Dom
I tug on my navy cashmere sweater, checking myself in the mirror. I look like a respectable businessman heading to family Thanksgiving.
Not the criminal who took an FBI agent on her dining table two weeks ago.
Fourteen days since I touched Olivia Ricci. Since I tasted her. Since I made her cry out my name while forgetting all about bringing me down.
The silence from her office has been deafening. No warrants. No surveillance I can detect. No Olivia showing up at my businesses with that smirk that both infuriates and arouses me.
The only reason I can come up with is that she recused herself from my case.
The alternative is that she’s laying low while she builds something bigger against me. Both are highly disappointing.
I grab the bottle of expensive bourbon I'm bringing to Elena's.
Luca's back from Italy, and while we've had our differences, he's family.
And family means everything, especially on holidays.
My phone buzzes with a text from Elena: Don't be late or the kids will eat all the appetizers.
I smile. Those kids are the closest thing to children I'll probably ever have. The thought sends my mind straight back to Olivia and how careless we were.
How I didn't use protection, something I've never done before. I’m not against becoming a father, but I don’t want it to happen accidentally from a hookup.
Several women in my life have told me they were on the pill, but I still covered up. I think I’m good enough looking and have a decent personality, but I know for many women, it’s my money that makes me the most attractive.
What better way to get their claws in me than through a pregnancy.
Yet with Olivia, I barely thought twice. And now, two weeks later, all I can think about is wanting to do it again.
“Fuck.” I really need to let her go, but it's useless. She's infiltrated my thoughts more effectively than she ever infiltrated my businesses.
I wake up reaching for her.
I drive past her apartment building just to see if her lights are on. I dream of her.
Not just the sex, but her sharp mind, her unwavering moral code, the way she challenges me.
In my dreams, she's not FBI and I'm not La Corona. We're just a man and woman with no barriers between us.
I shake my head, clearing away the fantasy. That's all it can ever be. Even if she's recused herself, she's still on the other side of the law. Still determined to see me behind bars.
I pocket my keys and head for the door. Today is about family, the most important thing in the world.
Most of the men in La Corona hold the same standard. It’s part of the oath after all.
My father cared more about money and power. Marco’s father wasn’t any better.
But I have all the power and money I need.
Up until last year, I had Elena and her three kids under my protection and felt the weight of it keenly.
But it wasn’t just duty. I love her and the kids. I miss them now that I don’t see them as much.
I wonder if Olivia has ever thought about family, and fuck, I’m back to thinking of her again. This isn't like me. I don't get hung up on women. I certainly don't obsess over federal agents who want to put me in prison.
I slide into my car, tossing the bourbon onto the passenger seat. I pull out of the underground garage, forcing my thoughts toward Elena's house, toward the triplets who'll be running circles around everyone.
Toward family.
Toward the life I've chosen and the responsibilities I bear.
Olivia Ricci has no place in that life. The sooner I accept that, the better.
I pull up to Luca and Elena's home. It’s actually Luca’s father’s place, but since Antonio has retired, Luca is the man of the mansion.
Christmas lights already outline the roof.
Elena never could wait until after Thanksgiving.
The sight hits me with unexpected nostalgia.
For years, Thanksgiving was at my place. Elena would act as hostess.
The kids would make decorations.
We were a bit non-traditional, but we were family.
Now I'm just a guest in her home with her husband and children. What a difference a year makes.
I grab the bourbon and step out into the crisp November air. Before I can reach the door, it flies open.
Adalina’s dark curls bounce as she races down the steps. "Uncle Dom!" She launches herself at me.
I catch her with my free arm, swinging her up onto my hip with practiced ease.
Of course, I’m not her uncle. I’m her second cousin. Or first cousin once removed.
Who the hell knows? I like being called uncle.
"There's my princess," I say, kissing her forehead. "Where are your brothers?"
"Fighting over who gets to sit next to Grandpa," she reports solemnly. "I told them I'm sitting next to you."
Something tightens in my chest. These kids aren't mine, but they’d been mine while Elena was in my care.
Watching Luca step into fatherhood, seeing Elena find happiness after everything she's been through is bittersweet. I miss being at the center, but I know this is how it should be.
I carry her into the warm home. "I’m honored."
I barely make it through the door before Rocco and Elio barrel into me, nearly knocking Adalina from my grip. Their excited chatter blends together as they compete for my attention.
"Uncle Dom, I made a turkey with my hand!"
"No, look at mine first!"
Elena appears in the doorway cradling her two month old baby, a girl named Gianna. "Boys, let Dom breathe. He just got here."
I set Adalina down, handing the bourbon to Elena with a kiss on her cheek. "Happy Thanksgiving."
"You're late," she says, but there's no real bite to it.
Luca emerges, a forced smile on his face as he greets me with a clap on the back. “Happy Thanksgiving, Dom.”
Before I can respond, he glances at Elena. "I need to borrow him for a minute."
Elena's eyes narrow. "Seriously? Dinner's almost ready."
"Five minutes," Luca promises, already steering me toward his office. "Business won't wait, even for turkey."
I follow him, curiosity piqued by the urgency in his voice. Something's wrong.
I’ve spent a lot of time in his office, back when it was his father’s office. Not much has changed. Just the photographs of Elena and the kids on the desk.
"What couldn't wait until after dinner?" I ask, settling into one of the chairs.
Luca remains standing, hands in his pockets. "Agent Ricci is looking into Rocco's kidnapping."
I keep my face neutral, but my heart rate kicks up at the mention of Olivia’s name. "What do you mean?"
"She’s reached out to Elena. Wants to talk about what happened with Rocco last Christmas."
I shake my head, feigning confusion. "That case is cold. Why would she suddenly be interested?"
"You tell me." Luca's eyes bore into mine. "You’re the one who’s supposed to be ‘turning the tables’ on her."
I maintain my composure, years of practice in poker face serving me well. “I haven’t seen anything to suggest she’s doing anything but trying to put me in prison.”
"Elena said she was asking very specific questions. She even asked about Gio." Luca leans against his desk. "She's digging, Dom. And I want to know why now."
“It seems like a good thing that she’s looking for Rocco’s kidnapper.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s never good to have the FBI poking around our families and you know it. She’s going to go looking for Santa. She won’t find him, as you know.”
“It’s not our fault he dropped dead of a heart attack.”
“You know Roman’s theory is that the FBI is behind it.”
I nod.
“All part of their plan to find ways to get into our business.”
I really want a drink. I wish I’d given the bourbon to Luca instead of Elena when I arrived. “But why now? If kidnapping Rocco was an excuse to investigate, why didn’t they do it then. Not only didn’t they do it, they buried it.” Guilt begins to grow that I’ve brought this on Luca.
I’m the one who challenged Olivia and her sense of justice.
“I don’t know. That’s what I was hoping you could tell me.”
Part of me, the part that still tastes her on my lips, wants to believe she's seeking justice.
That night in her apartment, I saw something in her eyes when we talked about Rocco.
Genuine concern. Frustration at the system.
But another part of me knows the FBI playing detective across multiple cases means trouble.
If they're connecting events we've worked hard to keep separate, it won't matter what Olivia's intentions are.
The result will be the same.
Olivia digging into Rocco's kidnapping isn't good for any of us.
"I'll look into it," I promise, already planning my next move.
The memory of that Santa who took Rocco floods back. I wish I’d been there when Luca, Roman, and Marco found him.
He wouldn’t have left that dirty motel room alive and it wouldn’t have been a heart attack that killed him.
Instead, I was looking for Gio. Luca had planted seeds of doubt about the man who’d been loyal to my father.
While I had problems with Gio, I’d never had cause to believe he’d betray the family.
But Gio’s hate for Luca ran deep.
He believed a lie that Luca had my uncle killed. I had no proof that my father was behind my uncle’s death, I was more certain of that than of Luca being behind it.
The problem is both Gio and Santa are dead. To this day, I don’t know who killed Gio or why or even if it’s related to Rocco’s kidnapping.
If it is, and if I’m to buy Roman’s theory that the FBI is manipulating us, I have to wonder if they killed Gio. I accused Olivia of just that.
Santa hadn’t been any help either. His excuse was a man paid him to lure Rocco away from the Winter Festival to save him.
Roman tucked him away for safe keeping and interrogation.
Unfortunately, just as Roman was about to get creative with a pair of pliers, the man started clutching his chest and his eyes rolled back. Gone. Just like that.
I suppose in a court of law, we’d be held responsible for his death, but death hadn’t been the goal. Not yet.
I recall Olivia saying Rocco’s case wasn’t her department, so what is she doing? Is she working on her own, or is this official Bureau business?