The Man on the Screen
"Shit!" I cursed as I ran into the house, nearly colliding with Lina who was standing right at the door.
She pulled back with a laugh, adjusting the strap of her black handbag. Her short brown hair brushed against her cheeks, framing a face that always reminded me of Mom… mischievous eyes, playful smile, like she carried a secret everywhere she went.
"Addy, who's chasing you?" she teased, peeking outside as if she might catch someone on my heels.
"You scared me, Lina." I scowled, pressing a hand against my chest.
"Scared you?" She smirked. "You're the one who appeared like a ghost at the door."
"I didn't appear. I opened the door. Big difference."
"Still the same thing." She rolled her eyes, then tapped the screen of her phone to check the time.
"Anyway," she said casually, "I'm heading out."
"At 10:30 p.m.?" My voice came out sharper than I intended. I looked her over… short skirt, open-toe heels, a touch of lip gloss. "You're not dressed like you're heading back to your hostel, Lina. Where exactly are you going?"
She tilted her head, smirk tugging at her lips. "Since when did you become Dad? Last I checked, you're just my brother. Brothers don't manage their sisters' social lives."
"They do when it's this late and dangerous," I shot back. My eyes narrowed as I looked at her outfit again. "At least tell me who you're meeting. A friend? A boyfriend? You're not even legal enough for one."
Her smirk softened into something gentler. She stepped closer, patted my shoulder, and in a mocking sweet voice said, "Don't worry, big brother. I'm not meeting a boyfriend or a serial killer. It's my roommate's birthday party at the hostel. You don't have to get all protective."
I sighed, running a hand down my face. "Lina, I'm serious. Call me if you run into trouble. Alright?"
Her eyes lingered on mine, a flicker of something unspoken in them. For a second she looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she just gave me a quick hug. Her voice softened. "I'll be fine. Don't wait up for me."
And just like that, she was gone, the sound of her heels fading into the night.
The clock on the wall ticked past 10:40.
"Shit!" I muttered again, jolted back to reality. I'd almost forgotten why I rushed home in the first place. I dropped my bag carelessly to the floor and sprinted to the bathroom.
The mirror showed me a tired reflection: messy dark hair, eyes shadowed by years of exhaustion, a man who carried too much weight for his age. I didn't bother studying myself long. In seconds I stripped, stepped under the shower, and let cold water hit my skin. It wasn't even a proper bath… just a rushed rinse, like I was washing away time itself.
I threw on my robe, heart pounding, and hurried to the sitting room. The remote was already in my hand before I'd even sat down. One click, and the TV came alive.
And there he was.
Dominic Moretti.
The screen framed him perfectly… tall, commanding, dressed in a tailored navy suit that hugged his broad shoulders. The crisp white shirt beneath, the gleam of silver cufflinks, the subtle fall of his black hair over his forehead… it all seemed choreographed to steal my breath.
The reporter's voice floated through the speakers:
"We are here this afternoon with Dominic Moretti, CEO of Moretti Enterprises, one of the fastest-growing companies in the city. Thank you for joining us, Mr. Moretti."
Dominic's lips curved into that faint, calculated smile. "The pleasure is mine," he replied, voice smooth, deep, confident.
My heart stuttered. Even after all these years, his voice had the same effect on me. It seeped under my skin, set every nerve on fire, filled the room with something I couldn't escape.
On the table, Lina had left half a bowl of popcorn. I grabbed a handful, anything to distract myself. But my eyes stayed locked on him.
The reporter leaned forward. "Your company has recently launched several projects that have caught public attention. How do you manage to keep expanding despite such fierce competition?"
Dominic adjusted his cufflink with that deliberate grace I'd memorized from countless interviews before. He always did that… it was his habit, his trademark. "Competition doesn't scare me," he said evenly. "If anything, it fuels me. I believe strength lies not just in ambition, but in vision. You can't be afraid to take risks if you want to build something that lasts."
The popcorn in my mouth turned to sand. I swallowed hard, throat dry. His words weren't just words; they were fire wrapped in silk. Every syllable carried weight, power, passion. He spoke like the world belonged to him… and maybe it did.
My eyes traced the clean line of his jaw, the shape of his lips as they moved. God, he wasn't just a man. He was an empire in flesh and bone.
The reporter smiled, pressing further. "Many people describe you as intimidating, even ruthless. What do you say to that?"
Dominic chuckled softly, low and magnetic, and I swore my body shivered at the sound. "I don't live for what others think of me. People will always misunderstand strength. I don't aim to be liked. I aim to be respected."
I felt my chest tighten. That confidence, that unwavering self-belief… it was intoxicating.
I leaned closer to the screen without realizing, my fingers tightening on the popcorn bowl. My body betrayed me long before my mind caught up. A warmth stirred low in my stomach, spreading fast, sharp, relentless.
I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, fighting it. But the more I looked at him… the glint in his eyes when he spoke, the subtle tilt of his head, the rhythm of his voice… the worse it got.
"Stop it," I whispered to myself, dragging a hand down my face.
But my eyes… my eyes betrayed me.
Because even as the popcorn slipped, spilling between my thighs and brushing against my cock, I couldn't tear my gaze away from him.
Dominic Moretti.
The man who had haunted me since I was thirteen.
The man who, even from a screen, could ruin me a
nd ruin you if you aren't ready to scroll.