Dom
I always liked the Winter Festival. La Corona has been a part of it since I was a kid.
I remember skating and drinking hot chocolate with Elena, Luca, and Gabriella. Marco and Roman were teenagers, too cool to be seen with us kids.
The novelty wore off until Elena’s kids got old enough to enjoy it. But last year Luca was back and it was revealed he was the triplets father.
I still get to see the kids, but not as much as I used to.
Not as much as I’d like to.
This year, as I dress for the outdoor holiday event, I’m trying to psych myself up for the kids sake.
Plus, I plan to have my eyes wide open in case Blackwood tries anything against the families again.
Hopefully, it will help keep Olivia out of my mind. Fat chance.
My phone buzzes. Another update on Olivia.
At home. Still.
She hasn’t returned to work and I can’t figure out what that means. A report yesterday said she went to the doctor, which nearly had me out the door to go to her.
But then she returned home.
I figure she’s still having effects from the attack. God, why won’t she let me help her? Protect her? It’s driving me fucking mad.
I've never worried about a woman the way I worry about her. It's a weakness I can't afford, especially with someone who'd happily put me in handcuffs given half a chance.
Yet here I am, tracking her movements and pining like a lovesick moron.
My phone buzzes again.
She’s on the move. In FBI vehicle.
She’s going to work? On a Saturday? Is that to avoid Blackwood? If so, it’s smart.
Keep eyes on her.
I look in the mirror one last time and the man staring back makes me see the truth I’ve been trying not to admit.
I'm in love with Olivia Ricci.
Not just attracted. Not just infatuated. In love.
The kind that makes your chest ache when you're apart. This situation would be laughable if it wasn't so fucking painful.
My phone lights up with another update. Olivia's arrived at the FBI office.
God I hope Blackwood isn’t there.
The more I think about him, the more I think Olivia is right in that his tentacles reach further back than any of us realized. The pattern is there.
Creating chaos, setting family against family, leaving just enough breadcrumbs to implicate La Corona in his dirty work. It’s something my father would do.
Did do when he arranged for Luca Monti to take the blame for Uncle Umberto’s incarceration and subsequent death.
Bastard. I liked Umberto.
He wasn’t drunk on power like my father was.
Blackwood wasn’t the one who arrested Umberto, but it was still his office. He still could have been the one who assigned the agent, who interestingly is dead from a freak accident.
Could my father have offered Blackwood something and then reneged or otherwise pissed him off?
I wonder why my father didn’t use Olivia’s father in the arrest. Despite what Olivia thinks, her father did have some scruples, and he might have said no to setting up Umberto and Luca.
Olivia’s father was more of a fixer. An after the fact sort of associate mostly in police business.
But my father likes him for reasons I never understood considering he never liked anyone, including me.
I remember my father sitting in this very office after hearing about Detective Ricci's death.
“Whoever killed him will pay, Dominic. Mark my words!”
“Who is it?”
My father shook his head. “I have an idea. Someone who didn’t like that I had Ricci poking around.”
It’s a farfetched leap, but could my father have had Ricci looking into Blackwood?
My father may have used Blackwood to take down Umberto, but what if Blackwood used that opportunity to start building his own agenda?
Especially if my father didn’t meet whatever deal they had?
Olivia suspected her father was killed by the Vitales. But what if it was Blackwood who arranged it?
Kill Detective Ricci, blame it on my father.
Whatever vendetta Blackwood has, it didn’t die when my father did. Or maybe like my father he gets off on the power trip of playing people like marionettes.
If I'm right, then Blackwood isn't just some overzealous agent with a vendetta. He's been playing a long game, one that started before Olivia even joined the Bureau.
I need to protect her. Not just because I love her, though God knows that's reason enough.
But because she's in the crosshairs of a man who's been eliminating loose ends for decades.
I make a decision. It's time to end this. Time to take Blackwood down, not just for La Corona, but for Olivia. For the truth she deserves to know about her father.
Even if it means she'll hate me for it.
But now, I’m expected at the Winter Festival. But maybe while I’m there, I can hunt down some of my father’s now retired captains and soldiers. Maybe they’ll have more info for me.
I arrive at the event and for a moment, I’m transported back to being eight years old. It would be fun to have my own kid to bring here someday.
"Uncle Dom!" Three identical shrieks pierce my thoughts as Elena's triplets barrel toward me, nearly knocking me over.
I crouch down, catching Rocco and Elio in each arm while Adalina wraps herself around my neck from behind.
"You came!" Adalina's voice vibrates with excitement against my ear.
"Of course I came. Would I miss seeing you little munchkins?" I ruffle Rocco's hair, noticing how much taller they all seem since Thanksgiving.
Elena approaches with Luca, baby Gianna bundled against her chest. "They've been watching for you," she says, smiling although I see concern in her eyes. I can only imagine what Roman told Luca and the others about my entanglement with Olivia.
"I guess I’m the man of the hour."
"Can we go see Santa?" Elio tugs at my sleeve, eyes wide with hope.
My stomach tightens at the mention of Santa, memories of last year's kidnapping still raw. I glance at Luca, who gives me a subtle nod. Security is tight this year, men stationed throughout the festival, watching every Santa, every exit.
"Let's get hot chocolate first," I suggest, buying time.
Later, with the triplets ice skating with Luca, Elena hands Gianna to me. The baby is impossibly small in my arms, her tiny fingers curling around mine with surprising strength.
"She likes you," Elena says softly.
I stare down at Gianna's perfect face, an ache forming in my chest. Is this what fatherhood feels like? This overwhelming desire to protect, to provide, to be worthy?
For the first time, I allow myself to imagine a child of my own. A family. A different kind of future than the one I've always accepted as inevitable.
“You should get married, Dom. Have some kids of your own.”
I roll my eyes.
“What’s going on with Agent Ricci?”
“Ah, so there it is. Gianna is just a ploy so you can interrogate me.”
“It’s not like that and you know it. I want you to be happy.”
I arch a brow. “What if Agent Ricci makes me happy?”
She laughs. “Well, I guess there are conjugal visits in prison.”
“Ha, ha.”
She studies me. “Is there something there? I mean, does she feel the same as you?”
I look out over the ice rink because it sucks to acknowledge that Olivia probably doesn’t think of me at all except perhaps in relation to her case to put me away. “No.”
“Because if you love her, I’ll support you.”
“Whether I love her is irrelevant considering who I am and who she is.”
I see Petey Tabbini on the other side of the rink. He’s got to be hitting ninety, but he worked for my father and my grandfather before him.
“I need to say hello to old Petey.” I stand. “You okay here?”
“You can run, Dom, but you can’t hide.”
I give her a wink. “I can try.” I step away, my mind already shifting back to the investigation.
By the time I reach Petey, he’s talking with Pops Russo, my father's old consigliere, who was like a grandfather to me and Elena. Next to him stands Carmine Falcone, who ran collections in the days when Detective Ricci was on our payroll.
"Don Vitale," Petey greets me, his weathered face breaking into a smile. "Good to see you enjoying the festivities."
"Petey, Pops, Carmine." I shake their hands. "Mind if I join you for a drink?"
I grab a mulled wine from the vendor and we move to a quieter area. After some small talk about business and family, I steer the conversation where I need it to go.
"Do you remember Detective Ricci," I say casually, warming my hands with the warm paper cup.
Carmine’s expression shifts subtly. "Yeah. I always liked him. Everyone did, even your dad. He seemed like too much a Boy Scout to be working for us, but he did good work."
“Remember how he helped get that charge against Franco Bianchi dropped,” Pops says with a laugh, ending with a cough common with smokers.
“Bianchi was a numnut,” Carmine rolls his eyes. “Who gets arrested for stealing candy bars? God I thought Don Vitale…ah…your dad, was going to pop right then and there.”
“Hey, I like chocolate enough to steal it,” Petey says.
“Why you asking about him?” Carmine asks.
I try to act nonchalant. “Anything you know about who killed him?”
They each look at each other in turn, like doing so will scrape through the years of memories in their minds.
“I don’t,” Petey says, “but I was on my way out by then.
“Aldo was pissed. I remember that,” Pops says. “Not just because we lost a good contact in the department, but because he respected the man. And we all knew your father didn't respect many."
There’s a group snicker at that.
"Did he know who was behind it?" I ask again.
"There were rumors," Carmine says. "Nothing concrete. But your father suspected it wasn't in the line of duty, like the report said.”
“Yeah,” Pops says as if he’s remembering something. “He thought someone else fixed up that police report. He suspected that it was someone Ricci was investigating for him.”
This piques my interest. “Any chance it was an FBI agent? Maybe one he used during the time Uncle Umberto was arrested.”
They all look down at the mention of Uncle Umberto. We’ve never talked about my father and how he was behind his brother’s demise.
I think we all carry some guilt that we didn’t realize what was going or try to stop it.
That said, my father was exactly the sort of man Olivia thinks I am.
If I’d challenged him, I’d be dead too.
He was the one in La Corona valued himself more than family.
“Maybe,” Pops finally says.
“What can you tell me?”
“All that’s water under the bridge. Everyone is dead now.” Pops gives me a stern look, like he’s warning me against something.
Up until now, I’ve spoken with respect and reverence toward these men.
They are my elders. But now I speak as the don of the Vitale family.
“The FBI agent isn’t dead, and I have reason to believe he was behind Rocco’s kidnapping last year.
So I need to know what the fuck vendetta he might have against the Vitales or La Corona. ”
The three men straighten in a sign of respect, responding to the authority I hold, even in their retirement.
“Well, that changes things. Poor kid.” Carmine glances over where Rocco and his siblings are playing reindeer games.
He turns back to me. “I don’t know if it’s the same guy, but Aldo did have a Fed he was bringing on.
He was supposed to get some of the product seized in the raid that jammed up Umberto.
He was also going to get paid to jam up the Russians.
But you know your father. Something about the fed rubbed him wrong.
So once Umberto was dead and Aberov was in prison, he… as my granddaughter says, ghosted him.”
I determine that could give Blackwood motive to want to fuck with us, but it doesn’t explain Detective Ricci’s murder. “How does Ricci fit into that?”
Pops lights a cigarette and takes a long puff before saying.
“Aldo didn’t just ghost him. Aldo wanted Ricci to make sure the fed was caught with his ill-gotten gains.
Especially when his initial plan didn’t work, he wanted someone to take the fall for Umberto.
Who better than a greedy fed who’s on the take? ”
“Don Monti took the fall—”
“Well, he got blamed,” Carmine rightly points out. “Aldo was okay with that, as long as it wasn’t him.”
God, my father was such a mother fucker. “Back to Ricci.”
“Oh,” Pops flicks an ash on the ground. “My guess is the fed got wind of it. Killed Ricci. Your dad passed not long after. I never heard anything more after that.”
His reasoning makes sense. But Blackwood wasn’t satisfied with killing Ricci and my father dying. He wanted to ruin us all.
I finish my drink. "Thank you. This stays between us."
As they nod their agreement, I spot Roman across the festival, watching me intently. He gestures subtly for me to join him.
I excuse myself, the pieces falling into place.
Blackwood didn't just show up in our lives recently.
He's been circling La Corona for nearly a decade.
And Olivia's father may have died trying to get him exposed.
Which means Olivia is in even more danger than I thought. She’s already been attacked once, given a warning she hasn’t heeded.
I dial her number but it doesn’t ring. I stop walking, focusing on writing her a text. I need to warn her. But it doesn’t go through and I realize she’s blocked me. Dammit, Olivia.
Roman approaches, eyebrow raised. "Everything okay?"
"No." I move away from a group of carolers. "I need to find Olivia. Now."
“Dom, you need to—”
“I’m nearly certain her boss killed her father for the same thing she’s doing now.”
“She’s an FBI agent. She knows how to protect—”
“Her father was a decorated cop. Come on Roman. I know you don’t like her, but she doesn’t deserve to die. Not when I’m the one who put her up to investigating Rocco and Leo’s wife.”
“Okay, but…”
“Don’t say it. I know. I’m on my own.” It’s the first time I feel abandoned by my brothers in La Corona. But I don’t have to whine about it.
I start toward the exit when my phone starts buzzing. I check and see the silent alarm is going off in a private warehouse I own. No one should be there. It’s empty right now since moving my contraband product elsewhere.
My phone rings. It’s Angelo.
“Yeah, I see it.”
“My crew is moving inventory, but I think I can get—”
I need him to move the inventory. Keeping my business moving is why Olivia has never caught me in a compromising position.
“I’ll go.” When I hang up, I text Mario. Keep eyes on subject at all times. She should be safe until I deal with this alarm.
But when I’m done, not even Olivia will be able to save Blackwood from my wrath.