Blood and Roses

A Midnight Rescue

*

Salvatore 'Luca' Moretti stood at the window of his high-rise apartment, staring out at the glittering skyline of the city he ruled. New York twinkled with the light of a thousand stars, the city that never slept. A maze of towering steel and the heartbeat of the East Coast, it was alive with a pulsing feel known only to those who were familiar with its ins and outs.

Salvatore knew every inch of it, every dark corner and secret alleyway, every crooked cop and ambitious politician. He was the prince of this city, the don of its underworld, and he had earned his throne through blood and steel.

Tonight was just another uneventful night. He turned to the blonde beauty who was sprawled over his bed, naked to the bone and with a seductive smile on her red lips. He had picked her up earlier today at his nephew's birthday party, and now he didn't know what to do with her.

"Come back to bed, my prince," she whispered, stroking his ego. That wasn't the only thing she had stroked tonight, but Sal was amused nonetheless. He made his way back to the bed, just as clothed as she was, and he laid down beside her with his head propped up on the headboard.

"Dance for me," he whispered.

The woman straddled him and began to move her hips slowly, her eyes never leaving his as the heat of her body manifested in his own. Her breasts, heaving and full, were right in his face, and he leaned forward and flicked his tongue over a n****e. She giggled as he did that, and she held onto his shoulders to steady herself, her scent wafting all over him.

"Does this please you, my prince?" she whispered.

Sal held her chin and tilted her head down, planting a firm kiss on her lips. She tasted like peaches, and another deep and vibrant taste he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Do you want to please me?" he asked wickedly, one finger travelling down to the slightly hairy crevice between her thighs. His middle finger slid into her quite easily, and Sal felt a deep desire stir in him as she moaned.

"Say it," he whispered when she nodded silently. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," she cried, and he knew that she was gone. His finger slid out of her and he grabbed her by the waist, positioning her right above his erection. He lowered her gently, sliding his length inside her and drawing a sharp intake of breath. She trembled in his arms, and she arched her neck and allowed him to kiss her on the hollow base of her throat.

But then, quite suddenly, Sal realised that he wasn't amused. Something just didn't feel right. And it wasn't anything to do with her. This wasn't the first time he was f*****g her today, nor the second or even the third. But somehow, he was bored already.

And a bored Moretti was a dangerous one.

"Get off," he growled, tossing her aside without warning. Her shocked expression was enough to draw sympathy from any man, but Sal ignored her as he stood up swiftly and walked over to his closet, slipping into a pair of sweats and a clean black t-shirt. He pushed his brown hair back into position with one sweep of his fingers, and made his way out of the apartment.

"Where are you going?" the blonde girl asked as he headed for the door. Sal didn't bother to reply. He couldn't even be bothered to remember her name. Something about her presence just pissed him off, and he needed some fresh air to clear his head, and the dark clouds which were beginning to gather in his mind.

Salvatore walked out of his apartment building and into the cool night air. Vittorio and Dante were waiting downstairs, his two personal soldiers who walked with him everywhere.

"Everything alright, boss?" Dante asked as they stepped out of the building.

"Fine," Salvatore replied. "Everything is just fine."

In truth, Sal had a lot on his mind. The recent mission he had concluded was still weighing heavily on him. It had been a necessary job, one that would benefit the family business in the long run, but the collateral damage had left a sour taste in his mouth. Everyone was talking about it, and he had sensed an air of hostility when he went to his brother's house earlier.

They must have heard of my failure.

He had grown up in the shadow of his father, Carlo Moretti, the legendary mafia boss who had ruled this city with an iron fist for decades. But now, as he looked out at the neon lights and smoggy haze, Salvatore wondered whether it was time for him to step out of his father's shadow and become the true kingpin he was born to be.

As he walked down the dimly lit street, he suddenly heard a commotion coming from an alleyway. He hesitated for a moment as it didn't concern him, but then his instincts kicked in and he turned towards the noise. Two men were attacking a young woman, trying to rob her of her purse. Salvatore could see the fear in her eyes and he knew he had to act fast.

"Boss, let us handle it," Vittorio said, but Sal ignored him. Without thinking, he charged towards the men. They were caught off guard by his sudden appearance and before they could react, he had already delivered a powerful blow to the first man's face. The second man was quick to retaliate, but Salvatore dodged his punches with ease. The two men were no match for him and he quickly incapacitated them.

"Help her up," he ordered Dante, turning to face the man on the ground who was still trembling.

"Is this your idea of how to make some quick cash?" he asked coldly. "Attacking defenceless women and trying to steal from them?"

"F-f**k off!" the man growled, spitting in his face. Sal gritted his teeth in annoyance, and he raised a finger to stop Vittorio who had already lunged at the man.

"You've got a big mouth," he chuckled, pulling out his pocketknife. "Tell me, which do you prefer to keep? Your finger or your tongue?"

The man paled in horror, and he tried to yell for help but Sal immediately punched him in the throat and silenced him.

"Answer me," he whispered, his voice soft as death. "If you can't answer, I'll be forced to take both of them. Or just kill you and be done with it."

The man couldn't say anything as his eyes bulged in terror, but Sal didn't care. He plunged his knife into the man's chest, watching as he squealed in horror. He twisted the knife, relishing the sound of squelching flesh as he shoved him to the ground and watched his shirt slowly get soaked with his own blood.

Salvatore turned to the young woman who was shaking with fear. He saw himself in her eyes, the same fear he had felt when he was young and getting involved in the family business.

"Are you okay?" he asked, crouching in front of her. "Do you need help with anything?"

"I-I'm fine," she replied, dusting her jeans. "I could have handled them, you know."

"Of course you could," he said sarcastically. "A simple 'thank you' would suffice though."

The woman glared at him, and as Salvatore held her gaze, he was suddenly struck by her beauty. Her delicate features were framed by a cascade of raven curls that tumbled down her back. Her eyes were a bright shade of blue, like the sky on a clear summer day, and they sparkled with a fierce determination that belied the fear he could see lurking beneath the surface. Her full lips were parted, as if she was about to say something, but no words came out. Salvatore found himself transfixed, unable to look away.

As she stepped closer to him, he could feel the heat emanating from her body. He realized then that he had been holding his breath and he let it out in a slow exhale. The scent of her perfume, a delicate mix of jasmine and lavender, drifted over to him and he felt a jolt of electricity run through his veins. He couldn't explain why, but he felt a deep connection to this woman, as if they were meant to meet in this exact moment.

Salvatore reached out a hand to touch her cheek, but she flinched away from him, reminding him of the fact that she was just a stranger. He stepped back, just as the other man jumped to his feet and tried to flee.

"Leave him," he told Vittorio and Dante as they tried to give chase, and he watched as the man ran towards the end of the alleyway. In a flash, he pulled out his golden desert eagle with the custom-made silencer and took aim. When he fired, the bullet pierced right through the man's skull, and he dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

"Pathetic," Sal muttered under his breath. "I was aiming for the neck."

As he straightened up, Sal fully expected to find the woman trembling in horror. She had just seen him murder two men after all. What he wasn't ready for, however, was to see her staring at him calmly, a cold and calculating look in her eyes.

Who exactly was this woman? What was her story?

And why in God's name was he suddenly interested in her?

"Vittorio will walk you home," he said, unscrewing the silencer from the gun. "You should be safe now."

"That won't be necessary," she said. "I'm sure I can find my way back on my own."

"And what if you get mugged again?" he asked. "This is a dangerous city, and you don't look like you're from around here."

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly trying to decide whether she should reveal more details about herself or not. Whoever this woman was, she was certainly smart. And as the fear dissipated from her eyes, he noticed a fire and determination slowly creeping back into place.

"I'm aware of the dangers of this city," she said. "But that doesn't mean I can't handle myself. I was just about to pull out my pepper spray when you showed up."

"Pepper spray?" he asked amusedly. "And what if they had guns? What would you have done?"

"In my experience, it's very hard to shoot when you can't see clearly," she said. "Trust me, I'm fine."

Sal knew she was lying. There wasn't any pepper spray in her bag. He had spied the contents of her purse before he took down the first man, and though he didn't want to bring it up, he had seen the gun hidden between her phone and wallet. He wasn't one to question why a pretty woman like her would have a gun in her purse, but it certainly piqued his interest.

"A gentleman wouldn't abandon a lady in the middle of a dangerous alleyway," he said. "Vittorio will walk you home, and that's the end of this discussion."

She almost spoke back; almost. But he could see her resolve breaking, and he knew that she was going to let him walk her home.

"Fine," she said. "It's not really far from here, so I guess there's no harm in it."

As she turned around and walked away, Sal couldn't stop himself from watching her. The way her dark hair shimmered in the dimly-lit streets, the gentle curve of her hips under her coat, all of it drew him in. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't exactly finished with the blonde woman up in his apartment. But desire suddenly flooded his veins, and he couldn't hold himself back.

"Tell me, what's your name?" he asked.

"Bella," she replied over her shoulder. "Isabella Rossi."

Sal almost bit his own tongue in surprise. Rossi? Surely not. It could only be a coincidence. There were hundreds of people with that name in this city. It shouldn't be something surprising.

But then the gun, the fact that she lived nearby, and the fact that he knew Marco Rossi had a daughter about her age.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"A pleasure to meet you," he replied coldly. "The name is Salvatore. Salvatore Moretti."

Her eyes lit up for a brief moment, as if she recognised the name. That only confirmed his suspicion, and Sal felt as if a cold bucket of water had been dunked over his head. The implications of his actions were not lost on him, and he knew that this would come back to haunt him, one way or another.

He had just saved the daughter of the Moretti's biggest rival after all.

*