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Dominico

Hollie_Camp
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
"His name was enough to bring them to their knees." Dominico Marchetti was born into blood and bred for power. As heir to one of the most feared mafia families in the country, he's earned his reputation through ruthless efficiency and unwavering loyalty. Cold, calculating, and dangerous-he's everything a future Don should be. He lives by one sacred code: family above all else. Until her. Catalina Rossi never wanted this life. But when her father's business needed protection, she became the price of an alliance-engaged to Dominico's charming younger brother, Marco. To the outside world, they're the perfect couple. Behind closed doors, she's living a nightmare. She's trapped, isolated, and running out of time. When Dominico begins to notice the cracks in his brother's perfect facade, everything he's ever believed is thrown into question. The more he sees, the more his carefully controlled world starts to unravel. She's forbidden-his brother's fiancée, untouchable by every rule he's sworn to uphold. But some lines are meant to be crossed. And some rules are meant to be broken. In a world where loyalty is everything and betrayal means death, Dominico must choose between the family that made him and the woman who could destroy it all. But in the shadows of the Marchetti empire, not everyone is who they seem, and the most dangerous enemies are often the ones closest to home. Blood is thicker than water. But what happens when the blood itself is poison? A dark, forbidden mafia romance about power, loyalty, and the devastating choice between duty and desire. When the only way to save her means burning his whole world down, how far will one man go for the woman he was never supposed to want? Some love stories are written in blood.
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1 & Trigger Warning

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING! ⚠️

This book contains graphic violence, physical and emotional abuse, strong language, mature sexual content, murder, and dark themes including domestic violence. This is a dark mafia romance intended for mature audiences (18+). Reader discretion is strongly advised.

==

[DOMINICO Pov]

The blood was still warm on my knuckles when my father called.

I didn't bother washing it off before I answered. In my world, blood was just another part of the job—like signing contracts or attending Mass on Sunday. The man currently bleeding out in the warehouse behind me had made the mistake of thinking our family's patience was infinite.

It wasn't.

"It's done," I said, pressing the phone to my ear with my shoulder while I rolled down my sleeves.

"Good." My father's voice crackled through the line, rough from decades of cigars and shouted orders. "Come home. We have business to discuss."

Business. That could mean anything from a territorial dispute to a wedding. In the Marchetti family, everything was business.

"I'll be there in an hour."

"Make it thirty minutes. And Dominico?" He paused, and I could picture him in his office, fingers steepled beneath his chin like some kind of old-world emperor. "Wear something decent. We have guests."

The line went dead before I could ask who.

I stared at the phone for a moment, then at the man slumped against the wall. Vinny, one of my most trusted soldiers, stood nearby with his arms crossed, waiting for orders.

"Clean this up," I said, straightening my cuffs. "Make sure no one finds anything."

"You got it, boss." Vinny never asked questions. That's why he'd survived this long.

I walked out of the warehouse into the cool October night, my breath forming clouds in the air. The city sprawled before me, lights glittering like scattered diamonds. From here, you couldn't see the rot underneath—the gambling dens, the protection rackets, the bodies that disappeared into the East River. You just saw beauty.

That was the thing about power. It was always prettiest from a distance.

My car was waiting, black and sleek like everything else I owned. I slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, feeling it purr to life beneath my hands. Some men in my position had drivers, bodyguards, a whole entourage. I preferred to be alone. Alone, you didn't have to worry about who might put a bullet in your back.

The drive to the family estate took twenty-five minutes. I'd made it in worse.

The Marchetti compound sat on ten acres in Westchester, far enough from the city to feel like a different world. High walls, security cameras, armed guards at every entrance. My grandfather had built it in the fifties when the family was still clawing its way up from the streets. Now it was a fortress. A kingdom.

And one day, it would all be mine.

The gates opened as I approached, the guards nodding in recognition. I didn't acknowledge them. I never did. Familiarity bred contempt, and contempt bred betrayal.

I parked in the circular driveway, next to my father's Escalade and—I frowned—a silver Mercedes I didn't recognize. Guests. Right.

The front door opened before I could reach it, one of the housekeepers stepping aside with a murmured, "Don Salvatore is in his office, sir."

I nodded and headed down the familiar hallway, my footsteps echoing on marble floors. Family photos lined the walls—my father in his prime, my mother before the cancer took her, me and Marco as children. I didn't look at them. The past was just another country I'd left behind.

Voices drifted from my father's office as I approached. Male voices, speaking Italian. One I recognized as my father. The other...

I knocked once and entered without waiting for permission.

My father sat behind his massive oak desk, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other. Across from him sat a man I recognized—Vincent Rossi, owner of a chain of high-end restaurants we used for... various purposes. Legitimate on paper, useful in practice.

Both men looked up as I entered.

"Dominico." My father's face creased into something that might have been a smile on someone else. On him, it just looked calculating. "Right on time. You know Vincent, of course."

"Mr. Rossi." I nodded, taking in the other man's nervous energy. He was sweating despite the cool air, his hands clasped too tightly in his lap. Whatever this was about, he wasn't happy about it.

"Please, Dominico, sit." My father gestured to the chair next to Rossi.

I sat, keeping my posture relaxed even as my mind worked through possibilities. Rossi had been reliable for years. If he was here, nervous, it meant one of two things: he'd fucked up, or he needed something.

"Vincent has come to us with a proposal," my father continued, swirling his whiskey. "One that I think benefits both our families."

Here it was. The real business.

"His restaurants have been having some... difficulties lately. Competitors trying to muscle in on his territory. Inspectors who suddenly can't be satisfied with their usual arrangements. You know how it goes."

I did. It was a classic play—squeeze a legitimate business until they had no choice but to come to us for protection. The question was whether Rossi had come willingly or been pushed.

"We're prepared to offer our full protection," my father said. "For the right price."

Rossi cleared his throat. "I appreciate the family's generosity, Don Salvatore. But as I explained, my liquid assets are... limited at the moment. The competitors, they've been—"

"Which is why," my father interrupted smoothly, "we've agreed on alternative terms."

Something in his tone made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"Vincent has a daughter. Twenty-five, educated, beautiful by all accounts. She would make an excellent wife for the right man."

No.

I kept my expression neutral, but inside, every alarm was ringing. This was how it worked in the old days—alliances sealed with marriage, daughters traded like property. My father knew I hated it. Knew I'd fought him on it before.

"Marco has agreed," my father said, and I felt something cold settle in my chest. "The engagement will be announced at Sunday's dinner. The wedding in three months."

Marco. Of course it was Marco.

My younger brother, the charming one, the one who smiled for the cameras and played the dutiful son. My father's favorite, even if he'd never admit it out loud.

"Congratulations," I said to Rossi, my voice flat.

The older man looked like he might be sick. "My Catalina, she's a good girl. She understands... she understands duty."

Duty. What a pretty word for a cage.

"Where is Marco?" I asked my father.

"Out celebrating." A hint of amusement in his voice. "You know your brother. Always eager to enjoy life."

Yeah. I knew Marco.

"Is there anything else?" I kept my tone professional, distant.

My father studied me for a long moment, those dark eyes that had watched men die without flinching. "That's all. Vincent, my son will see you out."

It wasn't a request.

I stood, buttoning my jacket. Rossi scrambled to his feet, shaking my father's hand with too much gratitude, too much relief. He thought this was salvation. He had no idea he'd just sold his daughter to the wolves.

I walked him to the door in silence. As we reached the foyer, he stopped, turning to me with something desperate in his eyes.

"Dominico, I—" He swallowed hard. "Your brother, he's a good man, yes? He'll treat her well?"

I could have told him the truth. Could have warned him about Marco's temper, his jealousy, the way he treated women like possessions to be used and discarded. Could have told him that three months from now, his daughter would be trapped in a gilded cage with a man who saw her as nothing more than a trophy.

Instead, I said, "Marco will give her everything she needs."

It wasn't a lie. Not technically. Marco would give her a ring, a last name, a place in this family. He just wouldn't give her freedom, or respect, or any of the things that actually mattered.

Rossi nodded, wanting to believe. "Thank you. Your family, you've been very generous."

I watched him walk to his car, shoulders slumped like a man heading to his own execution. Maybe he knew. Maybe some part of him understood exactly what he'd just done.

The Mercedes pulled away, taillights disappearing into the darkness.

I stood there for a moment, hands in my pockets, staring at nothing. Somewhere in the city, a woman named Catalina Rossi was living her last days of freedom. In three months, she'd be Catalina Marchetti.

She'd be family.

Which meant she'd be untouchable, off-limits, forbidden by every rule I lived by.

I turned and walked back inside, the door closing behind me with a sound like a cell locking shut.

Sunday dinner was in three days. That's when I'd meet her—this woman my brother would marry, this stranger who'd just become part of our world whether she wanted it or not.

I told myself it didn't matter. Told myself she was just another piece in the game, another alliance to strengthen the family.

I told myself a lot of things.

Later, I'd realize they were all lies.