“But the plan,” Dimitri starts, frustration bleeding into his tone.
“The plan ismineto execute or change as I see fit.” I cut him off sharply. “And I don’t recall asking for your input on the timeline, Dimitri.”
His face flushes, anger warring with the instinct to back down when his boss uses that particular tone. “I’m not questioning you, boss. I’m just saying the men are talking. Some of them are worried you’re getting too attached to the target. That personal feelings might be compromising the mission.”
“The men,” I say dangerously, “can worry about their own assignments. And if they have concerns about my decisions, they can bring them to me directly. Through the proper channels. Not through gossip and speculation.”
Dimitri’s jaw ticks, but he nods curtly.
“As for Giuliana—” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “What happens with her is none of your concern. None ofanyone’sconcern except mine. She’smywife, and how I choose to handle that relationship isn’t subject to committee review. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Dimitri says obediently, but there’s something simmering beneath the word. Resentment, maybe. Or just frustration that the plan he’s invested three years in is suddenly subject to my personal complications.
“Good.” I shift my attention to Danny, who’s been unusually quiet through this exchange. “Antonio Conti is a different matter.”
That gets Dimitri’s attention. He looks between me and Danny.
“Antonio’s betrayal still demands justice,” I continue. I thought about this for far too long and even though Antonio wasn’t the one who ended Marco’s life, he still contributed to it. And that still deserves punishment. “Marco’s death still requires an answer. But the execution”—I let the word hang in the air deliberately—“needs to be handled carefully.”
“How carefully?” Dimitri asks, and I can hear the eagerness in his voice.
“Antonio will meet his end,” I say, steepling my fingers together. “But it needs to look natural. A heart attack. A complication from his previous injuries. Something that allows for closure without—” I stop, not wanting to reveal too much. “Something that doesn’t create additional complications.”
Danny’s expression shifts to something that might be relief or concern, it’s hard to tell. Dimitri just looks skeptical.
“You want to make it look like an accident,” Dimitri says slowly. “So the wife doesn’t know it was you.”
I don’t confirm or deny, just hold his gaze until he looks away first.
“When?” Dimitri presses. “When do we move on Antonio?”
“Soon.” I keep my answer deliberately vague. “I’m arranging for Giuliana to see him first. One visit, supervised. Then we’ll handle the situation.”
“Why let her see him at all?” Dimitri’s frustration is evident now, his tattooed hands flexing where they grip the chair arms. “Why give her that closure before?—”
“BecauseI’mtelling you to.” My voice drops to that quiet register that means violence is coming, and this time Dimitri recognizes the danger. “Because it’s not your decision to make. I don’t answer to you about how I choose to manage my own operations.”
The room goes silent. Danny shifts slightly in his peripheral vision, ready to intervene if this escalates further.
“Understood, boss,” Dimitri finally says, but I can hear the anger underneath. “Is that all?”
“One more thing.” I lean forward, making sure both men are paying attention. “Giuliana is completely off-limits. To you, to the men, to everyone in this organization. Anyone who touches her, threatens her, or makes her feel unsafe in any way answers to me personally. And trust me”—I let them see the cold fury in my eyes—“you don’t want that conversation. She’s mine to do as I see fit.”
Dimitri’s teeth grind together so loudly I can hear them, but he nods. “Understood.”
“Good,” I say, satisfied. “You’re dismissed.”
He stands, his movements tight with barely controlled frustration, and stalks toward the door. Danny starts to follow, shooting me a concerned look.
They’re almost to the door when Danny stops abruptly.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and there’s something in his voice that makes every muscle in my body go tense.
I’m on my feet in an instant, rounding my desk in three strides to see what’s stopped him.
Gigi.
She’s standing in the hallway just outside my office door, a tray with coffee balanced in her hands. But that’s not what makes me freeze. It’s her face—absolutely white, brown eyes wide with shock and something that looks like soul-deep betrayal. And from the way she’s unmoving there, from the horror written in every line of her expression, it’s clear she heard everything.
