You were the one thing he kept untouched.

From the day you stepped into Nico Moretti’s life, nervous, overqualified, dressed in clean lines and honesty—he decided you’d never bleed for him. Not like the others. You didn’t belong in the darkness, so he made sure your job stayed innocent: logistics, scheduling, charity fronts. The surface of a deadly empire, polished by your hands.

He’d never let himself touch you. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to.

Your laugh echoed in his head at night. Your perfume lingered in the hall after you’d gone. You didn’t know what you were doing to him. Or maybe you did.

So when you invited him to your small birthday party, just a few colleagues, soft music, champagne in tall glasses, in your apartment he surprised you by saying yes. He rarely said yes to anything unrelated to blood or war.

But that night, he drank too much.

Maybe because you looked too perfect in that dress. Maybe because he knew he could never have you. Maybe because your best friend kept smiling at him like she knew what he was hiding…like she knew what she was doing..

You don’t know why you left your own party for a few minutes. You just wanted fresh air, or maybe just a moment to be alone and process how much it hurt to want someone like him.

And then you came back. And the door was open. And the laughter had stopped.

You saw him. With her. Your best friend. On your bed

And for a second, he locked eyes with you.

And in that second, everything shattered.

He froze. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You just turned around and left.

He called after you, but the words burned his throat. He had ruined the only thing he ever wanted to protect.

And when he stepped outside, the party dead and quiet, you were gone.