Besiana
I'm tangled up with Dom in the penthouse suite of the Aman Hotel. The room smells of us—raw and new—like the power’s shifted, balanced. For once, I feel it’s my choice to be here. I press closer, feeling his heartbeat match my own, and the words slip out before I can swallow them back.
"I love you."
It's like diving off a cliff and finding I can fly. His smile, the way he pulls me to him, tells me he feels the same.
I let the moment wrap around me, soft as the sheets tangled around our legs.
It's strange and wonderful to feel this way, as if my life isn’t prewritten, as if my choices are my own.
I hold my breath and the words hover between us, heavy with truth.
Dom looks at me with those sharp green eyes that see more than I ever want to show, but right now, I don't care. I want him to see me.
"You say it like it’s a confession," he says, a teasing lilt in his voice.
I smile, letting myself relax into him. "Feels like one."
His hand cups the back of my neck, and he draws me in, kissing me. Everything about this is new and terrifying, but the thrill is in the free fall. He pulls away just enough to speak against my lips. "I love you, too."
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 would just 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?"
Matteo flips a coin, watching me with curiosity. "I hope you’re not afraid of guns," he says, patting his hip.
There’s a beat of silence, and then Rafe uncrosses his arms. "Or how pissed off we are."
"Rafe," Dom warns, and there’s an edge to it.
I know my husband will protect me, even against his own brothers.
I meet Rafe's ice-blue gaze, unflinching. "You should be angry. All of you."
Sal gestures for us to sit, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. I take a seat, my back straight, my resolve firm.
“I’m not going to waste your time,” I say. My voice echoes more than I expect in this glass coffin of a room. “You all know what I did.”
Rafe’s jaw tics. Sal’s eyes narrow, just a hair.
“I was sent here to infiltrate you,” I continue. “And I did. I passed along information to my father. I helped cause the raid that destroyed your warehouse. I undermined your empire.”
Silence.
The kind that isn’t just quiet, it’s heavy.
“But I also chose to stop. I chose to walk away from my father. And when the moment came—”
I lift my chin.
“I pointed a gun at my father. Not at any of you.”
Matteo exhales through his nose.
“I can’t undo what I did,” I say. “But I came to take responsibility for it. You don’t have to like me. You don’t have to trust me.”
I glance around the table, forcing myself to meet each of their eyes.
“But if you’re going to kill me, do it quick. I’d rather die on my feet than rot in guilt.”
For a moment, no one moves.
Then Leo mutters, “Shit,” and drops into a chair like the weight finally hit him. “She’s got more spine than half the people we’ve paid to protect us.”
Rafe straightens off the wall, arms still crossed. His expression hasn’t softened, but he speaks.
“You betrayed us,” he says, calm as a blade. “But you also saved our lives.”
Sal clears his throat. Still regal. Still iron.
“You chose the Rosettis,” he says. “And we don’t forget loyalty.”
A long pause.
“Nor betrayal,” he adds. “But...”
He glances at Dom, then back at me.
“A gun speaks louder than good intentions. And you aimed yours at the right man.”
The tension breaks—just slightly. Enough to let oxygen back into the room.
“So what now?” I ask.
“Now,” Rafe says, stepping closer, “you earn it. Day by day.”
Emilio chimes in without looking up from his phone. “You’re not going anywhere, right? You’re kind of infamous now.”
Leo smirks. “Infamous is our brand.”
Matteo grins. “Besides, we’d be idiots to waste a woman who can shoot like that.”
I almost smile, almost let myself believe I’m forgiven. "In the theater, I wanted to show you I’m loyal."
Sal studies me, his expression unreadable. "Your father would call it betrayal."
"My father," I say, "doesn’t know the meaning of loyalty."
Dom takes my hand, his grip strong, reassuring. "She’s not on his side anymore."
There’s another pause, and I wonder if they hear how fast my heart is racing.
Emilio taps the table. "We owe her."
"And Dushku blood or not," Matteo adds, spinning his coin, "she’s one of us."
Rafe gives a reluctant nod. "Agreed."
Sal looks around the room, then back at me. "Welcome to the family. For real, this time."
I release a breath. They’ve let me in, these men bound by something more powerful than blood. They’ll trust me, and I won’t let them down.
"And Iride?" Rafe asks, the focus shifting. "Is it dead too?"
The room goes silent. This is the question that matters most, and everyone knows it.
"Clara’s dead," Dom says, his voice tight. "So is her work. We’re buying up what we can of ixaphorine, but without the chemist or the records—"
"We have nothing," Matteo finishes, grimacing as he slips the coin back into his pocket.
I’ve waited for this moment, not knowing how they’d react, hoping they’d trust me enough. I reach into my bag and place a thick folder on the table. All eyes go to it.
Rafe snatches it up, flipping it open. "The hell is this?"
"The formula," I say, watching them carefully. "For Iride. Clara gave it to me when I visited the lab."
Emilio leans in, his gaze sharpening. "The real thing?"
"She wanted to make sure that it didn’t die with her. I guess she knew that was a possibility," I say.
"And you wanted to make sure you had the intel," Sal says slowly.
"I didn’t give this to my father," I say, looking around the table, meeting each of their eyes. "I want to build it with you."
There’s a beat, then another. The room seems to hold its breath. It’s everything they need to finish making Iride.
Dom’s grip on my hand tightens, and a smile ghosts his lips. "So?" he says. "Looks like we have a plan. We find another chemist, we rebuild the lab, we take this thing to market."
"Looks like it," Rafe says, still thumbing through the pages. There’s something like respect in his voice now, a grudging acknowledgment that I’m one of them.
"Adrian is smart," Matteo says, "but not smarter than this family."
"And this family," Emilio adds, "is back in business."
I’m part of it now, this crazy, loyal, wonderful family, and I’m ready to prove it every day.
They talk over each other, plans and strategies, ideas bouncing off the walls like echoes of everything I’ve ever wanted to be a part of.
I can almost see the future here, and for once, I’m not afraid of it.
Besiana Rosetti, I think, and the name fits like I never thought it would.