CASSIAN
Present Day
I sat inside the Moretti helicopter with tinted glasses framing my face; concealing the scar on my left eye. My attention was buried into the electronic device in my hand.
Social media was already in a frenzy:
"Cassian Moretti Reappears After
Three Years: Heir or Rebel?"
"The Moretti Prince Is Still Alive!"
"The Moretti Heir Spotted At The Moretti Terminal, Three Years After The Explosion. Where Has He Been?"
I managed a scoff.
Dante had buried every media storm following the attack three years ago, but the press never forgot.
Neither did I.
The scar beneath my brow was a permanent reminder of that night.
With a flick of my thumb, I scrolled down the feed, pausing at a short video of Vincenzo and Vittorio standing beside foreign investors.
Speak of the devil.
I waited for the familiar rage to build up: constricted veins; the burn that radiated off my chest from just seeing him alive…nothing.
My lips pressed into a thin line at the anomaly.
This was new.
In three years, I'd felt nothing but blood rush triggers at the sight of Vittorio Selarno on the news, and in front of business magazines.
But this numbness? It was unfamiliar.
My expression remained steel; not faltering even for a second as Vincenzo Selarno's smug smile filled the screen. Vittorio stood beside him, his hand clasped in Luke Winston's.
"The Salernos' About To Close a Major Deal With Foreign Investor: SG Ranks Most Influential and Wealthiest Family In London."
My lips curved faintly at the father-son duo.
"I'm going to enjoy this game," I murmured.
I shut off the screen and dropped the phone beside me.
As the helicopter tilted downward, I exhaled sharply as the lights of the Moretti Villa emerged, revealing a beauty I had missed.
The White House stood at its heart: pale limestone washed in warm cream and sunlit ivory.
I adjusted the black jacket settling across my shoulders, raked a hand through my hair, and leaned back.
Good to be back.
I stepped down and walked towards the front door of the White House.
Brushing a finger along the rim of my tinted glasses, I crossed the threshold as the grand doors opened.
Staff lined inside: maids, security dressed in black suits, and the family's chef bowed stiffly.
I didn't acknowledge them.
I never did.
"Sir," the chief butler said, stepping forward, "your father is expecting you."
The last time I had seen Dante was that night in the private hospital after the explosion.
For the first time, I had seen fear in his eyes.
In the end, every man had fear; however cruel the world believed him to be, only I had ever seen the love he carried.
To them, he was the unshakable Dante Moretti.
To me, he was simply my father.
I adjusted my jacket and gave a small nod. "Of course." I muttered, a tiny twitch at the corner of my lips.
💎 💎
"Cassian, my boy…" Don Dante' eyes brightened, acknowledging my presence the moment I stepped inside his study.
Dark wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling shelves
in rich auburn, a white ceiling hanging above.
Those light-green eyes never left mine as he stood; too bad I took after my mother's look.
"Father," my voice rasped as he shook my hand.
We didn't hug.
We never did.
Dante had raised me to see emotions as a weakness.
"Someone read more in my absence" I remarked, tracing the spine of a cinnamon-colored book.
"It will interest you to know I read the original copy of the Prince by Niccoliò Machiavelli." Dante drawled.
"You're too proud, father." I said, a smug smile appeared on my face.
"A worthy remark right there." Dante said, moving to the compact fridge by the corner.
He took out a bottle of whiskey, poured two glasses, and handed me one.
I caught his eyes cautiously eyeing the scars on my fingers.
"The Selarnos are making news with recent investments," he said after a pause. "What do you think about us investing in a high end condo project?"
I accepted the glass. "You don't have to invest simply because the Selarnos are investing." I shrugged, settling into the plush leather chair.
"Besides, I already did,"
Dante tipped his head to the side, unimpressed. "New development."
"Don't sound like I tell you everything I do, father." I replied coolly.
Brief silence stretched.
Dante stepped forward, nudged my shoulders with his glass, signaled for me to get the fuck off his leather chair.
I did.
He moved closer, closing the distance between us. Raised an eyebrow, a chuckle played on his lips and then the unimaginable happened.
Dante pulled me into a hug!
I froze.
What in the son of a virgin was going on?
I cleared my throat at the awkward display and stepped back, swishing fingers through my hair.
It was surreal.
"Uhm—" I cleared my throat, rolling my eyes upward.
"Have a mental funeral. Forget that happened." Dante said, light green eyes turning to face the glass wall overlooking the villa premise.
He never showed signs of emotions.
His fatherly affection was unpredictable. Cold. Distant.
I studied him.
"I saw nothing." I muttered.
"We've got shipment arriving in two weeks," Dante announced.
Picking up one of the folders from the table, I sat back, legs crossed, and focused my gaze on recent projects. "I'm sure you already informed the men at the port."
He stared down at me.
I stared up at him. I could tell something was chewing him from the inside.
"I'm stepping down from the position of President." Dante Moretti said casually like he was merely discussing the taste of Masseto Toscana. "It's time for you to lead."
He turned, fully frontal, "I want you to step in as President of the Moretti Global dynasty."
I held his gaze momentarily.
"You finally figured I'm the brain here." I replied dryly, dropping the document back on the table.
He wasn't done. I could see it in the way he drank his whiskey.
"Why does it sound like there's more to this announcement?"
His eyes bored into mine.
"I need you to step in as the new president of MGD because you deserve it."
That was unarguable.
"I know. It's about time for Lake Como to feel me." I smirked.
"But there's something you must do."
He hesitated, stepped behind his desk and pulled out another folder, slamming it on the desk.
I looked at him squarely.
His lips parted then closed as the door to the study opened.
Lani Moretti appeared—my mother's replacement.
Chubby. Thick. Black hair. Cute face. Innocent blue eyes. a few years older than me. A true breed of Cosa Nostra. Beautiful.
"Cassian…how lovely to have you back home."
I stepped back. "Stick to the 'no hugs' part of the script, Lani." I scowled, pissed she was interrupting a conversation and then, the smell of that feminine soft cologne clinging to her.
I felt nauseous.
She backed away instantly, her eyes pale with fear as she moved to stand beside Dante.
My eyes narrowed at the edges as I stared at Dante. "Excitement doesn't work well with business. You've said so yourself."
If he loved mother as much as he'd supposedly claimed, how had he moved past her memories quickly enough to replace her?
An uncomfortable silence followed.
Dante gave her a signal and she left.
"Every man needs someone to love." He spoke immediately after the door clicked shut. "You must respect that."
I muttered an expletive under my breath.
"I thought you loved mamma. Looks like your love has no problem with having replacements."
He brushed a hand over his sleek hair. "No one replaced your mamma,"
"It doesn't look that way to me."I gulped the wine, feeling the burn in my throat. I needed it.
"What's your news?" I asked, changing the subject
Dante's demeanor returned quickly. "I need a future heir for MGD."
I felt my stomach tighten. I should be hardly surprised. Hardly moved either. But I was.
I. Didn't. Expect. That.
My grip around the glass tightened, almost crushing it—the only visible proof of the anger at those words.
A pause.
A cold, quiet laugh under my breath, "I don't do commitments, father."
"You don't have to commit. Just marry whoever, and fucking fix your balls into her so she gives me a future heir." Dante said, tone clipped, picking up the folder from the table and throwing it in my direction.
I caught it mid air.
Love never mattered in the Cosa Nostra. If an heir was needed, then marriage was necessary. Marriages were business deals, and you fucking formed alliances that allowed for more deals.
"Page 8. Fifth clause. Family brings stability. And that's something you need, my boy."
My eyes narrowed, lips twitching as I read through the content of the document.
Article V – Succession Requirements
"The designated heir shall only assume the role of President of the family business upon establishing a formal affiliation, including but not limited to marriage, thereby ensuring the heir produces a future heir for posterity sake."
"Interesting notion this is," I said flatly, lifting my gaze to his, "but I don't care."
He smiled.
I have no idea what irritated me most. Dante's ridiculous condition knowing fully well I'd barely survived the betrayal from Emily Bonatti, or the fact that he was using the family business as bait to tie me down.
"I'm stable on my own," I said, voice calm, almost bored. "Women are distractions, one I do not need!"
"Women are alliances. Lani's organizing a welcome party for you tomorrow. You can look around, see what you'll find. Karen Vellani's coming."
"And you think that matters to me?"
I stood, glancing at my Rolex. This meeting was long over.
"Find someone else." I said, slightly contemptuous.
"I don't need someone else. I need you!"
"How…charming." My eyebrows tilted slightly, I turned to leave.
"Cassian…" he said quietly, "I'm told I have cancer." He paused, gave a dry, humorless laugh.
That wasn't a joke.
Five years ago, I'd lost mamma to cancer.
That fucking thing wasn't just a disease, it was devil's way of seeking retribution for the lives we'd taken.
"It's funny how death finds us all." He said, stroking the rim of the tumbler.
My shoulders stiffened as my hand froze on the door.
"I don't have much time left." Dante spoke, his voice steady, but heavy.
I didn't turn to face him.
The hug. The laughter.
I knew something was off!
"The network of businesses we own, our family… I won't be able to manage much longer. You're the only one who can ensure it survives."
He let the pause stretch, heavy with meaning, "...I need you to know you're stable in all things. That includes… alliances, commitments, and marriage. Family and business work under stability."
I swallowed.
Why was he fucking talking too much?
"I'll take my leave." I said briskly, my back towards him, I opened the door and walked out.
Losing one parent was tragic enough. Losing another?
I didn't want to think about it.
I wasn't back for marriage.
Nor any pathetic love story.
I was back just for Vittorio.