Olivia
I wake to the scent of pine and cinnamon drifting through the air.
Christmas morning. For the first time since Dad died, the day feels special.
The bed beside me is empty, but warm. I rest my hand on my stomach, thinking about next Christmas when our baby will be here.
"You're awake." Dom stands in the doorway, holding two mugs of something steaming. His smile makes my heart skip.
"Merry Christmas," I say, sitting up against the pillows.
For years, Christmas was just another day to get through.
I'd keep the TV on for background noise while I sorted through case files, ordering Chinese takeout and opening the obligatory gift basket from the office.
Dad and I used to make Christmas special, pancakes shaped like reindeer, silly gifts, watching old movies together.
After he died, celebrating felt like a betrayal.
But Dom has transformed his home into something from a holiday catalog.
A massive tree stretches to the ceiling downstairs, covered in ornaments.
Garlands wind up the staircase.
Last night, we hung stockings by the fireplace, mine next to his, like we've been doing this for years instead of a couple of weeks.
"La Corona Christmas starts at three," Dom says, handing me a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. "We have all morning to ourselves.”
He sits beside me, his free hand finding mine. I lean against his shoulder, savoring the quiet moment.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"For what?"
"For making Christmas feel like Christmas again."
It's been two weeks since I killed Blackwood.
Two weeks since I watched a man I'd trusted for years point a gun at me with the intention of ending my life, even knowing I was pregnant.
The memory still jolts me awake some nights, but Dom is always there to wrap me up and make me feel safe again.
"You're thinking too hard," Dom murmurs, pressing his lips to my temple.
"Just processing," I reply, taking a sip of hot chocolate. "It's strange how quickly everything changed."
When Dom first suggested using his "people" to handle the Blackwood situation, my FBI training screamed in protest. I'd spent my career believing in systems and protocols, not backroom deals and off-the-books solutions.
But watching Dom's detective friend, a decorated detective who apparently has been on the Vitale payroll for years, handle everything with meticulous care showed me another side of Dom's world.
The official story: Special Agent Blackwood attacked me during an investigation, and I fired in self-defense.
The corruption investigation that followed revealed his systematic abuse of power, confirming everything Dom and I had pieced together.
My resignation from the FBI was accepted without question, they're too busy damage-controlling to fight it.
"Any regrets?" Dom asks, his fingers tracing circles on my wrist.
"About us? No." I set my mug down. "About walking away from everything I thought I was? Sometimes."
The truth is, I'm still figuring out who I am without my badge. For years, being an agent defined me. Now I'm... what?
A pregnant ex-FBI agent living with a mafia don? It sounds like the setup to a bad joke.
"You don't have to decide everything today," Dom says, reading my thoughts as he often does. "January will be soon enough to think about what's next."
He's right. For now, I'm taking things day by day. Finding my footing in this new reality. Learning to trust Dom's world while holding onto the parts of mine that still matter.
"One step at a time," I agree.
Whatever comes next year, I'll face it with him beside me. And for today, that's enough.
We finish our hot chocolate and then Dom leads me downstairs. The living room glows with the soft light of the Christmas tree. I've never seen so many presents wrapped in thick paper with satin ribbons.
"This is excessive," I say, but can't help smiling as Dom hands me another package.
"You'll get used to it." He watches me with those intense eyes that still make my stomach flip. "I have years of Christmases to make up for."
I've already opened jewelry that costs more than my first car, cashmere sweaters soft as clouds, and a first edition of my favorite novel. Each gift shows how closely he's been paying attention all these weeks.
Dom reaches behind the tree. "One more."
The small velvet box makes my heart stutter. I know what this is. After all, he’s always saying, “As soon as she says yes, we’re getting married.” But I’ve been waiting for him to ask.
"I know this is fast. I know our world is complicated. But I've never been more certain of anything than us." He opens the box to reveal a stunning emerald-cut diamond set in platinum.
He takes my hand. "Marry me."
I look from the ring to his face, the moment feeling surreal. Two months ago, I was trying to put this man in prison. Now I'm carrying his child, living in his home, and am deeply in love with him.
"Yes.”
His smile is brilliant as he slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly, of course. Dom Vitale leaves nothing to chance.
After all the extravagant gifts and an engagement ring Dom has given me, my offerings seem modest in comparison.
"My turn," I say, reaching for the two small packages I'd hidden. I pass him the first one.
Finding the perfect gift for a man who can buy anything he wants proved nearly impossible.
What do you get someone who owns half of New York?
For weeks, I'd wandered through stores, rejecting everything as either too impersonal or too insignificant.
Dom unwraps the first package, lifting the lid to reveal a pair of silver handcuffs.
His eyebrows shoot up, followed by that dangerous smile that still makes me want to jump him. "Should I be concerned about your intentions, Agent Ricci?"
"Ex-agent," I correct, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. "I thought they might be... symbolic. Of where we started. And maybe useful for other things."
He laughs, the sound warm and rich. "I like how your mind works." He dangles them from one finger. "Though these are nicer than Bureau issue."
"I upgraded. These have a safety release." I bite my lip. "In case things get... intense."
"Always thinking ahead." His eyes darken with promise. "I'll enjoy putting these to use."
I hand him the second package. This one matters the most.
Dom unwraps it slowly, revealing the simple silver frame. Inside is the grainy black and white image from my recent appointment. My first sonogram. He stares at it, uncharacteristically silent.
"There's something else you should know.” I lean over to look at the picture with him. "Look closely."
His eyes scan the image, brow furrowing in concentration. Then his head snaps up, eyes wide with question.
“Are there two?”
"Twins," I confirm. "The doctor confirmed it yesterday."
Dom's expression transforms into something I've never seen before. Pure, unguarded joy. He sets the frame down carefully before pulling me into his arms.
"Twins," he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. His hand moves to my stomach, protective and reverent. "Two Vitales."
"God help us all," I laugh.
"You've given me everything," he murmurs against my hair. "A family. A future."
At this moment, all my doubts about our unconventional life fade away. Two babies. One criminal empire. And a love that defies all the rules.
Several hours later, I stand before a mirror, smoothing my hands over the emerald green dress that Dom insisted brings out my eyes.
In less than an hour, we'll be heading to Don Ferraza's mansion for the La Corona Christmas gathering. My first official appearance as Dom's fiancée.
"They already like you," Dom says, appearing behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist, his hands resting protectively over where our twins grow. "Stop worrying."
Easy for him to say. He was born into this world. I spent my career trying to dismantle it.
"I shot a federal agent two weeks ago and now I'm celebrating Christmas with the most powerful mafia families in New York," I say, leaning back against him. "Forgive me if I'm a little anxious."
Dom kisses my neck. "You're overthinking it. Besides, Elena has practically adopted you already."
He's right about that. Last week, Elena insisted on taking me shopping, declaring my wardrobe "too FBI" for family functions.
Isabella and Gabriella joined us, and I was surprised by how quickly they welcomed me into their circle.
Over lunch at a restaurant that definitely wasn't in my FBI expense account range, they shared stories about navigating life as women connected to La Corona.
"The first time is always intimidating," Isabella had confided, squeezing my hand. "I was terrified when I married Roman. But they protect their own fiercely."
Gabriella nodded in agreement. "And the Christmas party is actually fun. Don Ferraza goes all out, live music, incredible food. He’s as old as dirt, but he knows how to have a good time."
“That’s my dad you’re talking about,” Isabella says, shaking her head. “He wasn’t that fun when I was growing up.”
I used to pity women like Elena, Isabella, and Gabriella. I always assumed they were victims of circumstance, lacking agency in their own lives.
How wrong I was.
These women are forces of nature. Gabriella has a law degree and works for both the Calabresi and Monti family businesses.
Elena volunteers at several children’s charities.
Isabella launched a boutique fashion label. They're educated, opinionated, and fiercely independent.
Their acceptance meant more than I expected.
"You look like you're solving a case," Dom says, interrupting my thoughts.
"Just realizing how much the Bureau gets wrong about your world," I admit. "Especially about the women."
What strikes me most is how their values mirror my own.
We all believe in protecting family at any cost.
The difference is in our methods, not our motivations. Family above all. Justice for those we love. Protection of the innocent.
Perhaps Dom was right all along. The line between us was never as wide as I believed.
"Ready?" Dom asks now, handing me my coat.
I take a deep breath and nod. Today, I step fully into my new life, not as Agent Ricci, but as Olivia, future wife of Don Dominic Vitale.
Don Ferraza's mansion is something straight out of a holiday movie.
A grand marble staircase wrapped in garlands, crystal chandeliers draped with delicate silver snowflakes, and a Christmas tree that must be twenty feet tall dominating the main hall.
The scent of cookies and mulled wine fills the air, mingling with the sound of a string quartet playing traditional carols.
I expected formality and tension. Instead, I find warmth.
"You made it!" Elena rushes over, baby Gianna on her hip. She kisses my cheek before whispering, "Dom told us your news. Twins! I'm so excited for you both."
Before I can respond, Rocco, Elio, and Adalina swarm around us, chattering about Santa and presents.
Rocco tugs at my hand. "You saved me from the bad man last year.”
"I did," I say, crouching to his level. "I helped find you."
“You’re like a superhero.”
I laugh. "Well, I don’t know about that.”
Dom rests his hand on my shoulder. "I do.”
Marco Calabresi approaches with his wife Gabriella, their daughter Sabina nestled in her arms. I tense slightly. Only Roman is more skeptical about my place in their world.
"Merry Christmas, Olivia," he says, surprising me with his warmth.
“Merry Christmas.”
Gabriella winks at me. "Those Vitale genes, eh? It’s not enough to have one baby, you have to have two or three at a time.”
I laugh.
Across the room, Roman stands with Isabella, his arm protectively around her waist as she laughs with Leonardo Ferraza.
Their daughter Angelica is showing something to Isabella's father, who listens with exaggerated interest. Their son Leo is on the floor next to them enthralled with a train set.
Luca and Gabriella’s father, Antonio Monti sits with Luca. His eyes are bright, taking in the joy of the season.
“He doesn’t know any of us anymore,” Gabriella says with sadness. “But he still enjoys being with us.”
Not long ago, I looked at all these people as criminals to be brought down.
Now I see fathers doting on children, wives teasing husbands, cousins sharing inside jokes.
They're a family, bound by something stronger than blood or business.
"Feeling overwhelmed?" Dom asks quietly.
"The opposite," I admit. "I feel... like I belong."
And it's true.
For the first time since my father died, I'm surrounded by people who understand loyalty and sacrifice.
Who would do anything to protect their own.
Dom's fingers intertwine with mine. "You do belong. With me. With us."