71. Michael
Michael
The door swings open, and the sound cuts through the room. Every head turns, and there she is. Katie stands in the doorway, frozen in place. Her hand still grips the door, her shoulders drawn tight, her eyes wide and locked on me.
There’s a second where she doesn’t react at all. Then it hits her. The realization settling in behind her eyes. The fear that follows right after it.
I still have the gun pressed to Sal’s head.
Marco and Enzo have him pinned to my desk.
His face is turned, jaw clenched, and blood at the corner of his mouth.
The rest of my men stand on either side of the room, watching, and waiting for my next move, but none of that matters.
All I see is her standing there in the doorway as if she doesn’t recognize me.
Adam steps out of line and grabs her by the waist. Katie screams, and just like that, everything shifts. The gun is no longer at Sal’s temple. It’s at Adam’s.
“Put her down,” I say, the barrel of the gun pressed hard against his temple. “Or I put a fucking bullet in your skull.”
Adam lets go quickly, stepping back with both hands up.
“I’m sorry, Boss. I thought she might run. Please, forgive me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I grind out through my teeth.
But I’m not looking at him anymore. I’m looking at her.
“Katie, Doll,” I say, lowering the gun enough to reach for her.
The second I move, she flinches hard like I’ve already hurt her. She stumbles back a step. Her shoulder hits the wall, and her hand comes up like she might block me if I get any closer. Her eyes are wide, glassy, and filling fast. Her chest is rising too quick and too shallow.
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
My throat goes dry.
“Get out,” I say.
No one moves. I can feel them watching and waiting. They’re trying to read what the hell just happened.
“I said fucking get out. Now.”
My voice cracks through the room. This time they move. The tension breaks all at once as the room clears. Marco and Enzo haul Sal up by the arms, dragging him toward the door while he struggles.
“Take him to the warehouse,” I say, my voice dropping again. It’s controlled and deadly. “Do not leave.”
They nod.
Marco pauses long enough to glance toward Katie, still pressed into the corner by the window. Her entire body is pulled in on itself.
“Do you want one of us to stay, Boss?”
I shake my head once. No. No one stays. No one sees this. The moment the door shuts, I turn to her.
“Who the hell are you?”
“It’s just me, Doll,” I say, lifting one hand and setting the gun on the side table. “I’m just Michael. Your Michael.”
I take a step toward her, already watching her face, waiting for something to give, for something familiar to come back.
She recoils.
“No.”
Her voice breaks, and she shakes her head again. Tears are already falling as her arms wrap tight around herself.
“My Michael doesn’t hold guns to people’s heads.”
My jaw tightens, and I suck in a breath that doesn’t do anything to settle what’s building in my chest. She’s looking at me like she’s already made up her mind. As if what she just saw in this room erases everything else.
She’s right. Her Michael doesn’t hold guns to people’s heads.
Her Michael is the one who pulls her into him when she climbs into bed.
He’s the one who listens to her ramble about nothing and still pays attention and reaches for her hand without thinking about it.
I’m the one she laughs with, the one she trusts, and instead, I’m standing here with a gun.
I take another step toward her, slower now, because I don’t know how to fix this, but I know I can’t stand here and do nothing.
“Doll,” I say, my voice lower this time. “You know me.”
“Please let me go,” she says, like I’m holding her hostage. “I want to go home.”
“You are home.” I take another step closer.
She shakes her head. “No. I want to go home home.”
I move closer until there’s barely any space left between us but stop myself before I touch her. My hands stay at my sides, even though every instinct I have is telling me to pull her into me and make this stop.
“Please,” she says, looking up at me.
I’ve never seen her like this. I’ve seen her hurt, seen her grieving, seen her fall apart and still reach for me. This is different.
“Who are you?”
“Can we please sit?” I ask.
“I don’t want to sit. I want you to tell me who the fuck you are,” she says. It doesn’t come out with the same bite she typically has. It’s small and broken.
I stare at her for a second, my jaw tight, my chest pulling in a way I don’t fucking like.
She’s crying. She’s terrified. She’s afraid of me. I drag a hand down my face, exhaling slowly, and forcing everything back into place. I need control.
“Katie—“
She shakes her head hard.
“No. Don’t. Just tell me.”
Fine.
“You really want to know?”
She nods.
“You walked in on a punishment,” I say, my voice even. “Sal’s been lying to me. He put you and me at risk. People under me at risk. It cost a man his life.”
Her face twists, but she doesn’t speak.
“That’s not something I ignore.”
I take a step closer, and she presses harder into the wall.
I stop.
“Amato Operations.” I let out a short breath through my nose. “It’s real. Every contract. Every building. Every shipment you’ve seen on paper.”
Her brows pull together, confusion cutting through the fear for half a second.
“But it’s not only that. It’s also a front.”
I watch as the pieces start to move.
“We move things that don’t get logged,” I continue. “Stolen goods. Art. Anything worth enough that people are willing to kill for it.”
Her breathing turns uneven. She shakes her head as if she can stop it from being real. She can’t.
“The things you’ve seen?” I go on. “That’s the clean side. The part that keeps everything looking legitimate.”
I take another step, slower this time.
“The rest of it.” My jaw tightens. “That’s what actually built this.”
She stares at me, her lips parting, her eyes searching my face like she’s trying to find a crack in it. Something that says I’m exaggerating. Something that says I’m lying.
“You think I’d be able to do any of that without protection?” I ask, my voice low. “Police. Judges. People in government. I don’t operate around them.”
She stares at me.
“They answer to me.”
That’s the one that breaks something. Her hand comes up to her mouth, her back pressing harder into the wall. Her eyes don’t leave mine when she says it.
“Mafia.” It’s barely above a whisper.
“Yes.”
Her breath catches. I take one more step, stopping short of her again. I’m close enough that I can see every tear as they fall.
“I’m in charge.”
She shakes her head.
“No,” she breathes. “No, you’re not—“
“I am.”
She flinches, and I swallow. A nerve ticks in my cheek before I force the rest out.
“But don’t stand there and tell me I’m not your Michael either,” I say. “Because I am.”
Her eyes snap back to mine.
“I’m the one who sits there and listens to you talk about your day like it’s the most important thing in the world.
I’m the one who fixes your car, who makes sure you get home safe, who holds you when you wake up in the middle of the night.
Who kisses you senseless. Who carries you up the steps, just so you don’t have to walk. ”
My voice tightens.
“I’m the one who fell for you.”
Her face crumples as the tears spill faster now.
“And I’m also the man you saw in this room,” I finish. “There isn’t a version of me where one of those things doesn’t exist.”
I take another step.
“You don’t get one without the other, Katie.”