Natalia #2
I stare at him. I wait for the punchline or the arrogant smirk, the indication that this is some twisted intimidation tactic. His expression doesn't change.
"You are out of your mind." I grab the handle of my briefcase. "I am leaving."
"You are exactly what the operation requires," Enzo continues, his voice unbothered by my refusal.
"The social circle we are infiltrating expects a certain type of woman.
They expect an educated, sharp woman who belongs in high-stakes environments.
You already know the legal loopholes of money laundering.
You will know exactly what to look for when we get inside. "
"Hire an actress."
"An actress does not know how to read a fraudulent transit ledger in under sixty seconds."
"Then hire an accountant."
"An accountant will panic when Rourke puts a gun on the table. You will not."
"You don't know me." I stand up, the chair scraping violently backward. My chest heaves. "You read a file. You looked at my debt. You think because I clean up messes for arrogant men in expensive suits, I will just roll over and play pretend for a mobster. You are completely delusional."
Enzo slowly rises from his chair.
The size of the man is a physical threat.
He dwarfs the table, his broad shoulders blocking out the ambient light from the hallway.
The gold watch gleams as he casually slides his left hand into his pocket.
He radiates restrained violence. I know the stories.
I'm aware of what the Costa family does to people who cross them.
But the corporate cynicism in my blood refuses to let me back down.
I stopped trusting men who make demands a long time ago.
"My parents were murdered twenty years ago," Enzo says.
The words are sudden and blunt. "My mother was buried under a false name to protect her grave from being desecrated by the Bellanti family.
My father Carlo was lured to a warehouse, executed, and left in an alley to rot.
I was ten years old. I understood exactly what the silence in my family's house meant before anyone had to explain it to me. "
The dark history hangs in the air between us. The lack of emotion in his delivery makes it infinitely worse. He doesn't ask for sympathy, simply stating the facts of his existence. Everything real must be concealed. Everything soft gets killed.
"I am dismantling their entire financial network," Enzo continues, taking one slow, deliberate step around the edge of the table.
"Jeff is the key to the social circle. I do not leave anything to chance, Natalia.
I calculated every possible candidate in this city.
You are the only one who fits the parameters. "
"I am not a parameter." My voice shakes with fury, not fear.
I step toward him, closing the distance.
My heels put me at eye level with his throat.
"I am a lawyer. I deal in facts. And the fact is, this is a suicide mission dressed up as a society party.
You want me to wear your ring, smile for your enemies, and casually commit corporate espionage in the middle of a mafia war. "
"Yes."
"No."
"I will clear your law school debt entirely. Tonight. The transfer will be complete before you reach your car."
I freeze. Eighty-four thousand dollars. Gone. The crushing weight that keeps me chained to a firm I despise, working for men I loathe, wiped out in a single keystroke.
"I will also purchase the building you currently live in," Enzo adds, his voice slipping from cold logic into something infinitely more dangerous. "You will own the deed. You will never pay rent again. You will never be evicted. You will have total security."
He is doing it again. Finding the exact pressure points and leaning into them. He knows I crave independence. He knows my deepest fear is being financially beholden to the system. He is offering me total freedom, chained to a nightmare.
"A fake engagement," I say slowly, testing the words. The idea leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. "Public appearances and rehearsed cover stories."
"We will be seen together constantly. The Bellantis have eyes everywhere. The deception must be flawless. If they suspect you are a plant, they will kill you."
"And what happens if I accidentally act like a human being instead of a tactical asset? Do I get a performance review?" I cross my arms, the silk of my dress shifting against my skin. "I am impulsive, Enzo. You read the file. I don't follow scripts. I don't take orders well."
"I am aware." He takes another step. The scent of sandalwood and whiskey wraps around me, drowning out the espresso.
He is so close I can see the individual threads of his custom lapel.
"You are unpredictable. You will draw their attention while I operate in the blind spot you create. It's highly effective."
"It is a hostage situation with better catering."
A muscle feathers in his jaw. The first tiny crack in the ice. He does not like my defiance. He expects compliance. He expects his money and his dark reputation to force me into line.
He reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
He pulls out a small, black velvet box.
He places it on the mahogany table between us. The velvet absorbs the light. It sits there, heavy with implication.
"The ring belonged to my mother," Enzo says.
The total lack of emotion in his voice is jarring.
"It is a four-carat emerald-cut diamond, flanked by two baguettes, set in platinum.
It is recognizable. The Bellanti spies will see it and report back that the Costa family's fixer is finally settling down. It provides the exact cover we need."
I stare at the black box. The reality of the situation crashes over me. This is not a hypothetical negotiation—he brought the ring because he already decided I was going to say yes. The sheer arrogance makes my blood boil.
"You think you can just buy my life for a few months." I glare up at him.
"I am compensating you for your specialized skills."
"I don't even know you."
"You know my bank account. You know my family's history. That is sufficient for the parameters of the operation."
"Stop using that word." I snap, jabbing a finger toward his chest. I stop just short of touching the open skin of his collar.
"Parameters. Variables. Assets. I am a woman, not a spreadsheet formula.
If we do this—if I actually agree to this insanity—we do it my way.
No treating me like a soldier. No barking orders at me in public.
If we are supposed to be in love, you have to actually look like you enjoy my presence, which right now seems entirely impossible for you. "
Enzo stares down at my pointed finger. Then he looks at my face.
His cold grey eyes narrow. His focus shifts, turning into something sharper and incredibly possessive that I completely fail to understand.
"Put the ring on," Enzo commands.
"We are still negotiating."
"The negotiation is over. You either have the nerve to step into my world, or you do not." He gestures to the small black box. "Put the ring on, Natalia. Prove your file is accurate."
He is daring me.
He understands how my brain works. He knows I cannot resist a challenge, and that my defensive walls I built against arrogant men demand that I prove I am stronger than them. He weaponized my pride.
My pulse races, a reckless energy flooding my veins. The lawyer in me screams to walk away, to call a cab, to go back to the safe, miserable world of corporate litigation.
But I look at the man standing in front of me. The fixer. The mafia prince who treats everything like a balanced equation.
I want to disrupt his perfect plan.
I reach out. My fingers brush the soft velvet of the box. I flip the lid open.
The diamond catches the sparse overhead light, throwing fractured rainbows across the dark wood of the table. It is massive, antique, and steeped in blood and history.
Enzo goes perfectly, silently still.
I pull the ring from the velvet slit. The platinum is cold against my skin.
I slide it onto my left ring finger. It fits. As if he already knew my measurements.
I hold my hand up, the diamond flashing between us.
"Fine, Enzo," I say, a reckless smile curving my lips. "Let's go steal some ledgers."
End of preview. Preorder Gamble of the Mafia Fixer here.