"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.
DOM
I wake to memories of last night with Olivia, warm, intoxicating, and dangerous as hell. I swear I can still inhale her scent even though I left her bed hours ago.
It makes me yearn to touch her again. I can’t seem to get enough of her.
I stretch, feeling the pleasant ache in my muscles from our rousing bout of sex.
The way she moved beneath me, above me, against me. The way her eyes locked with mine making me feel this wasn’t just physical anymore.
That's the problem. It's not just sex. Not anymore.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and press my palms against my eyes. What am I doing?
She's FBI. I'm a Don in La Corona.
We’re on a crash course to disaster.
Yet I keep going back. Keep finding reasons to see her. Keep imagining what it might be like if circumstances were different.
