Valentino Moretti
The club was spinning—not from the lights or the music, but from the drinks I probably shouldn’t have had. I barely registered my friend’s laugh, the mischievous glint in her eyes before she gave me a playful shove. And just like that, I crashed into him. A wall of muscle. A presence so overwhelming it sent a shiver down my spine before I even looked up. My hands pressed against the hard planes of his chest as I steadied myself, my breath hitching. Then I felt it—the weight of his gaze. I lifted my head slowly, meeting piercing green eyes, sharp and unreadable. Valentino Moretti. The most feared man alive. The kind of man women threw themselves at, the kind of man men feared before they even heard his name. Black hair, strong jaw, shoulders so broad he looked like he could carry the world—and probably had. And I had just stumbled into him like a drunken idiot. His hands caught my waist, firm, unyielding. Not gentle—just steady, like he was deciding whether to let me go or claim m
About Valentino Moretti
The club was spinning—not from the lights or the music, but from the drinks I probably shouldn’t have had. I barely registered my friend’s laugh, the mischievous glint in her eyes before she gave me a playful shove. And just like that, I crashed into him. A wall of muscle. A presence so overwhelming it sent a shiver down my spine before I even...Read more