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Fear starts to creep in. "No! No, I swear!"
"Hm…" To my shock, he puts a thick finger under my chin and lifts my face to look him in the eyes. He must be 6'4, if not taller, and the cold fear mixes with something hot and liquid in my belly. "You don't look like a thief, but I've known beautiful thieves before."
His grip shifts to cup my jaw firmly, his other hand coming behind me to cup the back of my neck in his hand, fingers resting over my pulse point. "I'll ask you one more time, sweet Daisy. Did you steal from my son?"
"No, sir," I breathe, trying not to tremble. “I have a few thousand I’ve saved on my own from working, but it has nothing to do with Carlo.” His touch is setting me on fire, the warmth of his hands addictive. I can't read him, can't tell what's going on behind those glowing eyes.
"Mmm…" he hums, eyes narrowing, and I can't breathe, can't move.
"I believe you," he says finally, and relief washes over me. His touch changes, going from a hold to something more gentle, and his fingers run through my hair, pulling the band from my messy ponytail. "Your heart is beating like a rabbit, but it doesn't change when I ask. You're an honest girl. That's rare these days."
I have no idea what's happening. He's too close, the heat and scent of his body overwhelming me. But he's still holding me, and I can't move.
"But I do need a way to keep you safe," he continues, pulling his hands away and making me whimper at the loss of his touch. "So, Ms. Linden, here is what is going to happen. You're going to stay with me. In my home. Starting tonight."
2
DOMINIC
Mario hesitates in the doorway like he's unsure that I'll believe what he has to say.
"Out with it, Mario."
The host takes a breath, gathering his courage. "Mr. Falcone, there's a young lady here asking for you."
Of course. Another pointless fucking message. Why did I hire managers if everyone is just going to come to me with their problems anyway? "Tell her to come back tomorrow and she can talk to the hiring manager."
"It's not about a job, sir. She…ah...she says she has to speak to you about your son, Carlo."
I don't look up, but my hands freeze over the keyboard, a bolt of electricity shooting through my entire body. There's no reason to think anything serious is wrong. It could be anything, and yet, my body seems to know.
Carlo has fucked something up, and now it's going to be my responsibility to clean up his mess.
"Send her up."
"Right away, sir."
I finish the email and push back from my desk, running a hand through my hair. Something is telling me it's going to be a long night.
I haven't seen Carlo in years, and our parting was so terrible that I don't really feel much grief over the separation. Shame, sure, but as the Boss of the Falcone crime family, there was no way to make blacklisting my son anything but shameful.
Carlo was...unsatisfied, to say the least, with the fact that I was willing to let the family name and our violent, bloody history fade into obscurity. I've grown tired of the killing, tired of the blood on my hands. The family has more money than we can spend and funneling it towards Il Fiore Raro is infinitely more satisfying.
I'm 40 now, and the last few years have been more about protecting my business and my wealth and keeping things together, rather than starting trouble. It's not a peaceful life, but it might be. One day.
Carlo, however, has made it abundantly clear that he wants the excitement and danger of the underground criminal world. He's my only son, my only child, and a spoiled brat. He's always wanted everything, and I've always been able to give it to him, within reason. As he got older and realized that he was going to live a normal life and not the life of a mafia boss, the things he demanded from me became impossible to provide. I fully expected to pay for him to go to college, to make a decent man out of himself far away from the violence that haunts the Falcone family, but Carlo never wanted that. He wanted the money and the blood.
So, the moment he graduated high school, he tried to give me an ultimatum. ME. Dominic fucking Falcone. If I didn't pivot away from the restaurant and pick back up the lucrative crime life from before so Carlo could take over in a couple of years, he would disappear and there would be no son to carry on the family name.
The infuriating idiot. How could he not see that carrying on the family name wasn't worth it to me if it meant the name would be covered in blood?
Of course, there’s no way I’m giving up Il Fiore Raro, the restaurant that is my baby and has been in the making for years. It's the pride and joy of the Falcone family, and it's not something I was willing to give up. So I blacklisted Carlo, and the last time we spoke was when he packed up his bags and left, cursing me the entire time.
I was sad at first. Angry. Frustrated. But it's been years since then, and the ache of his absence has faded. It's better for him and for me.
Until today.
The knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts, and I sit up straighter, smoothing out the wrinkles on the front of my suit. "Come in."
