Ruined by the Enemy (Moretti Bratva #1)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

S ophie

It’s hard to believe he’s the son of the man who killed my parents.

“ How may I help you?” The scowl on his mouth is unwelcoming, and his fingers tap the desk impatiently as if he’s in a hurry to be done with me.

Scratch that.

From the cold look on his face to his eyes that are darker than any I’ve ever seen, well-chiseled jaw framing downturned lips, Domenico Moretti looks like the kind of man who would take a knife to another man’s throat without a shred of remorse.

His laid-back yet alert demeanor only makes it worse. If I were someone else, I might’ve lost my confidence the second I stepped into his office and breathed in the chilly air.

Unfortunately, I’m not here to call him out on his behavior.

Not yet.

“Sophie Greco,” I say with a polite smile as I step towards him with my hand outstretched, ignoring his brusque attitude. “I spoke with the head of More Media, Mr. D’Amico. He said he’s discussed it with you? I apologize if that’s not the case.”

“Raffaele?” He ignores the handshake and frowns even harder.

Then he leans back, observing me with eyes that slowly move from my hair neatly slicked back to a bun, to the muted blazer and even duller dress pants.

It’s with mild disinterest, but the way that his eyes linger when they lift back to my face sends an unexpected flush down my throat. His gaze dips to my mouth, and his eyes darken briefly, sending another flush of heat down my spine.

I inhale sharply without realizing it and clear my throat hastily to cover it up. What’s wrong with me?

I did my research before reaching out—Domenico Moretti. Thirty-one. CEO of Moretti Group and prime billionaire bachelor. Also, one of the sexiest men in the last five years, according to GQ.

The last part wasn’t needed, but the articles that referenced everything else about him apparently needed to make sure readers were aware.

“Yes,” I nod briskly. I sent him a document for Blackwater Talent.” His brow arches subtly, but it’s enough to show his curiosity. I reach into my bag for the same document, placing it on his desk. “I know your company has been trying to acquire it for a year, and I can make that possible.”

Domenico tilts his head as he folds his arms, and I’m immediately drawn to the way the soft fabric of his shirt clings to his upper arms. His shoulders stretch wide and firm.

Maybe they weren’t lying. He is… nope. I shake my head briskly, pushing the thought aside. “Would you like me to go on?”

There’s a long silence; then he points to the empty leather chair. “You can sit.”

I do.

“Blackwater Talent,” he repeats. “It’s public knowledge that we’ve made several offers to them over the past couple of months, and they’ve rejected each time. What could you possibly try that we haven’t?”

My mouth curves into a knowing, secret smile. “I think the better question would be, can I help you get what you want?”

His chuckle is dry, but the sound it makes as it rumbles through his chest stops my train of thought for a long second. “No, Miss Greco. I think the question is—what do you want in return?”

The articles did call him brilliant.

It doesn’t impress me, though. If he were any less talented, the stakes wouldn’t be this high. “Why don’t you take a look at my proposal? You be the judge of whether I’m useful or not.”

He studies me even longer, his long, thick lashes gently flickering as his eyes stay fixed on mine, almost pinning me to the chair. A lump gathers in my throat, throwing me off course a little, but I force the smile to remain on my face.

He thinks I’ll back down after a while. No chance in hell.

The longer Domenico Moretti stares at me, though, the smaller the room gets and the heavier the air around us. At some point, it feels like I’m breathing him in… that smell of ground coffee and subtle hint of mint.

“Sure,” he finally breaks the silence with a noncommittal shrug, picking up the document. He quickly flips through it for a few seconds before settling on a page.

Gotcha.

He peers at me from beneath his lashes. “You’re sure you have the right information?”

I nod. “Yeah. They’ve been manipulating the press with talks of investments, but the company willing to invest in them doesn’t exist. It’s a dead trail, they’re one step away from filing bankruptcy, and they’ve broken several contracts with their artists.”

“Basically, it’s my turn to lean back. “It’s a free-for-all grab. Also,” I tilt my head and purse my lips, “I’m shocked you missed it.” My tone carries a bit of sarcasm that I can’t hide, and it doesn’t go past Domenico unnoticed.

He arches his brow, then drops it. “I see.” There’s a pause on his end before he closes the document. His hand falls on the desk again, and his face is expressionless. “Thank you, Miss Greco.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, but it takes a second to realize I’m being dismissed.

My lips part as an argument starts to form, but I’m quick enough to snuff it. “You’re going to use it, aren’t you?”

“It depends,” he replies coolly.

On what??? I just handed him Blackwater Talent on a plate, and he’s saying it depends? My nails sink into my palm as I curl my fist, and the smile flickers. “You want to run your own research, I get it.”

Pushing the chair back, I stand. “Even if you stumble on the trail for the bankruptcy case, you won’t find any of their signed talents willing to talk to you or someone from your company.

You see,” I sigh dramatically, “billion-dollar companies like yours have a reputation for being explosive. You’ll need someone they can relate to. ”

“You?” His tone is almost… skeptical.

“Yes,” I say without missing a beat. “Me.”

Another long pause. He sure takes his time. “ What do you want then, Miss Greco?”

“A job.” The word catches on my tongue. “I want to work for Moretti Group.”

Domenico sits straight, and his eyes narrow. This time, there’s no curiosity behind them, or indifference either. It’s like he’s trying to see through me.

I feel a bead of sweat grow on my forehead, but it’s not from the anxiety that my plan might fall apart before it even begins.

It’s the way his stare makes me feel… like I’ve been stripped apart. Not naked, necessarily, but bare. It’s the unconscious flicker of my gaze to his mouth, the quiet tapping of his fingers on the desk, and their impressive lengths.

It’s the unwanted thought that floods my head and the warmth that circles my throat.

He’s never had a dating scandal. Over the years, he’s been seen and photographed with several high-profile women at events, but not one public lover.

“You could’ve taken this anywhere else. I’m sure other companies are willing to offer a higher position for information like this,” he drawls as one fingernail drags across wood. “If that’s what you want, then sure.”

Sure, as in yes? Or no?

“You’ll be on probation until we can verify how useful your information is, but for now… welcome to Moretti Group, Miss Greco. I’ll have HR get in touch with you to finalize the rest. You can meet with the other attorneys in the legal department tomorrow.”

I sigh quietly in relief. My nod is brisk and polite. “Thank you, Mr. Moretti.”

“You’re welcome,” he says curtly, then promptly picks up a folder on the edge of the desk. I take that as my cue to leave and stride out of his office, my heels clipping the floor.

As the door to his office closes, I exhale sharply, pressing my hand to my beating chest. I did it. I did it.

My lips spread into a splitting grin as I hurry down the hallway, stepping past the open cubicles of his secretaries, to the enclosed office for other assistants. I press the button for the lobby, my back against the elevator walls as it takes me down.

The doors open with a chime, and I stride through the granite floor, heading towards the revolving exit while reaching into my bag for my phone.

“Miss Greco!”

I halt abruptly, from force of habit rather than anything, and turn to see a familiar face heading my way. Mr. D’Amico. According to my research, Raffaele D’Amico is Domenico Moretti’s best friend, a big-time flirt, and equally brilliant.

“Miss Greco,” his smile widens when he reaches me. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I had certain issues to attend to, and they just spiraled out of control. Did you meet with Dom?”

Dom? Oh. Domenico. “Yes,” I say. “I did.” My lack of enthusiasm must’ve registered as failure, because he scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “He can be hard sometimes, but I promise he’s not the type to dismiss an opportunity. He’s probably reviewing it, and he’ll get back to you. I’ll put in a good word, I promise.”

“Oh no,” I wave my hand. “No need. He offered me the job.”

He’s surprised this time. “He did? That’s… wow. You must’ve left quite the impression.”

My phone begins to ring, saving me from having to continue the conversation. “I have to take this,” I say as I reach for it in my bag.

“No worries. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

My mouth flattens into a thin line as I see the name flashing across my screen while I head out the exit door. Enzo. My steps slow down, and I glance around me, stepping out of earshot before picking up the call.

“Uncle.”

“Sophie.” There are no greetings exchanged. I’ve come to expect it in the sixteen years I’ve known him. “How did it go?”

“Good,” I reply with a quick glance over my shoulder. “He offered me the job. He did say he wanted to do some research, but as long as they stick to the plan, everything should go smoothly.”

It wasn’t easy—getting a bunch of people to create a fake company and trick the owner of Blackwater Talent to sign a deal with them.

But it was worth it.

“Don’t worry,” he says briskly. “I’ll handle that end.

Just know,” he pauses, and the weight of his unspoken words settles heavily on my shoulders.

“Everything relies on you now. If you fail, then the work we’ve been doing for the past sixteen years will have failed.

I don’t have to repeat why this has to work. ”

My jaw clenches. “You don’t.”

“Good.” The call ends.

Revenge. That’s what this is about.

I could’ve gotten a job anywhere else. I had prospects lined up and positions more lucrative than joining the team of other attorneys, lumped with the bunch.

It had to be the Moretti Group. It had to be the head branch. It was the only way I could get close to Domenico Moretti.

The plan is simple: Infiltrate Moretti, find loopholes and weak spots, and make them bigger quietly so Domenico doesn’t notice his ship sinking until he’s completely underwater.

Then drown him. Take back what his father stole from my family.

After all, he’s the son of the man who killed my parents and took everything from me.