Mafia Don’s Twin Surprise (The Naughty List: Mafia Edition #4)

Chapter 1 Dominic

DOMINIC

I lean back in my leather chair, fingers steepled beneath my chin.

The warrant sits on my desk, delivered by my sexy nemesis, Agent Olivia Ricci.

My day has improved immensely.

"Find everything you need, Agent Ricci?" I ask, watching her direct her team through my office doorway. "Or should I offer you a drink while you tear apart my business?"

She doesn't flinch. Never does. That's what makes our little dance so goddamn entertaining.

"Your cooperation is noted, Mr. Vitale." Her voice carries a professional edge, but I catch the slight curl at the corner of her mouth that tells me she enjoys our encounters as well. "Though hardly necessary."

Her agents move through the outer offices while she stays behind, her tailored suit unable to hide curves that have featured in thoughts I shouldn't admit to having about a federal agent.

I rise from my chair, enjoying the way she stands her ground even as I tower over her. "We both know how this ends. Your team finds nothing, I get to watch you walk away frustrated, and we do it all again next time."

"Confident as always."

"It’s a pattern, Agent Ricci. How many times have we done this now?"

She steps closer, close enough that I catch the scent of her. It’s not fancy perfume like most women I know wear.

No, Agent Ricci is no-fuss. Little makeup. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail. And her scent reminds me of lavender, which tells me it’s likely soap. It’s fucking intoxicating.

"Maybe I just enjoy the view from your office." Her eyes flash with something that isn't entirely professional. "Or perhaps I'm just waiting for you to make a mistake."

I smile. "Well, that would ruin the fun, wouldn't it?"

The tension between us crackles like a live wire. Neither of us willing to break first, both enjoying the game too much to stop playing.

It’s dangerous for us both. Perhaps that’s part of the fun. Truth is, I enjoy this game we play way too much.

My mind floods with images I've conjured countless nights alone. Olivia's professional facade crumbling under my touch, her FBI-issued blazer discarded on my floor.

Her long legs wrapped around my hips as I pump into her. These fantasies have been my only sexual relief for nearly a year.

"Your team will find nothing today, Olivia.” I use her name and push a stray tendril of hair off her face, knowing it’s inappropriate, but do it anyway. She freezes but doesn't stop me.

"But you might find something if you return later... unofficially.” I finish.

Her expression remains professional, but something flickers in her eyes. It’s that flicker that keeps me hooked. Keeps me thinking someday my fantasy will become a reality.

“I’d rather stay home and wash my hair tonight.”

I let out a laugh. “Suit yourself, but you’re wasting your time. Your colleagues are currently discovering what the other teams discovered. I run clean businesses."

Olivia crosses her arms, her badge catching the light. "Overconfidence is a liability in your line of work."

"Not overconfidence. Experience." I watch her, enjoying how her professional mask slips when we're alone. "Three raids this year, Agent Ricci. Zero evidence. At what point does this become harassment?"

An agent that looks barely out of high school steps in and hands her a file. She studies it. I do too, peeking over her shoulder, enjoying feeling the heat radiating from her body.

“Going after our European connections now? The Calabresi family might take that personally,” I say, curious about her interest but again, not worried.

A quick arch of her brow tells me I’m right. This isn’t just about me. The strategy has shifted. Is it her or her boss, Agent Blackwood, changing things up?

I give her a smirk. “You and your team are telegraphing your moves. That’s your liability.”

Olivia's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "We're just being thorough." She hands the folder back to the agent and tells him to return it where he found it.

When he leaves, we’re alone again. “You’re full of it.” I step closer. "What changed?"

“I seem to have hit a sensitive spot, Mr. Vitale.”

“Not yet, you haven’t, but again, if you’d like to come back later—”

“No.”

I shrug and lean against my deck. “It would make this thing between us a whole lot easier.”

She tilts her head to the side like she’s intrigued. “Why would I want to make things easier?”

“Well, you can see I’m interested, and I know you’re interested–”

“Your arrogance is showing.”

“Come on now, Olivia. If you want to spend time with me, we can skip all this,” I gesture to the mess in my office, “and I’ll take you to dinner instead.”

Her eyebrow arches. "Are you asking me on a date, Vitale?"

"I'm proposing a more productive use of our time.

" I hold her gaze, enjoying the flush creeping up her neck.

"Or why keep it to dinner? My place in the Hamptons.

Private chef. Ocean view. No badges, no business.

Just two people who could use a night off from pretending they don't find each other interesting. "

"Interesting?" She laughs, but it's not entirely dismissive. "That's what we're calling it?"

"What would you call it?"

"A conflict of interest." Her eyes drift to my mouth before snapping back up. "Besides, I have better offers waiting for me."

"Do you?" I step closer, lowering my voice. "Better than watching the sunset from my terrace with a glass of hundred-year-old scotch? Better than conversation without an ulterior motive?"

She doesn't back away. "Your entire life is ulterior motives."

"Not all of it." I reach out, fingering a compass pendant she wears, letting my fingers brush along her skin. "Some things are exactly what they appear to be."

The air between us thickens. Her breath hitches. Her gaze moves to my mouth.

For a second, I think she might close that final distance. God, I hope she does.

"Sir?" An agent appears in the doorway, breaking the spell. "We're finished."

Olivia steps back, composure returning. But her eyes tell a different story. One where this conversation isn't over. It’s merely paused.

"Duty calls," she says, but there's regret in her voice that matches the disappointment coursing through me.

"I suppose that's my cue to let you get back to disappointing your superiors." I straighten my tie, enjoying the way her eyes track the movement of my hands. "Though I must say, these visits are becoming the highlight of my calendar."

"Don't get too comfortable, Vitale. Next time, we might find something."

"Next time." I savor the promise in those words. "I'll have a bottle of scotch waiting. Just in case you decide to stay longer."

Olivia pauses at the doorway, the late afternoon light catching her profile. "You're awfully confident for a man who just had his business turned inside out."

"What can I say? I enjoy watching you work." I flash her a smile that's earned me both enemies and allies.

She shakes her head. "Perhaps you could make this easier on all of us by directing us to the right place."

"What would be the fun of that?" It's the closest to a confession she'll get.

I watch her through my doorway as she heads to the elevator with her team in tow.

Her posture is perfect, stride purposeful, and yet sexy as fuck.

She glances toward my office once she’s in the elevator. I give her a wink. She looks down, an amused smile playing at her lips as the door closes.

I already find myself looking forward to our next encounter, wondering what flimsy pretext will bring Agent Ricci back to my door.

Do I think she’s setting these up to see me?

No. I suspect she’s doing her job. But do I think she’d like to fuck me as much as I want to fuck her? Absolutely.

With the morning’s entertainment gone, I get back to work. Legitimate business today. I have a solid mix of above board and not so legal enterprises.

And I’m not at all worried that Agent Ricci or any other law enforcement person will find anything incriminating.

I’m very good at what I do. Much better than my father who was often willing to take risks usually to be an asshole or stroke his ego.

Me? I keep my head down and all the unsavory parts of my life hidden. If someone needs to be gone, they disappear, not gunned down in the street like my father would do.

As the afternoon wears on, my mind drifts to Olivia. I suspect I’m going to have a pleasurable night tonight imagining her naked. Perhaps my fantasy will have her on her knees sucking me off. I like that one a lot.

My phone buzzes, interrupting my dirty thoughts about Agent Ricci. Marco's name flashes on the screen.

"Marco.”

“Did the FBI raid your place today?" No greeting, typical Marco.

His voice carries that perpetual edge of irritation, like everything in life personally offends him.

Except of course his wife and kid.

I still can’t wrap my mind around how that happened.

I lean back in my chair, not looking forward to this conversation. "News travels fast."

"I should have heard it from you."

I want to remind him that he’s not my boss. Of any of us, although he acts like it sometimes.

"We need to talk. All of us. My place, one hour."

That means the other dons, Leo Ferraza and Luca Monti know about Agent Ricci’s visit as well.

The line goes dead before I can respond. I stare at my phone, tempted to throw it across the room.

Marco summoning me like some underling. I respect him a great deal, but sometimes he grates on my nerves.

Fifty minutes later, I pull up to Marco's upper east side residence. Security nods me through with barely a glance, they know my face well enough by now.

I head straight to his meeting room.

The other dons have already arrived, all of them looking up at me like I’m a petulant child.

Marco stands by the window, arms crossed, face hard. He acknowledges me with the barest nod.

"Gentlemen," I say, sliding my hands into my pockets like this is a walk in the park. "Lovely afternoon for a crisis meeting."

No one laughs. Tough crowd.