The Lipstick That Broke My Mafia Boss

I had loved Damian Moretti from a distance for two years.

He was my boss, the untouchable heir to one of New York's most dangerous families, and the kind of man no woman should want unless she was ready to be ruined.

Then he handed me a lipstick.

At first, I thought it was just a gift.

Until I touched it, and Damian Moretti, the coldest man in the room, almost came apart in front of everyone.

That was when I learned his secret.

The lipstick was bound to him.

Every touch, every twist, every swipe of color, he felt it.

He had not given me a present.

He had handed me power over him.

And when the office started whispering, when another woman tried to claim what was mine, Damian finally showed everyone the truth.

The ruthless Moretti heir only knelt for one woman.

Me.

I had been in love with Damian Moretti for two full years.

I knew how pathetic that sounded. Falling for your boss was already a bad idea. Falling for a man like Damian was practically a warning label in human form.

He was the heir to the Moretti family, the CEO of Moretti Holdings, and the kind of man Upper East Side socialites watched the way people watched a loaded gun: with fear, curiosity, and terrible judgment.

The Moretti name came with rumors. Private docks. Black Bentleys. Men in dark suits who appeared before trouble and disappeared before police did. None of that had anything to do with me.

To me, Damian was the man in the top-floor office who wore black suits like armor, spoke in clipped sentences, and made grown executives sweat with one quiet look.

With everyone else, he was brutal.

With me, the blade always seemed to stop short.

I started at Moretti Holdings as an assistant trainee. In my first month, I sent legal the wrong merger attachment, and the entire support team watched me walk into Damian's office like I was marching to my funeral.

I thought I was finished.

Instead, Damian closed the folder and asked whether I was adjusting to the pace upstairs, whether I had eaten lunch, and whether someone had dumped the worst client schedules on me because I was new.

He never mentioned the mistake.

When I came out, everyone stared. I lowered my head and pretended I had just been torn apart.

I was not naive. Special treatment in an office was the fastest way to make enemies.

After that, I worked twice as hard. If people called me lucky, I answered with results. Every late night, every impossible calendar, every client file I cleaned up before anyone noticed carried the same secret reason.

I wanted Damian to see me.

Not just Nora Vale, the polite little assistant who remembered his coffee order and never pushed back.

Me.

Moretti Holdings had just closed a major port logistics deal, and everyone who worked on it received a bonus check. Damian handed them out