Chapter Twenty Nine
Olivia
I kick my door shut with my heel and drop my keys in the dish. I was supposed to go to Roberto’s for dinner, but the knot in my stomach hasn’t loosened since my meeting with Caterina this afternoon.
The situation just won’t stop nagging at me.
It’s the comps. The way she cut me off and told me to stay in my lane. The way those approvals didn’t match the rules we wrote together. The feeling sits low and heavy, like my body already knows something my brain hasn’t quite figured out.
It’s not that I think I need to know everything, but it was the way she did it, dismissive and a bit quick and sharp.
I pull my phone out and type before I can talk myself out of it.
Me: I’m sorry—can’t make dinner tonight. Something came up.
His reply made me feel warm and guilty at the same time.
Roberto: Are you okay?
I stare at it, guilt pinching, and answer.
Me: I’m fine. Long day. Rain check?
He sends back:
Roberto: Yes. Rest. I’ll make this for you next time.
I lock the screen and set the phone face down.
I can’t use my work laptop. If anything I pull up touches a log that Caterina can see, I’ll tip my hand before I even understand what I’m looking at. I grab my personal laptop from the shelf, plug it in at the small table by the window, and flip it open.
While it wakes, I run through the files in my head: three comps that shouldn’t exist, all with her initials. My job is to guard the program, not second-guess the owners. But my job is also to protect The Regent from drift. Both things can be true.
The desktop loads. I connect to my home Wi-Fi and open a fresh browser. I sit there for a beat, hands on the keys, breathing like I’m about to step onto a stage.
Then I type her name into the search engine.
Caterina Conti.
Links fill the screen. The standard stuff hits first: Caterina Conti on LinkedIn—Wharton MBA, same graduation year as me.
A couple of alumni profiles with glossy headshots and bullet points: finance concentration, hospitality internships, volunteer board work.
An old campus article about a case-competition win lists her as team lead.
Below that, a stack of pieces from the last week: local papers, hospitality trades, lifestyle blogs—photo galleries from The Regent’s grand opening. Ribbon cutting, speeches, donor shout-outs.
Shots of the lobby full and bright, the casino floor humming, the mezzanine set perfectly. Approved quotes on jobs and tourism, a pull-quote from Caterina about partnerships and community spend.
I can’t help it—I feel a surge of pride. We built this. The plan worked. People had a good time and went home talking about it.
I back out of the articles to the results page and keep scrolling.
I get to the bottom of the screen and am about to just exit when a thought hits me.
I go back up to the top and type in another name.
Roberto Conti.
Results populate fast. A lot of similar ones: LinkedIn first—General Counsel, Conti Enterprises; J.D. from Northwestern; undergrad at Loyola. Below that, the state bar directory: active status, and a bunch of other terms I don’t understand, like ‘white shoe firm’.
News clippings follow. Several this week from The Regent’s opening: quotes about jobs, compliance, community partnerships. Older pieces mention him as counsel on acquisitions for Conti Enterprises—permits, zoning, entertainment licenses.
A legal trade write-up has him on a roundtable about anti-money-laundering controls in hospitality. I click and skim: policy frameworks, source-of-funds verification, transaction monitoring.
Charity photos pop up next. Hospital foundation gala, a youth arts fundraiser, a scholarship dinner. He’s in a tux, expression composed, a beautiful woman standing next to him. No personal social media. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I sit back and sigh. What am I doing? What did I think I was going to get out of this?
Just as I’m about to exit and give up—maybe it’s not too late to head over to his house—something catches my eye.
A local piece sits halfway down the page from a while back. The headline makes my pulse kick up.
Conti Attorney Secures Early Release for Brother in Landmark Plea Review
I click.
The article opens with a courtroom photo—Luca Conti in a dark suit at counsel table, jaw set; beside him, his attorney: Roberto.
The caption names them both. The story runs through the basics: federal charges years earlier, a sentence that drew headlines, and then a successful motion package arguing flaws in how the plea and sentencing were handled.
The judge granted relief, cutting the remaining time. Luca walked out years earlier than he would have given his original sentence, released under strict conditions, then full release after compliance benchmarks were met.
Roberto’s brother was in prison?
I continue reading. Halfway down, a paragraph stops me:
“Assistant U.S. Attorney Elena Pennino led the team that opposed the motion before she departed the office.”
Elena Pennino.
Can’t be…
I quickly open a new tab and type in: Elena Pennino.
No. It can’t—
“Former federal prosecutor joins private firm,” I murmur out loud. “Pennino named pro bono chair.”
There’s a link about Elena Pennino getting married. I click on it and see a picture of Luca and Elena walking out of a church, hand-in-hand, smiling.
I start skimming the article:
Elena Pennino, then an Assistant U.S. Attorney, opposed the plea-review motion and, after the ruling, stated on the record that her office would seek immediate revocation of release and a return to prison upon any breach of conditions.
Prosecutors at the time described Luca Conti as a reputed mobster tied to an organized-crime network, citing prior filings and investigative summaries. Pennino later disconnected from the case when she left the office, but her filings urged strict monitoring and swift enforcement.
Luca Conti, purported Don of the Conti crime family—
I suck in a harsh breath, my heart doubling in speed.
Conti crime family? What the hell does that mean?
I start yet another search, and this time I type: Luca Conti.
That’s when I hit the motherload.
Pages stack quickly.
The top hits are a swirl: local crime desk timelines, think pieces, a couple of long Reddit threads I skip, then older newspaper archives with paywalls.
I open what I can. “Conti Enterprises expands logistics footprint.” “Police name ‘reputed’ crime figure in sweeping OC crackdown—no charges filed.”
A photo of Luca exiting a courthouse, head down, Roberto a step behind him, hand on his shoulder. A sidebar lists relatives: brothers—Giovanni, Antonio, Roberto; sons—Nico, Vito; daughters—Caterina and, not pictured, Lucia Conti.
I click a deeper profile. It lays it all out: Luca charged on federal counts tied to a broader racketeering probe, plea, years inside, then the plea-review fight that knocked time off. No conviction for “organized crime” as such, but the articles don’t let the label go.
“Reputed” or “purported” sits in half the headlines. There’s a chart of “associates” pulled from prior indictments and investigations—most with outcomes that stop short of proof. Still, the pattern is there, threaded through a decade of coverage.
A trade journal piece catches my eye: “From controversy to commerce: Conti Enterprises pursues hospitality.”
The dates line up with The Regent’s license timeline.
Quotes from city officials about due diligence, remarks from the New Jersey Casino Control Commission that granted Roberto, not Luca, a gaming license for The Regent, commenting that there is no indication that Roberto is involved in anything other than legitimate business activities.
A short clip of Roberto at a podium: all compliance, oversight, community benefit, in his lawyerly way. I can hear him in my head saying the same words to donors last week.
I sit back, my stomach roiling. Caterina’s comps. The push to keep me out of owner-level approvals. The way people looked at Luca on the mezzanine—like awe and wariness in the same breath.
And the way people looked at Roberto in the same way.
The slight roiling in my stomach turns to a full boil, and I have to fight the wave of dizziness.
I tell myself I’m being unfair. People get second chances. Families build things. Not every headline tells the whole story. But the knot that sent me home instead of to Roberto’s kitchen hasn’t eased.
It tightens.
The Contis aren’t just a reputable family in New Jersey.
They’re mafia.
Roberto is a mob attorney.
Caterina’s the daughter of a mafia don.
And the casino… is a money laundering operation.
The sickness hits me fast, and I bolt to the bathroom.
I make it to the bathroom in time, drop to my knees, and grab the rim. The first heave tears through me. Bitter, sour—nothing graceful about it. My eyes water. Another hits, harsher.
When it finally eases, I stay there with my forehead on my forearm, catching breath, counting. I flop back against the cabinet.
I’m working for the mob.
My best friend…
The man I’m sleeping with. The man I… fell in love with.
At the thought, my stomach gives another heave. I breathe through my nose, swallow, and then my body decides it’s not done. I gag, heave myself to the toilet, and empty what’s left.
I flush and sit back on my heels, and reach for toilet paper to wipe my mouth. Hands shaking, I get to the sink, run the tap, rinse, spit, rinse again until the taste is gone. I press a cool washcloth to the back of my neck.
I fill a glass, swish, take a small sip. My stomach knots once, then settles. I look at myself—eyes red, mascara smudged at the corners, throat working like I’m still fighting it. I run the washcloth under cold water and press it over my face until the heat under my skin fades.
The line of thought that brought me in here is still there, waiting. Luca. Roberto. Caterina. Headlines that never quite say it, but say enough. Three comps that shouldn’t exist. Owner initials. “Stay in your lane.” My lane led straight to this.
I breathe, slow and even. I’m not going to fall apart on a bathroom floor. Again. I fold the cloth, set it aside, and take another careful sip of water.
My hands steady a little. I pull my hair into a loose tie to get it off my neck and clean my mouth. Then I go back to the table, to the open laptop and the tabs I left waiting.
I need to know everything I possibly can before tomorrow.