Dom
I’m a fucking idiot.
I sit in my car, engine off, staring at the apartment building where Olivia lives. I grip the steering wheel like I’m holding on for dear life.
If I let go, I’ll fall back into her, something that can’t happen.
She’s FBI, out to put me in prison and perhaps willing to use dirty tricks to make it happen.
Yet here I am, like some lovesick teenager, unable to stay away.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her. The defiant tilt of her chin, the flash in her eyes when she challenges me.
I feel her skin against mine. Hear her voice. It's pathetic how much space she occupies in my head.
I've handled rival organizations, corrupt politicians, and would-be usurpers without breaking a sweat.
My people respect me, fears me when necessary. I know how to manage them.
But Olivia? She’s got me twisted up and confused. I’m struggling to believe she was behind Rocco’s kidnapping.
I’m worried she hasn’t heeded my warning and now has someone inside her institution targeting her while La Corona is also watching and waiting.
She has no idea the danger she’s in.
I suppose that’s why I’m here.
I’m protecting the woman who may not deserve protection. How fucked up is that?
Her car pulls up and she parks. I sink lower in my seat as she approaches the building entrance. This is ridiculous. I'm a grown man, the head of the Vitale family, hiding in a car like some amateur stalker.
I should leave. For my own sanity, I need to get the hell out of here.
I reach to press the car’s start button when I see a figure detaching from the darkness beside the building entrance.
Average height, dark clothing, but there's purpose in his movements as he approaches Olivia from behind.
My body moves before my brain catches up. I'm out of the car, crossing the street in long strides, hand already reaching for the weapon at my back.
The man lunges forward, driving her against the door of the building.
I'm running now, fury pumping through my veins. Olivia struggles, landing a solid kick to the man's groin, but he's bigger, stronger.
He clamps his hand over her mouth as he pins her arm.
He leans in close to her like he’s saying something, but I’m still too far away.
He snatches his hand away as if she’s bitten him, and she breaks free.
She jabs her elbow into his chest, and then goes for her weapon, but he grabs her again, slamming her hand against the door until she drops the gun.
But she’s not giving up. She lunches forward, ramming her head into him.
Then I see the flash of metal and my heart, already pounding as I’m about to reach the walkway, nearly stops.
He strikes the back of her head, and she drops to her knees.
"Last warning," the voice hisses.
He starts to skulk away, but I’m there. I hit him like a freight train, tackling him away from Olivia.
We crash to the pavement, rolling.
My fist connects with his jaw, the impact jarring up my arm.
He twists, breaking my grip, and slams an elbow into my ribs. Pain explodes in my side, but I've been hurt worse.
I drive my knee up, catching him in the stomach. He grunts, momentarily winded.
I hear a thump and I turn to see Olivia has collapsed. The distraction costs me.
The attacker slashes with a knife, catching my forearm.
I hiss but manage to grab his wrist, slamming it against the ground until the blade clatters away.
He headbutts me, stars exploding behind my eyes. Then he's up, staggering backward, face obscured by the hood of his jacket.
He spits, then turns and sprints down the street.
I’m torn between pursuit and killing the mother fucker and checking on Olivia. She wins out.
I rush to her side. "Olivia, stay with me."
Blood trickles down my arm as I kneel beside Olivia. Her eyes flutter, unfocused, before rolling back. She goes limp.
"Olivia!" I press my fingers to her neck. Her pulse is there, steady but rapid.
A gash on her temple bleeds freely, and I can already see bruising forming where she hit the door.
She needs medical attention. I could call 9-11, but I can’t wait with her.
"Dammit," I mutter, scooping her into my arms. Pain shoots through my ribs where the attacker landed his blow, but I push through it. Olivia's head lolls against my shoulder.
I carry her to my car, scanning the street for any witnesses or returning threats. Nothing.
After settling Olivia in the passenger seat, I grab my phone and dial as I slide behind the wheel.
"It's me. Need you at the Canal Street property. Now." I hang up before Angelo can ask questions. Next call is to Dr. Moretti, La Corona’s off the books physician.
"Medical emergency. Two patients. Lacerations, possible concussion. Twenty minutes." I finish with the address and his confirmation that he’ll be there.
I drive carefully but quickly through the city, taking a circuitous route to ensure we're not followed.
Every few blocks, I glance at Olivia. Still unconscious, her face pale. Blood mats her hair.
"Should've listened to me," I tell her unconscious form. "Stubborn woman."
The Canal Street property is one of several safehouses I maintain throughout the city.
Places not connected to the Vitale name through any paper trail similar to her building that I also own.
I pull into the underground garage, relief washing over me when I spot Angelo’s car already there.
He's waiting by the elevator, expression grim when he sees Olivia in my arms.
"Boss, what the—"
"Later. Help me get her upstairs. Doc's on his way."
In the apartment, I lay Olivia on the bed in the master suite. Blood seeps through my shirt sleeve, but I ignore it, focusing on checking her injuries.
The head wound on the front of her head looks worse than it is. Scalp wounds always bleed like hell, but I'm worried about the lump at the back of her head.
"She looks like that Fed,” Angelo says, hovering in the doorway.
I press a clean towel to Olivia's head wound. "She’s a fucking idiot for not listening to me."
I watch Olivia's eyelids flutter, relief washing through me, until they close again.
“Go check on Dr. Moretti.”
Angelo leaves, returning a few minutes later with the doctor, as Olivia’s eyes flutter open again.
"Dom?" Her voice is hoarse. She winces, hand moving to her temple. “What happened?
“You were attacked. This is Dr. Moretti.”
I step aside to let him care for Olivia. It doesn’t seem like he’s spent nearly enough time when he announces she has a mild concussion and patches up her cuts.
“That’s it? She was out for a long time.” I roll my shoulders, this feeling of panic is unusual for someone outside the family.
“That’s it. She needs rest.”
“I’ll show him out,” Angelo says.
“Put on extra guards but keep them discreet.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” Angelo takes one more look at Olivia and then me. But he’s smart enough not to ask again about who she is and why I’ve brought her here.
I go to the bathroom and bring back a glass of water for her.
"What happened? Where am I?" Olivia asks again.
"You were attacked outside your apartment. I happened to be nearby." No need to explain I was essentially stalking her building. Again. "This is one of my properties. You're safe here."
She tries to sit up. I help her, adjusting pillows behind her back.
"How long was I out?" she asks, eyeing the bandage on my arm.
Too long as far as I’m concerned. “Thirty minutes, give or take."
Olivia looks around the room, taking in the expensive furnishings, the security panel by the door. Understanding dawns on her face.
"A safehouse." It's not a question. "I need to call this in—"
"Are you fucking kidding me?" The words explode out of me. "Someone just tried to kill you, and your first instinct is to report back to the people who probably ordered the hit?"
Her eyes narrow. "What are you talking about?"
"I warned you, Olivia. I told you to back off. But you couldn't help yourself, could you? Had to keep digging."
"So that's what this is about?" She tries to swing her legs off the bed, wincing as she moves. "La Corona decided to shut me up? Send a message?"
The accusation couldn’t hurt more if she swung the knife her attacker caught me with earlier tonight. "Is that what you think? That I'd order a hit on you?"
"You said I kidnapped Rocco. Then you told me to stop investigating. I didn't. Now I'm attacked. Connect the dots, Dom."
I step back, jaw clenched so tight it hurts. "If I wanted you gone, you'd be gone. I definitely wouldn't have saved your ass tonight."
She stares at me, uncertainty replacing some of the accusation in her eyes. "Then who did this?"
"Think about it, Olivia. Who benefits from you backing off the investigation? Not me. I'm the one who pushed you to look into it. Someone doesn't want you connecting those dots."
I see the moment it clicks. The slight widening of her eyes, the quick intake of breath. "Someone I work with."
"Tell me exactly what he said to you," I press, sitting on the edge of the bed. My side throbs where that bastard landed his blow, but I ignore it.
Olivia winces as she shifts position. "He grabbed me from behind, slamming into the door. Said 'Stop digging.’"
Relief washes through me, though I'm careful not to show it. "So this was a warning, not an execution." I stand, pacing the room. "That's good."
"Good?" Her voice rises. "How is any of this good?"
"Because warnings mean they don't want you dead yet." I pause, thinking. "They want you scared enough to back off, which gives us time to figure out who's behind this."
Olivia pushes herself up from the bed, grimacing with the effort. "I need to go. My phone—"
"Is off and staying that way." I move between her and the door. "You're not leaving."
Her eyes flash dangerously. "Are you kidnapping a federal agent, Dominic? Because that's a spectacularly bad idea, even for you."
"It's not kidnapping. It's protection."
She tries to step around me, but sways slightly, still unsteady. "I have protocols for this. People I need to contact."
"The same people who just beat the shit out of you?" I catch her arm to steady her. "If someone in your office is dirty, your protocols just paint a target on your back."
"You don't know if it’s really—"
"And you don't know that it isn’t, but you have doubts about someone at work. Are you willing to risk your life for protocol?" I soften my tone, aware of how close we're standing. "Look, I'm not asking you to trust me completely. I'm asking you to consider the possibility that I'm right."
She pulls away from my touch. "So those are my options? Get kidnapped by you or potentially murdered by my boss?"
I meet her gaze directly, not backing down. "I can’t believe that it's a hard decision. Am I so monstrous that you’d rather be dead than with me?”
Her eyes aren’t clear, but there’s no missing the heat in them toward me.
I step closer, voice dropping. “What will it be? Stay here where I can protect you or walk out that door and hope whoever sent that warning doesn't decide to upgrade to a bullet next time. My protection or your protocols?"