are you here for holiday?”


    “It’s the hair. I changed it to red. And yes and no. I came to visit some family. I thought I would surprise


    my cousin, and he would be all smiles to see me but I missed him. It seems like he left for London with


    the intention of surprising me. And yes, I like what I see.”


    “The nights still young, who knows what can happen.” When he says that my entire body heats up at


    his not-so-subtle hint. I have never been an exhibitionist but tonight staring at this man I know he was


    about to change that.


    “If I’m going to miss my ne for you, I should get a name.”


    “You first.”


    Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDra/ma.O(r)g!


    “Marco.”


    A man walks toward us with a tray in his hand that has a cell phone on top of it, interrupting our


    conversation.


    “Sir, your brother is on the phone.”


    His eyes stare me down and a flicker of recognition shifts my lust into something deeper. Could it be?


    “Tell my brother something hase up.”


    “Yes sir.”


    I smile as a swamp of nerves rushes through my body as the boy I have loved since I was 8 years old


    sits across from me with want and doesn’t recognize me at all.


    “Do I get that name?”


    “It depends, how badly you want it.”