52. Chapter 45
Dashiell
Three days later
Even though Lorenzo’s mother apparently doesn’t believe our theory, we agree that we should move forward with the information we’ve learned.
Lorenzo wants to handle the investigation ourselves, but I argue that we need to tell Mila Chaudhary. I have to put my foot down, finally—if he wants me involved in this investigation, then we have to use the official channels whenever we can.
He’s reluctant, but he agrees.
Turns out that getting Lorenzo and Mila in the same room is about as easy as getting Grandma Novak and a vegetarian person to agree on a menu for dinner.
Both parties have opinions, and both parties seem to think that their opinions are actually facts.
I have to spend two days playing diplomat between a mafia underboss/my fake boyfriend and a government arson investigator.
Never thought I’d end up there!
Finally, I manage to talk them both into meeting at Mila’s office, on one condition (hers): Lorenzo comes alone, bringing no bodyguards (or “thugs” as she calls them), and that he doesn’t bring any weapons with him.
Her office is government beige, with windows that have a glorious view of an ugly parking lot. There’s a cork board on one wall with lots of pictures and maps tacked to it. She has two chairs set up facing her desk.
Lorenzo and I drive together. He’s leaned into the full mafia aesthetic: his black hair glossy with pomade, his impeccable suit probably worth more than your average college tuition, his fingers heavy with elegant gold rings.
Choke me with those hands, daddy, my traitorous libido says as we enter Mila’s office.
I’ve been positively feral for him since the first time we fucked a few days ago. Since then, I haven’t spent a day off without getting dicked down at least twice. My asshole might be sore, but I’ve never been more content.
“Dash,” Mila says in greeting when we arrive. “Mr. Diamante.”
“Deputy Fire Marshal.” He extends a hand. Mila looks at it a beat too long before shaking it. The temperature in the room seems to drop a few degrees.
Excellent.
“Please, sit,” she says, gesturing to the stiff vinyl-covered chairs.
We both sit, though Mila stays standing, pouring herself some coffee. She doesn’t offer either of us a cup.
“I want to be direct with you,” she says. “I don’t fully trust you, Mr. Diamante.”
“I respect that, Deputy,” Lorenzo says without missing a beat. “I don’t trust you, either. But I do trust Dash. He asked me to be here. And you can believe me when I say that I want these fires to end as badly as you do.”
“Hm. Do you?” Finally, she sits. “From where I’m looking at it, Mr. Diamante, you have some personal stakes in how this investigation ends.
Your family’s name is all over this shell company I’ve been tracing.
If it turns out that someone inside your organization is responsible, well, for me that’s just a closed case.
For you, that’s the end of your family’s… business empire.”
She says “business empire” like the euphemism it is.
Lorenzo is unfazed. “I am aware.”
“Forgive me for wondering whether you’re here to help my investigation, or to manage it.”
Sensing it’s time for me to jump in and referee this sparring match, I open my mouth to say something to break the tension, but Lorenzo gets there first.
“You’re right to be suspicious of me, Deputy.
I’d be suspicious, too, if I were in your position.
All I can tell you is that the person I believe responsible for this is someone that I have every personal and professional reason to protect.
But I won’t. I’m going to give you what I know.
That should tell you about where my priorities are. ”
Mila crosses her arms and studies him for a long moment. At last, her posture eases slightly. “Fine. What do you know?”
He launches into a concise version of what we’ve discovered. He keeps Carlo’s name out of it, but otherwise he lays the facts out clearly. He even hands her a stack of files—the full record of Saturn properties.
She listens with an impassive face, taking notes without looking down at a legal pad.
When he’s done, she clicks her pen and says, “This lines up with what I’ve found so far.
It doesn’t give me a name I can actually charge, though.
It gives me suspicion, not evidence. I need something that holds up in a real court of law.
” She hums for a second, thinking. “But it’s a good start.
Thank you for getting this.” She says that last part reluctantly, like it hurts her to thank a mobster.
“Happy to help,” Lorenzo says coolly.
She nods curtly. “There’s a lot of pressure on me about this—from upstairs, you know? A serial arsonist targeting mob-adjacent properties is not a story this department wants dragging on for months. You may suspect your brother, and it may be for good reason, but we need something certain. Soon.”
“We’ll get you something,” I promise—though I don’t know how we’ll manage to do that.
“Good. Thank you for this,” she says, and her tone is genuine.
I know a dismissal when I hear one. Lorenzo and I leave, and we’re not even halfway back to his apartment when my phone buzzes.
“It’s Mila,” I say, looking at my screen.
“Already?”
I answer. “Hey, Mila. Did I leave something in your office?”
Her voice is tight and a little bewildered. “You won’t believe this. They just made an arrest.”
I almost drop the phone. “What? Who was it?”
Lorenzo shoots me a look that clearly communicates What’s going on? I hold up a finger—wait—and his eyes darken with impatience.
“Not Giovanni,” Mila says. My stomach clenches at those words.
“Someone else—some guy who works with the Volkov bratva. A low-level operative, it looks like. I don’t know everything.
I just got the call. But sounds like they’ve got everything.
Motive, opportunity, a trail of evidence connecting him to the arsons. ”
“Oh, shit,” I whisper. “Can I put you on speaker? Lorenzo’s here, too, and—”
“Of course.”
I put her on speaker and Mila quickly repeats everything she told me. Then, “Do you guys think there’s any chance we got this wrong?”
Lorenzo grips the steering wheel tightly. “It’s possible,” he admits. “It’s hard for me to be objective here.”
“I’m sure,” Mila says quietly. “Well, officially, I have to close this investigation. Unofficially, I’d recommend you’re still careful. In case we got the wrong man.”
“Of course. Thank you, Deputy,” Lorenzo says.
My hands are shaking when I hang up. I look over at Lorenzo. “So. What do you think? Do you think we were wrong, or do you think they got the wrong man?”
Lorenzo shakes his head slightly. “Maybe I really was wrong. Maybe I was so blinded by my own prejudice against Giovanni that I couldn’t see other clues. Maybe I wanted Giovanni to be guilty.”
We both sit with those words for a moment, pondering the implications.
“You know,” I murmur, “even if Giovanni really did this, if we act like we accept it or believe it, then he might not come after me anymore. I might be safe.”
“True.”
“So, officially, you don’t need to protect me anymore. The case is officially closed.”
I think we both realize it at the same time: the excuse we have for being together is gone, blown away like smoke.
“What do we do now?” I whisper.
Neither of us has an answer for that.