Olivia
I sink into my pillow, as Dom’s body covers mine again. What am I doing? He’s right. How odd that I’d suspect his father of killing mine and yet here I am, having sex with Dom again.
Maybe it’s because I think the evidence against Dom’s father is weak. It’s circumstantial.
But then again, I’m probably making excuses because there’s something about Dom that I can’t resist. As a result, I'm sleeping with a man I've been investigating for years. The head of a criminal empire. My father would roll in his grave.
“Stop thinking,” Dom murmurs as he settles between my thighs. When his tongue touches my pussy, all thoughts fly out of my head replaced with sensation. I’m lost to him.
My body responds to him in ways I can't control. The physical connection between us is electric, undeniable.
But it’s more than physical. The truth is, I enjoy talking to him, challenging him, being challenged by him.
No man has ever looked at me like they respect and value my ideas like he does.
Yes he challenges, but he doesn’t condescend. He pushes me expecting me to rise to the occasion.
But this between us is madness. While our bodies fit perfectly, our worlds are at odds.
We live on opposites of the law. I just shared about my life, my father, while he deflects questions about his history.
When I press, he kisses me until I forget what I asked. And I let him. What does that say about me?
My career, my principles, my father's legacy, I'm risking everything. For what? A few mind-blowing orgasms with a man I have no future with? Not that I’m looking for a future with any man, but still. This situation is futile.
He rises over me, sinks into me, and oh my God does he feel good. I let go. I grab on. I let pleasure overtake me.
The next morning I rise to an empty bed. Dom left around two in the morning. It’s unclear if he’ll ever be back. I’m equally hopeful that he will and he won’t. At least we made the most of the few hours we had together.
After my shower, I make coffee and have peanut butter toast as I review the papers I’d brought home last night. Because of this situation with Dom, I haven’t been working as hard on his case. It doesn’t feel right. It feels too much like a honey trap and I can’t stomach that.
But this morning, I decide to review everything I have and realize that I’m viewing it with new eyes. New insights.
I've spent years building a mental image of Dominic Vitale: ruthless mafia don, criminal mastermind, enemy of justice. A man who cares about nothing except power and money and is willing to kill for it. He was just a target of my investigation, not a living breathing human being.
But now I’ve seen the man.
When he speaks about Elena and her children, his face softens. The fierce protectiveness in his voice when discussing Rocco's kidnapping isn't an act. There's a tenderness there that doesn't fit my FBI profile of him.
“Family is everything. The only thing.” He’d said that was something we didn’t understand.
At first, I wasn’t sure what he meant. But I’m beginning to understand.
His quest isn’t for power or money. It’s to protect.
Strangely, that’s my job. How can we have the same goals and yet be on two sides of the law?
I push away stray hair that’s fallen loose from my ponytail, trying to sort through my conflicted thoughts.
Dom carries his family's legacy not just as a burden but as a sacred trust.
He'd die for them without hesitation.
I think back to when I offered to help Elena escape her life. She looked at me like I didn’t understand. At that time, I thought it was fear.
But now, I can see that these men, as macho and misogynistic as they can be, provide greater protection to their families.
Elena is Dom’s cousin, but he’s cared for her, protected her since his father died. Maybe even before that.
Not that these men can’t be abusive, but I’m beginning to sense it’s no more so than any other man. And in some cases, their devotion is the thing of fairy tales.
My eyes drift to the business section of yesterday's newspaper on my coffee table. Dom's company had announced another successful acquisition. Even the financial analysts who don't know his other "business interests" acknowledge his brilliance.
He navigates corporate America with the same strategic mind he uses as a member of La Corona.
Dom would excel in any world he chose. His intelligence, his drive, his leadership make him exceptional even without the criminal empire.
Part of me wonders what he might have become if born into a different family.
I wonder why he continues his criminal activities when he clearly doesn’t need to.
Is it a game to him? Or is it duty to La Corona? Would there be any situation in which he’d leave and choose a straight and narrow path?
This is dangerous territory. Finding the humanity in Dom makes it harder to remember what he is. What he's done. What he represents.
I think about what he said about my father’s death and how he doesn’t think his father is involved.
The mafia doesn’t seem to have a moral code about not killing cops. Instead, he suggested it brought too much attention.
I’ve read my father’s file so many times, I have memorized it. I can recall every detail, every witness statement, the ballistics reports, and crime scene photos.
Back then, I'd been so certain a Vitale, most likely Aldo, had ordered the hit. It was the foundation that drove me to move into the Organized Crime unit at the FBI and fueled my determination to bring the Vitale family to justice.
But what if I've been wrong all these years? After all, I’ve not found anything solid against Aldo or Dom.
Dom's certainty that his family wasn't responsible nags at me. He didn't hesitate or calculate his response.
It came naturally, with the confidence of truth.
And now the little tidbits of information that didn’t fit in my father's case stand out.
Inconsistencies in the timeline, a mysterious car reported near our house days before the shooting, calls my father received that made him pace the kitchen with a furrowed brow.
I’d ignored these, after all, all cases are a bit messy. And my boss was on the same page as I was. Blackwood has always supported my theories. Encouraged me to stick with the Vitale case even as it fizzled.
Several times Dom has hinted, even suggested, that there’s corruption at the FBI. But I’d be a fool to let a known criminal cause me to doubt my own colleagues.
Perhaps that’s his goal.
He joked with me that I was using sex to get information but perhaps he’s the one running a honey trap.
I rub my temples. God, please don’t let that be true.
When I arrive at work, I do my damnedest to push away everything that happened last night and focus on my job.
"Agent Ricci," Blackwood calls from his office doorway.
I have a moment of panic. What if he knows about me and Dom? But then I remember he’s the one who suggested I run a honey trap.
The idea of using sex in my job is revolting. I’m not sure I can use it as an excuse and still feel like I can keep my dignity.
When I get to his office, he gestures to the chair across from his desk. "Close the door behind you."
My stomach drops. His tone is casual, but there's an edge to it that puts me on alert. I settle into the chair, crossing my legs to stop my knee from bouncing nervously.
"Where are we with the Vitale case?" he asks, shuffling through papers without looking up.
I haven’t been working on it for two weeks as I’ve been investigating Rocco’s kidnapping and Mrs. Ferraza’s murder, both without his knowledge.
"Still gathering evidence," I lie, hating myself for it. "His legitimate businesses are airtight."
Blackwood's eyes snap to mine. "I'm hearing you've been asking questions about the Ferraza woman's murder. And Rocco Monti's kidnapping. Care to explain why you're digging into cold cases instead of focusing on bringing down Vitale?"
My pulse quickens. How does he know? I haven't filed any official reports on those inquiries.
"Actually, sir, it's all connected to Vitale," I improvise, my mind scrambling to put together a reasonable argument for my investigations. "I believe these incidents reveal a pattern that could help us build our case against him."
Blackwood leans back, studying me. "Explain."
“It's almost like someone is trying to ruin them from the inside out. Starting with Mrs. Ferraza’s murder, or maybe even before that with Umberto Vitale’s murder, there seems to be an effort to ruin La Corona from the inside.”
His eyes narrow. “Go on.”
“I have reason to believe someone is working to destabilize La Corona's unity, possibly orchestrated by someone looking to weaken their collective strength."
I hold my breath as Blackwood considers this. It's not entirely false, just not my real motivation.
"And how does this help us nail Vitale specifically?" he presses.
"I think it’s possible that Aldo Vitale started it all in hopes of coalescing all the power under him. And as his heir, Dominic could be continuing that quest.” My stomach roils at the betrayal I feel for tossing Dominic under the bus like that, which is crazy.
I shouldn’t have any loyalty toward Dom.
Then again, what I’m saying is a complete fabrication to cover my ass.
“How does Rocco fit in?”
“I was thinking someone else in La Corona has seen the same pattern and perhaps took Rocco as a warning.”
His head see-saws as he takes in my theory. “So who called you to find the boy, Agent Ricci?”
“What better way to make it look like someone else took Rocco than to call the FBI? Plus it’s well known I’ve been looking at the Vitale family. It’s a way to give me an excuse to bring him down. La Corona gets their revenge using the FBI.”
He laughs. “I’ve never known the mafia to be so clever. Normally, they just kill anyone in their way.”
But they don’t, I realize. Not that they don’t kill, but rarely are they rash. These families haven’t maintained three generations of power by being impulsive or stupid.
I’m reminded of Dom’s comment about family, and how no one understands how important it is to them.
It’s why I’m able to concoct this lie without Blackwood questioning it. The truth is, while a rival family might have kidnapped Rocco, no one in La Corona would have.
By the time of the kidnapping, Rocco was known to be Luca’s son, a Monti.
“Maybe the last generation. You have to remember, except for Don Ferraza, the rest of La Corona is a new generation. They operate differently. They’re less flashy. More strategic.”
Blackwood studies me for a long moment. I maintain eye contact, though my palms are sweating.
"Interesting approach," Blackwood says, leaning back in his chair. His fingers steeple beneath his chin as he watches me. "I've always appreciated your ability to think outside the box, Ricci. It's what makes you one of our best. It’s why I put you on this case."
I nod, relief washing over me. "Thank you, sir."
"But I need concrete results, not theories. Focus on actionable evidence against Vitale. His attempts to take over La Corona aren’t what we need to put him away. We need evidence. Tax fraud. Money laundering. Murder. That’s what we need."
"Understood, sir." But I’m unsettled at how uninterested he is in a kidnapping and murder within La Corona.
Granted the murder was years ago and considered closed.
But what the file says and what Dom says are different. Dom believes an informant killed her. Ernie Abruzzo.
Could he be the redacted name in the report I’ve been trying to get?
"How's our other approach working?" His eyebrow arches slightly. "The more... personal angle we discussed?"
My stomach tightens. The honey trap. The suggestion he made that I'd dismissed as inappropriate but now, ironically, have fallen into on my own. But how does he know? Is he having me followed?
"Vitale is arrogant," I say, keeping my voice cool and professional. "He underestimates my intelligence. Thinks he can charm his way into information without giving anything away himself."
Not entirely untrue. Dom does try to charm me, and he does deflect my questions. But there's more complexity to him than Blackwood could ever understand,
"Men like Vitale always believe they're the smartest person in the room," I continue. "They can't imagine a woman might outmaneuver them. I’m letting him think he has the upper hand. When he makes a mistake, and he will, I'll be there."
"Good." Blackwood nods slowly. "Just be careful not to get too close. These mafia types are seductive. The power, the money, the loyalty they command. It can be... intoxicating."
Is he warning me or testing me? I can't tell.
"I know exactly who Dominic Vitale is," I say firmly. "And what he represents."
"I have no doubt," Blackwood replies. "Keep me updated. And Ricci? Remember where your loyalties lie."
The words hit like a slap. Does he suspect something? Or is this just standard cautionary advice?
"Always, sir." I rise, but before I leave, I ask, “Is there anyone else on the case?” I need to know if there’s someone reporting my activities.
“I’ve got a new agent about to go under cover. It’s best if you don’t know the details. Don’t want to let anything slip. I have every confidence in you, Agent Ricci, but Don Vitale is shrewd.”
“Yes, sir.” I leave his office, my mind whirling with thoughts, and guilt building. My first thought had been to warn Dom about an undercover agent in his operation.
I head to the ladies’ room, bracing my hands against the cool porcelain sink as I stare at myself in the mirror. What am I doing?
I'm lying to my superior.
Investigating cases without authorization.
And most disturbing of all, I actually considered protecting a criminal.
For years, my path has been clear. Uphold the law, honor my father's memory, bring criminals to justice. Black and white. Right and wrong. The boundaries were fixed and certain.
Now those lines are blurring. I'm keeping secrets from the FBI while feeling protective of a mafia don. I'm questioning my colleagues but trusting the word of a criminal. It's backward and completely unlike me.
So why am I feeling protective of Dom? Why does Blackwood's dismissal of Rocco and Mrs. Ferraza’s cases make me uneasy?
I splash cold water on my face, staring at my reflection. The woman looking back at me seems different. Her eyes hold secrets they never did before.
I've started down a slippery slope, and I'm not sure I can find my way back.
What terrifies me most isn't that I'm breaking rules for Dom.
It's that for the first time in my life, I'm not certain which side is right.