Chapter 15 Domenico
Domenico
Il Lusso is alive. The lights of the club shimmer in glass and gold.
The New York elite flock here like moths to a flame, their laughter spiraling toward the ceiling.
My family built this place, and the way it thrums makes me feel alive.
I’d rather be here than anywhere else, and with Besiana here, tucked tight against my side, I’m happy.
After secretly trailing Besiana all day while she shopped with Carmela and bought half of Manhattan, I decided it was time she came with me.
Now, I study her, trying to understand if she’s pleased or plotting, but her expression is blank and unreadable.
I’m about to ask when the business partner finally appears.
Hector Galletti looks like he stepped out of an Armani ad, complete with too-white teeth and a smile that belongs on billboards. He waves me toward the elevator, his eyes lingering a moment too long on Besiana.
“Domenico! Good to see you. I see you brought company.” Hector’s voice booms over the noise as he makes a show of looking everywhere but at Besiana. Smart man. He flashes another ad-worthy smile before I can respond and gestures to the elevator.
“Yes.” My tone cuts short any further questions. She’s none of his business. “Let’s get started.”
We thread through a maze of high-stakes dealers.
Hector keeps glancing back, probably wondering why she’s here.
He’d really wonder if he knew what went down at the warehouse.
We step into the elevator, and I press the button for the third floor.
It’s all class up there, private lounges with thick glass walls overlooking the chaos below.
I lead us to one of the lounges and gesture for Hector to take a seat. He doesn’t, so neither do I. This isn’t my first game, and I know how to play it. Hector’s eyes dart to Besiana again as I stand next to her, his curiosity practically buzzing.
“I’m thinking upscale, Domenico.” He leans in, lowering his voice. “Exclusive clientele only. Word gets around that the Rosettis are dealing in a luxury product, you’ll be even more legendary.” Those teeth-baring smiles never quit with this guy.
“Obviously.”
I let Besiana settle against the dark leather couch and sit next to her. Hector knows how to piss me off, parroting back my ideas like he thought of them first, but he knows the right people to distribute the product. That’s why I called him in on this deal.
He’s about to reply when the door slams open, and Raffaele storms in like a damn hurricane. His black leather gloves creak as he points a finger at Hector, then at me.
Raffaele doesn’t bother with a greeting. His eyes blaze right past Besiana and Hector, pinning me with accusation.
“You cutting me out, Dom? What the hell?”
His words are a bullet, no hesitation, no care for the fallout.
Anger rises inside me, but I keep it locked down. My voice is calm enough to chill the room.
“I don’t discuss family matters with you here, Raffaele.”
I throw a glance at Hector, who’s watching us like a fox. How dare Rafe bring this out in front of a business associate, showing the Rosettis as fractured? It’s reckless, impulsive, the usual damn Raffaele way. I’m letting him know exactly that with a look, but he just glares back.
Rafe shoves a hand through his hair, ignoring the warning, ignoring everything except his own accusation.
Then he shifts, backs away from questions of family loyalty and starts in on distribution.
“I just want to do best for everyone. Iride is a party drug, not a Birkin bag. We make more selling to everyone.”
He’s pacing now, gloves clenched at his sides, working up a full head of steam.
I watch him, weighing my words. “We’ve been through this,” I say. “We want the right people to have it. We’re going upscale.”
Does he think I haven’t already done the math? We have an image to protect, a legacy to maintain, something he’d know if he bothered to think past his own damn fists.
“Upscale? What the hell, Dom?” Rafe’s voice is a roar. It bounces off the glass walls, draws attention, makes Hector’s eyebrows lift in amusement. “We want it on the streets, everywhere. We need volume.”
He’s deadly serious. He always is, when he feels like I’m stepping over him.
I feel Besiana’s eyes on me, cool and observing, waiting to see what I’ll do. I need to keep this rogue brother in check.
“We don’t need you getting yourself arrested,” I say, my voice slicing through his accusations.
“Cops aren’t gonna touch me.” He’s loud and relentless, the complete opposite of Hector’s smug poise. “We’re losing money doing it your way.”
“And we’d lose everything doing it yours.”
I look at Raffaele, daring him to test me on this, my eyes cold and precise. We’ve played this game a thousand times, but he doesn’t seem to see the walls closing in on him yet.
Hector clears his throat like he’s trying to swallow the discomfort of getting caught between Rosetti tempers.
“Perhaps I should give you a moment?” he says, trying to ease away from the storm brewing in front of him.
“Stay,” I say, cutting him off, wanting him to see every inch of this.
Now that he’s seen the beginning, I need Hector to witness how I end family disagreements. Raffaele starts pacing like an animal caught in a trap. He knows how this ends, and he still hasn’t figured out a way to win.
“This is stupid, Dom,” Raffaele mutters, but there’s a crack in his voice.
I lean back, pulling Besiana with me, showing him how unfazed I am.
“Remember what happened to Vincent the last time he didn’t listen to me?” I ask, letting the words hit him where it hurts.
I can see the strike land, the way his eyes flare before the anger in him dims. That’s the thing about Raffaele—he’s reckless but not stupid. He knows what I would do, what I will do if he doesn’t play by my rules.
His heated glare flicks to Hector, and I see hesitation freeze him for a second. He wants to fight, but he knows he’s already lost this round. He storms out instead, the slam of the door trailing him like a final accusation. It makes Hector jump out of his skin.
As Raffaele storms out, he looks like he’s about to tear the club apart.
I can picture the path he cuts through Il Lusso, shoving his way through a maze of dealers and high-rollers, through the crowd of gilt-edged billionaires and gangsters, past the women who hand out drinks, bursting out into the cold November night.
Back inside, I let the silence stretch, let Hector stew in it.
I can tell he’s processing every detail of what just went down, thinking about how fast the news will spread from here to every corner of the city.
It’s exactly what I want. Raffaele is gone, and Hector is left knowing exactly where he stands.
No one challenges Domenico Rosetti without regret.
I savor the look on Hector’s face. He tries to play it cool, but there's tension hiding behind his slick smile. I see the story forming in his mind, the one he’ll tell everyone with a stake in this business.
I need him to do just that, to let the whole city know that the Rosettis are still untouchable, that I’m still at the helm.
He smooths his designer jacket and jumps on the opportunity to refocus on the deal.
“So,” Hector says, smoothing his designer jacket. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes,” I say. “And Hector? This stays high-class. No backdoor dealings.”
“Of course, Domenico. Only the best for you.” Hector makes his way out, leaving us alone in the now-quiet room.
Besiana turns to me, those pale green eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes me take a breath. I can tell she’s been waiting to ask, waiting for the perfect moment to catch me off guard with her soft voice but razor-sharp words.
“Did you bring me here to keep an eye on me, or so I’d keep one on you?”
Her question hangs in the air, a challenge wrapped in silk. There’s something in the way she leans toward me, waiting for my reply, that makes me think she knows the answer already. Trust is a currency we’re still figuring out how to spend.
She tilts her head, watching me with a playful curiosity. “Which is it, Domenico?”
It’s a game she’s good at, making me say things I never intended to, forcing me to bring my feelings to the surface even when I want to keep them buried deep.
“Both,” I admit, my voice low and unguarded.
She doesn’t know how dangerous it is, how far I’ll go to keep her this close, no matter what I have to do.
I shift, making sure there’s no space between us, feeling her warmth against me.
It’s an obsession, one I don’t bother to hide.
She’s got to know that by now, got to see how she’s wrapped around my mind.
This woman could ruin me, and I’d probably let her.
She smiles, a quick, sharp thing, then looks away, tracing her finger over the diamond bracelet she bought with Carmela. “Am I your possession or your partner, Domenico?”
“You tell me.”
I touch her wrist, holding it still. It feels like I’m trying to hold onto water.
“I’m whatever you want me to be,” she says, but there’s challenge beneath the words.
There always is.
And that’s the problem. I can’t figure her out. Can’t tell if she’s trying to please me or playing me. She’s the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met because she’s the only one I haven’t been able to break.
“I won’t let you out of my sight, Besiana,” I say, my voice low.
“Afraid I’ll run?”
Her voice is soft, a perfect echo of my own. She lifts her wrist, tinkling the diamond bracelet.
“I’m afraid I’ll catch up to you and won’t know what to do next,” I say, letting my hand fall back to my side.
For a moment, we just sit, and I watch her in the dim light. The noise from the club below is muffled here, making the room feel like a different world, a different life.
I’m so used to getting everything I want, everything I fight for. It’s how it’s always been. But Besiana is still a mystery. I can’t tell if she’s obedient because she loves me or because she plans to gut me the moment my back is turned. It makes me want her even more.
She looks at me again, that same quick, calculating glance, and the ground shifts beneath me. I’m used to power. Used to control. But Besiana makes me wonder if, this time, I’m the one being outmaneuvered. She’s made me obsessed, made me want to unravel her until I know exactly what’s at the core.
Until then, I’ll keep her where I can see her until she either betrays me or loves me.