Olivia
My stomach knots as I wait for Roman Ginetti to arrive. Even in FBI briefings, his name comes with warnings. Marco Calabresi's enforcer, the man who makes problems disappear. Permanently.
"You're fidgeting," Dom says, his hand settling over mine as we wait in the kitchen dining area where we’ve been doing our investigation.
I pull away, crossing my arms. "I'm not thrilled about meeting your friend who kills people for a living."
“He doesn’t kill people for a living.” Dom leans against the counter, watching me. "And he knows more about this case than anyone. Plus, I vouched for you. That means something."
"That I'm not immediately getting concrete shoes?"
His mouth twitches. "Roman won't hurt you while I'm here."
The qualifier isn't reassuring. "While you're here?"
Dom steps closer. "I'm not leaving your side."
Despite everything, I believe him. It's crazy how safe I feel with a man I've spent years trying to put behind bars.
A sharp knock echoes through the safehouse.
Dom's hand brushes my lower back. "Ready?"
No. But I straighten my shoulders anyway. "Let's do this."
Roman Ginetti looks exactly like I expected, tall, imposing, with cold eyes that assess everything as a potential threat.
It’s hard to imagine him as a doting, devoted father and family man.
His handshake is firm but not crushing. "Agent Ricci. Dominic says you're helping us."
"I'm investigating corruption within the FBI," I correct, maintaining eye contact. "Our interests temporarily align."
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Temporary. Of course."
Dom clears his throat. "Let's focus on what we know."
I spread my notes across the table, grateful for something to do with my hands. "Based on the evidence we've gathered, someone at the FBI has been systematically targeting La Corona for years, using unethical and possibly illegal means.”
“Kidnapping isn’t illegal?” Roman quips.
I ignore him. “The pattern starts with Mrs. Ferraza, although I think we might consider it starts earlier with Umberto Vitale’s arrest and murder.”
“What?” Dom interjects. “Umberto wasn’t the victim of Blackwood.”
I turn to him. “How do you know? Someone arrested him. It wasn’t Blackwood, but it was someone in the Organized Crime Unit. Someone who tipped him off.”
Dom’s lips purse together.
“I suspect, and I think you do too, that it was your father who set him up. That he initially brought in Blackwood to get rid of his brother and frame Luca Monti. I think it’s possible that’s where Blackwood got the idea that La Corona could be brought down by attacking it from within.”
“Mother fucker. She is good,” Roman says, nodding at me like he’s impressed.
Dom rubs his temple. “It’s possible.”
The three of us go through the entire theory of what’s been happening, each sharing our own piece.
“Ernie was pissed that the Calabresi family wouldn’t make him like Sal. Sal wanted to bring down Marco and La Corona. Thought he could run it better,” Roman shares.
I look at him, realizing this was a piece I didn’t know. “Was that in the journal?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead he says, “We believe Ernie killed Mrs. Ferraza because she learned his and Sal’s plan, and tried to make it look like Marco was responsible.”
“The official report was a drive by,” I say.
Dom and Roman exchange a look.
“What?”
“Sometimes the police give inaccurate information.”
I arch a brow. “To cover up mob violence?”
“Or to deceive certain members of certain organizations that they’re not considering it a hit,” Dom says. “But moving on, Ernie Abruzzo ends up dead from an 'overdose' after Mrs. Ferraza's murder.”
“Trying to implicate Leo,” Roman says.
I didn’t need to ask about that. It’s well known that several people in Leo’s orbit have died by overdose.
“Isabella felt her mother’s murder wasn’t adequately investigated and Blackwood took advantage.” Roman turns to Dom. “Did I tell you she was attacked the day La Corona decided I should marry her?”
Dom shakes his head. “What?”
“I was following her. She had set up a meet with Blackwood. She expected him to extract her. Instead she was attacked and I saved her.”
“Was it Blackwood?” I ask.
“I couldn’t say. At the time I thought it was a mugger, but now I’m wondering if she was about to be another victim like her mother.” A darkness crosses Roman’s face. It’s scary and instinctively I take a step back.
“Thank God you were there,” Dom says, patting Roman on the arm.
“We’ve got fake information given to Gabriella Monti and an attempt to recruit her,” I continue, as I push forward another file.
"And the kidnapping of Rocco Monti. The vehicle traced back to an FBI fleet.
The anonymous call directly to me. And the Santa who took him suffered a heart attack while in your custody. "
Roman arches a brow. “She knows about that?”
Dom shrugs.
“I still don’t know about Sal Abruzzo except that he’s missing.”
Roman shakes his head. “Probably got scared and ran off.”
“Scared of what?” I push, wondering if he’ll admit that murder is often a solution.
“Rats,” Roman says. “There’s a lot of them in this city.”
I’m certain Sal is dead at Roman’s hands, but there’s no point in pursuing it. "Then there's the missing money from the Monti raid.”
“And your attack that night,” Dom says, his hand rubbing my back.
Roman’s brow furrows as he notices the gesture.
“As far as I can see, in all these incidents, Blackwood is the only thing that ties them together.”
I swallow, still finding it hard to believe my boss would be so evil.
Unethical, yes, but a murdering kidnapper?
"The evidence points that way. But I can’t decide why. What's his endgame?"
"Power," Roman says simply. "Or revenge."
"Against whom?" I ask.
"All of us," Dom replies. "La Corona as a whole."
I shake my head. “We’ve already discussed this. It seems personal.”
Roman scratches his chin. “If it started with Umberto and Aldo brought him in, maybe Aldo reneged on their deal. Your dad was a fucking bastard, Dom. He’d totally fuck with the FBI and enjoy doing it.”
I glance at Dom, wondering if he agrees. His nod suggests it’s a possibility.
“But your dad died years ago.”
“Paying for the sins of the father,” Dom shrugs.
Roman flips through my carefully organized files, his expression unreadable. "Impressive work," he finally says, looking up at me. "You're thorough. Methodical. You connect dots others miss." His eyes narrow slightly. "Just like your father."
It takes a moment for me to realize what he said. “My father?”
Dom shifts beside me, his body tensing, his head shaking toward Roman almost imperceptibly.
“His reputation preceded him. Smart cop. Incorruptible, they said." A pause. "At least, that's what most people thought."
“Fuck,” Dom hisses.
My stomach drops. "What are you implying?"
Roman holds my gaze steadily. "Your father was good at playing both sides. Very good. It's why Aldo valued him so highly. In fact, from where I stand, he was the only man Aldo respected. Even more than Dom here.”
Dom shakes his head. “That’s enough Roman.”
The room seems to tilt slightly. "My father was a good cop."
"He was," Roman agrees, and somehow that's worse. "One of the best. That's what made him so effective for the Vitale family."
I look at Dom, searching for denial, but find only careful neutrality.
"You're lying.” What he’s suggesting is ludicrous. “My father wasn’t corrupt.”
"Not corrupt," Roman interrupts. "Strategic. There's a difference."
I feel Dom's hand on my back, like he’s trying to steady me. But my world is spinning off its axis.
"That's a lie," I snap. "My father was a good cop. A good man."
Roman doesn't flinch at my outburst. His eyes, cold, calculating, remain fixed on mine. The thought hits me: Maybe he’s the one who killed my father.
"Did you do it? Did you kill him?"
Roman's expression doesn't change, but something shifts in his posture. A subtle tensing that reminds me how dangerous he truly is. “No.”
I turn to Dom, desperate for him to deny this. To tell me this is a cruel joke. "Did you know about this?"
The pain in his eyes tells me everything before he speaks. "Olivia—"
"Don't." My throat tightens. "Just don't."
"I didn't kill your father," Roman says, his voice level. "In fact, I tried to recruit him."
The statement is so unexpected it momentarily derails my anger. "What?"
"Your father was wasted working for Aldo," Roman continues. "Marco recognized his talents. We wanted him to work for the Calabresi family instead."
I shake my head, trying to process what he's saying. "That's not possible. My father wasn't—he wouldn't—"
"He turned us down," Roman says. "Said he'd given his word to Aldo. Honor among thieves, I suppose."
The room spins slightly. I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. "You're lying."
Dom steps closer, his voice gentle. "Olivia, your father was respected by everyone. Even my father, who didn’t respect anyone."
"Stop talking about him like you knew him.” I scan my memories for any hint of what they’re saying. Yes he worked long hours, but all detectives do.
I close my eyes, feeling the foundations of my life crumbling. Everything I thought I knew about my father suddenly feels like a lie.
"Who killed him?" I finally ask, opening my eyes to meet Roman's gaze.
"Not La Corona," he answers.
I turn to Dom. “Your father.”
“Normally I might have agreed to the possibility, but like I said, my father liked yours. He had no reason to kill him.”
Roman studies us both. “I feel like I’m in the middle of something I shouldn’t be. I’m going to take off. Let Marco know where we’re at.”
“Coward,” Dom says.
Roman grins. “Hey, I’ve got to get home and back cookies with Angelica. Plus she’s making something special for me to wear at the Winter Festival.” He gives me a wave. “Agent Ricci.”
I don’t respond. When he leaves, I whirl on Dom. "You knew. All this time, you knew about my father and never said anything."