Chapter 27 Carmela
CARMELA
The light from Silvo’s desk lamp casts long shadows across the scattered papers as I dig deeper into the Moretti files. Isabella left an hour ago to get some sleep, but I can’t stop now. There’s something here—something beyond the business rivalry and territory disputes.
I pull open another drawer and find a weathered leather portfolio tied with a string. Inside, yellowed newspaper clippings and photographs spill onto the desk. One black and white photo catches my eye—two young men in suits, arms around each other’s shoulders, grinning at the camera.
I flip it over. Written in faded ink.
Salvatore De Luca & Vincenzo Moretti, 1952.
“Grandfathers,” I whisper, tracing their faces. They look like brothers, not enemies.
The next photo shows the same two men with a striking woman between them. Her eyes—sharp, intelligent—remind me of Silvo’s. On the back:
Salvatore, Maria, & Vincenzo.
I spread out more documents, piecing together fragments of history. Letters between Salvatore and Vincenzo hint at a deep friendship turned bitter. Court records show business partnerships dissolved in acrimony. But it’s a water-damaged diary page that makes my breath catch.
May 15, 1953: Maria chose Salvatore today. Vincenzo will never forgive this betrayal. Blood has been spilled. There can be no reconciliation.
“Holy shit.” I slump back in the chair.
This wasn’t just business. This was love and betrayal—the most primal of wounds. Maria chose Salvatore De Luca over Vincenzo Moretti, and decades later, their grandchildren are still killing each other.
I find a wedding announcement: Salvatore and Maria De Luca. The bride’s full name stops my heart: Maria Rossetti Moretti.
“She was already married to him,” I breathe, the pieces clicking into place. “She left Vincenzo for Salvatore.”
I trace a family tree penciled on thick parchment. Salvatore and Maria had Antonio, who had Silvo. Vincenzo Moretti remarried and had a son, who fathered Nico Moretti.
This isn’t about territory or profit margins. This is about vengeance, spanning three generations.
I’m still digesting this revelation when my phone vibrates on the desk. Silvo’s name flashes on the screen.
“Hey,” I answer, trying to sound casual despite the late hour and my racing thoughts.
“What are you still doing up?” His voice is rough, tired, but warm. “It’s almost three in the morning there.”
“I could ask you the same thing.” I glance at the scattered papers, photos, and clippings. “How’s Miami?”
“Wrapping up. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon.”
I take a deep breath, eyes still fixed on the weathered photos and yellowed papers spread across Silvo’s desk.
“Silvo, I found something. About why the Morettis hate us so much.”
He pauses before answering. “Tell me.”
“It’s not just about territory or business. It’s personal. It’s about a woman.” I trace the edge of the old photograph with my fingertip. “Your great-grandfather, Salvatore, and Vincenzo Moretti were best friends. Like brothers. There are photos of them together, laughing, arms around each other.”
“That can’t be right,” Silvo says, his voice tight with disbelief.
“It is. And there was a woman, Maria. She was married to Vincenzo Moretti, but she left him for your grandfather.” I shuffle through the papers. “I found a diary entry that says ‘Maria chose Salvatore today. Vincenzo will never forgive this betrayal. Blood has been spilled.’”
The line goes silent for so long that I think we’ve been disconnected.
“Silvo?”
“I’m here.” His voice is rough. “Are you sure about this?”
“Her full name was Maria Rossetti Moretti. She left Vincenzo for Salvatore. Three generations later, we’re still paying for it.
” I push my hair back from my face. “This doesn’t feel like a business rivalry, Silvo.
This is a blood vendetta. The Morettis believe your family stole something precious from them. ”
“So all of this—the attacks, the threats—it’s revenge for something that happened over seventy years ago?”
“Old wounds run deep in families like ours.” I look down at the wedding announcement in my hand. “And now I’m a De Luca too. Just another target in their revenge fantasy.”
“I’ll protect you, Carmela. Always.” Silvo’s voice deepens with conviction. “No one will touch what’s mine.”
Heat flares through me at his possessiveness. When did I start craving his protection instead of resenting it?
“I know.” I gather the documents, carefully returning them to the portfolio. “I just wish you were here.”
“Do you miss me, wife?” There’s a smile in his voice.
“Don’t let it go to your head.” But my body aches for him, the emptiness of our bed these past nights a constant reminder of his absence.
“Because I miss you,” he continues, his voice dropping lower. “I think about you every fucking minute I’m away.”
My breath catches. “Silvo...”
“Show me.” His tone shifts, commanding now. “Get on video. I want to see you.”
I hesitate, glancing at the office door. “I’m still in your office.”
“Then go to our bedroom. Now.”
The authority in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. I gather my phone and hurry down the darkened hallway to our suite.
Once inside, I lock the door and switch to video. Silvo’s face appears on screen, tired but hungry, his jawline dark with stubble.
“There you are,” he says, eyes devouring me. “Take off your clothes.”
“Demanding even from Miami,” I tease, but my fingers are already working the buttons of my blouse.
“You love it.” His voice grows rough as I reveal my lace bra. “Keep going.”
I slip the blouse from my shoulders, then stand to shimmy out of my pants. His eyes darken as I stand before him in just my underwear.
“Everything,” he commands.
I unhook my bra slowly, letting it fall away. His sharp intake of breath makes me bold. I hook my thumbs in my panties and slide them down my legs.
“Beautiful,” he growls. “Touch yourself for me. Show me how wet you are.”
I lie back on our bed, propping the phone where he can see me. My hand slides between my thighs, finding the slick heat there.
“I am wet,” I admit, circling my fingers. “I’ve been wet since I heard your voice.”
“That’s it,” Silvo says, his breathing growing heavier. “Play with your cunt. Make yourself feel good while I watch.”
“This isn’t fair,” I breathe, my fingers working between my thighs. “I want to see you too.”
Silvo’s eyes darken on screen. “You want to see my cock, amore?”
“Yes,” I admit, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Show me what I’m missing.”
He growls low in his throat and shifts position. The camera angle changes as he props his phone somewhere, then leans back. I watch, mesmerized, as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. When he pulls his thick, hard cock free and wraps his hand around it, a moan escapes my lips.
“Fuck, Silvo.”
“This is what you do to me,” he says, stroking himself slowly. “Hard as steel thinking about your tight pussy.”
I spread my legs wider, giving him a better view. “I wish it were you touching me instead of my fingers.”
“Tell me how wet you are,” he demands, his hand moving faster.
“Soaking,” I whimper, circling my clit. “I’m dripping down my thighs thinking about your cock inside me.”
“That’s it, bella. Show me how you play with your cunt when I’m not there to fill it.”
I slide two fingers inside myself, gasping at the sensation. “God, Silvo, I need you.”
“You’ll have me tomorrow,” he promises, his rhythm increasing. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”
“Yes,” I moan, rocking against my hand. “I want your cum inside me. I want you to mark me.”
“You’re mine,” he growls, his muscled abs tensing as he strokes himself harder. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, my body tightening as pleasure builds. “Only yours, Silvo.”
“Touch your tits,” he commands. “Pinch your nipples like I would.”
I follow his command, cupping my breasts and pinching my nipples between my fingers. The sharp pleasure makes me arch off the bed.
“That’s my girl,” Silvo growls, his hand moving faster on his cock. “Show me how close you are.”
My fingers circle my clit faster as I watch him stroke himself on screen. The sight of his powerful body, tense with need, drives me wild. I slide two fingers deep inside, wishing it were him filling me instead.
“I’m close,” I pant, my hips bucking against my hand. “Silvo, I’m so close.”
“Wait for me,” he commands, his jaw clenched and muscles taut. “We come together.”
I whimper, trembling on the edge. “Hurry, please. I can’t—”
“Look at me,” he demands. “Keep your eyes on me.”
Our gazes lock through the screen, the connection electric despite the miles between us. His rhythm becomes erratic, his breathing harsh.
“Now, Carmela. Come for me now.”
The orgasm crashes through me, my back arching off the bed as I cry out his name. Through half-lidded eyes, I watch Silvo’s release, his powerful body shuddering as white ropes of cum paint his stomach.
“Fuck,” he groans, stroking himself through the aftershocks. “That should’ve been inside you.”
I’m still trembling when he speaks again, his voice raw with promise.
“Tomorrow night, I’m breeding you properly,” he vows, eyes dark with possession. “All fucking night long, Carmela.”
My breath catches at the hunger in his voice.
“We’re locking the door,” he continues, “and forgetting about this war, about everything except each other. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk, until neither of us can move anymore.”
I press my thighs together, aftershocks of pleasure pulsing through me at his words.
“Promise?” I whisper.
“Count on it,” he growls. “Be ready for me, wife.”