"It could be more." He reaches for my hand, but I pull it away. "Something has to give, Olivia. And since your work isn't safe for you anymore, maybe that's what needs to change."
"You want me to quit the FBI? For what—to be your mob girlfriend?" Anger flares deep in my gut. I will not give up who I am. What I am for anyone.
"I want you to be safe," he counters. "And happy. The FBI is neither for you right now."
"And you are?" I stand up, needing more than ever to get away. “I don't see you offering to change your line of work."
I stand too. "If it’s just sex, why would I change anything?” The hurt beneath his words is unmistakable, and guilt twists in my stomach. I've wounded him.
"Dom—"
"No, you're right." He steps back, creating distance between us. "We're just fucking. No reason to complicate that with feelings or a future."
I swear I can feel him retreating. “That’s the difference between you and me, Olivia. I am not my job. Being a businessman, or as you see it, a criminal, is who I am. I'm a man who protects what's his. Who would die for the people I care about. What I do is for family."
My throat tightens. "I value those things too."
His laugh is harsh. "No you don’t. The love for your beloved father has vanished because he’s not the knight in shining armor you made him out to be. From where I’m standing, you're nothing but FBI. It's not just your job, it's your entire identity.” He shrugs and makes a face of disgust. “Without that badge, who are you? You’re nobody.”
I feel like he’s reached into my soul and crushed it.
"Your father understood the difference between who he was and what he did. Between justice and a paycheck. Between protecting people and following rules."
"Don't bring him into this again," I warn.
"Why not? He's the reason we're here." Dom's eyes soften slightly. "He knew when to be a cop and when to be a man. When to follow orders and when to follow his conscience."
I turn away, unable to meet his gaze. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know exactly what I'm talking about." His hand catches my arm, gentle but firm. "The difference between us isn't that I'm a criminal and you're FBI. It's that I know who I am outside my work. I know what matters. Do you?"
The question is impossible to answer because I'm terrified he's right.
Without the FBI, who am I?
What's left?
DOM
I slam my glass down on the desk, watching amber liquid splash over the rim. The city lights blur beyond my window. Fuck!
Olivia Ricci. Even her name in my thoughts feels like a betrayal.
Without that badge, who are you? You’re nobody.
My cruel words echo back. I shouldn't have said that, but damn it, she pushed me there. Acting like what's between us is just convenient friction between sheets.
I can’t believe she walked out. She didn’t even look back. It took every ounce of will power not to follow her.
Not to stop her, but to protect her.
Let her go, I told myself, but I couldn’t.
Instead, I've stationed men in the building across from hers, another team rotating surveillance in parked cars.
Overkill? Maybe.
But Blackwood is still out there, and he's not the type to leave loose ends.
