Never Meant to Share

‎ ‎I was hired to fix his books. I left with his name on my skin.

Elias POV

‎The Moretti building was all glass. I stepped into the elevator

By the time the elevator reached the sixtieth floor, I was already regretting accepting the interview.

People didn't visit Alessio Moretti unless they were invited... or they had a death wish.

"Mr Voss?" The secretary called out not looking up from her screen as I stood up.

I wasn't Mr. Voss. My name was Elias Hart.

‎But being a "fired accountant" wouldn't get you past security, so I borrowed the name on the contract.

‎ One mistake. That was all it took for to lose my job.

‎My mum's hospital bills were piling up. Dad had left us to pay bebts he never lived to repay.

Walking away wasn't an option

‎ So I came here, to fix the books for Alessio Moretti, A man —who didn't hesitate to bury companies that displeased him.

‎I was led to Mr Moretti's office. She rapped her knuckles on the door twice. Sharp.

‎"Mr Moretti, Mr Elias Voss is here for his 3'o clock Interview.“

‎Her voice steady. Not looking at me.

‎She looked down at the floor. One step into the office. Waiting.

‎No response. The silence stretched. Before a baritone voice sounded. "Send him in.“

‎She stepped back. Her eyes never glanced at me as I went in.

‎ ‎I went in and I saw Alessio Moretti.

‎He looked briefly up when I entered. He looked more intimidating in real life.

Black suit. Midnight black hair. A scar cutting through his left eyebrow. And black piercing eyes that looked through you.

‎ ‎ He glanced up from the file on his table. Before leaning backwards on his seat to assess me.

"Elias Voss," he said. Voice deep and low. Like gravel and expensive whiskey. "You're late."

‎ ‎ "I was—"

"I don't care." He slammed a folder across the marble desk."These are the books. Fix them. One week."

‎ I picked it up and opened the folder.

Numbers. Rows of them. They looked normal at first glance.

Not if you knew what to look for.

‎ ‎ Offshore accounts. Shell companies. Blood money scrubbed clean.

‎ My stomach dropped. "I can't—"

‎ "You can,“ he said before he stood up slowly. Each movement calculated. Like a predator deciding where to bite.

‎ "Or you can walk out that door and explain to the police why you were snooping into the Moretti family finances without authorization.

‎ My hands clenched my pants tightly.

‎ "I applied to fix books, not to go to prison," I said

‎ Alessio came slowly around the desk. Stopping right in front of me. Close enough that I could smell his cologne, Ceder and sandalwood which was overwhelming.

‎ "You made a mistake," he said. "And that cost your firm two million. You should be grateful I'm the only one who knows."

‎ My blood ran cold, dread filling my body. He knows.

"How—"

‎ "I know things about you, Elias," he said slowly. His voice dropping lower. "Things that even you don't realize."

‎ He walked towards his desk, pulling out a document from a drawer.

He tossed it on the table. Landing right in front of me. ‎ Confused, I peered down at it.

Employment Agreement. Moretti Holdings.

Indefinite terms. Terms non-recovable by employee.

No salary listed. No end date. My eyes dropped lower.

Residence required.

Termination prohibited without employer approval

‎ My stomach twisted. This wasn't employment. It was ownership.

"This is illegal.“ I glanced up in disbelief.

"You expect me to sign a contract without a salary, end date or exit clause?“

"This is survival," he corrected. "You don't need freedom, Elias.“ His dark eyes met mine. "You need protection.“

"And if I don't sign?"

Alessio had an icy smile on his face. "Then Roman finds out you've been snopping in family business. My brother isn't as..... patient as I am.

‎ Roman De Luca. The other brother. The one people feared even more than Alessio.

My hand picked up the pen beside it gripping it tight. Just then—

"Don't," a deep baritone voice sounded behind me.

I spun startled.

Standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame like he owned the place— was the supposed Roman. His eyes settled on me. Staring at me with a hint of scrutiny, which made me uncomfortable, like he knew exactly who I was. Then it vanished behind a smile. ‎

He looked younger than Alessio. Sharper smile. Same dark eyes as Alessio, but his were amused instead of dead.

He was staring at me like I was prey, his gaze stripping me of every secret I had.

‎ "Brother," Alessio said. No surprise in his voice.

"Still stealing things that don't belong to you?“.

Alessio's expression hardened. "Still living off a surname that isn't yours.“

‎ ‎ "So this is the new accountant," Roman said. His eyes never left me.

‎ Alessio stepped between us. Face dark. Subtle but I saw it.

‎ "He's not a toy," Alessio said. Flat with a deadpan expression.

"You were always bad at sharing." Roman said.

"I don't share what's mine.“ That made Roman laugh, amused.

Then his eyes turned to me. "You don't have to sign that, little accountant. Sign this instead."

‎ He pulled out a contract. Same format. Different name at the top: De Luca Enterprises.

"I pay better," Roman said. "And I don't keep my pets in cages.

Alessio's jaw ticked. "You don't barge into my territory and try to take my things."

Roman chuckled, cocking his head with an eyebrow raised. "Are you sure he's yours?“

The silence between deafening.

Both of them turned to me. Two monsters. One contract each. One me in the middle.‎

The pen felt heavy like it weighed a hundred pounds.

‎ If I signed Alessio's I was his.

And if I signed Roman's I was his also.

But if I don't sign either of them, then I was sure I wasn't going to walk out of here alive.

My hands hovered over the two before it settled on Alessio's contract.

"Smart boy," Alessio muttered low enough for me to hear.

Roman half smiled. "Don't do it. He lies.

Alessio didn't look at his brother. He looked at me.

"Rule one, Elias. I don't lose what I take.“

‎ Roman smile vanished. "Good thing I'm wasn't asking for permission."

‎ The office went silent. Just the sound of my breathing. Fast. Too fast.

I pressed the pen down. The Ink spread beneath the pen. For a second, everything seemed blurred.

Then the doors exploded open. Metals slamming into marble. Three masked men rushed in, guns raised, their movements were too precise to be random.

Silence cracked.

I froze, the pen still touching the paper.

“Drop it,” one of them ordered. Cold. Controlled. Like they already knew the outcome.

Roman didn’t move. Neither did Alessio. That alone felt awfully wrong.

‎ “…These aren’t security,” I whispered.

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