Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask

Dominic’s POV

I couldn’t figure out how to make Gemma forgive me anymore. Weeks had dragged by like this in the suffocating atmosphere of our famiglia’s compound. What kind of fool was I to fall for Beatrix’s manipulative games that nearly cost us a crucial alliance with the eastern territories? But I had to find some way back to her. I couldn’t just let Gemma slip away from me, not when she meant everything to our family’s future and to my own survival in this blood-soaked world.

Yesterday at Thorne’s fortress, seeing her again hit me like a punch to the gut. She looked absolutely stunning in that black dress that hugged her curves, more radiant than ever despite the danger that constantly surrounded us all. But the moment I walked through those heavily guarded doors, she bolted like she’d seen a ghost. That’s how it always went now. Every time our paths crossed at family gatherings or territory meetings, she’d vanish before I could even get a word out, leaving me standing there like some pathetic street soldier who’d lost his nerve.

"Dominic, snap out of it! Are you even listening to me?" Zoe’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts as she snapped her fingers inches from my nose. Her tone carried that familiar edge that came from years of navigating the treacherous waters of our criminal underworld.

"Sorry, Zo. My mind was somewhere else," I muttered, straightening up in the leather chair behind my mahogany desk. The office overlooked our legitimate construction business that served as a front for the family’s more lucrative ventures.

Zoe sat across from me, supposedly updating me on yesterday’s sit-down with the other families that I’d sent her to handle in my place. For weeks now, I’d been completely useless at managing our operations, my concentration shot to hell while rival families circled like vultures, sensing weakness.

"Listen, Dominic, if you can’t handle running your crew, then step aside. Either you get your act together and start acting like a real capo, or I’m walking away from this mess," Zoe said, leaning back with her arms crossed. She’d grown up in this life just like the rest of us, knew better than anyone that showing weakness in our world was a death sentence.

"Maybe you should just take over the territory," I said without thinking, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

"Are you out of your mind?" Her eyes went wide with disbelief, and I could see the genuine concern beneath her anger. "You think the old men would accept a woman running things? They’d have both our heads mounted on pikes before sunset."

"I’m serious. You could handle the legitimate businesses, at least for now, while I figure out how to fix my life," I explained, voicing the thought that had been eating at me for days. The family’s patience with my current state was wearing thin, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before someone decided I was more liability than asset.

"What kind of pathetic excuse for a made man are you turning into?" Zoe’s hands clenched in her lap as she stared me down with the intensity of someone who’d survived more than one assassination attempt. "Get it together, Dominic. You want one day to wallow? Fine. But that’s it. No more. In our world, weak men don’t just lose respect—they lose their lives."

"Zo, I can’t stop thinking about Gemma. It’s destroying me from the inside out," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper in case the walls had ears. Even in our own territory, paranoia was a survival skill.

"Here’s the truth, Dominic. Weak men abandon everything when things get tough. And women in our families despise weak men more than they fear bullets," Zoe’s voice was brutally honest, cutting through my self-pity like a blade. "If you want any chance of winning Gemma back, you need to prove you’re still the soldier she fell for. Look at yourself right now. You’re a disaster. Stubble covering your face like some street junkie, hair that looks like you cut it with a knife, wrinkled shirt that screams desperation, crooked tie that wouldn’t pass muster at a funeral home wake. I’m starting to wonder if you even bother showering anymore. You’ve turned into a walking advertisement for failure, and Gemma will never respect you again if you keep this up."

"What am I supposed to do, Zo? I feel dead inside," I said, dropping my head onto the cool surface of my desk, the weight of family expectations and territorial responsibilities crushing down on me.

"You’re a complete wreck. First, we’re getting real food in you, because all you’ve been doing is drowning yourself in whiskey like some common drunk," Zoe grabbed my arm and hauled me up with surprising strength. "Come on. We’re leaving now, and you’re going to start remembering what it means to be a man of our family."

Minutes later, we sat at a corner table in the Italian bakery that had been paying protection money to our family for generations. The elderly owner treated us like royalty, bringing out plates of fresh antipasto, prosciutto sandwiches, cannoli still warm from the oven, plus strong espresso and fresh-squeezed blood orange juice. Zoe watched me like a hawk, making sure I actually ate while we talked about salvaging what remained of my reputation.

"So tell me, what do you do when you’re not pretending to manage your crew?" Zoe asked, tearing into a piece of focaccia with practiced efficiency.

"Recently?" I asked, and she nodded grimly. "I drink myself into oblivion at whatever safe house will have me. When I’m not passed out somewhere, I’m at that dive bar near the docks that Xavier owns. But I always stop by Thorne’s compound first to check on the alliance negotiations."

"Those Thorne kids are incredible, aren’t they?" Zoe’s whole face lit up talking about the next generation of one of our most powerful allied families. "And that boy Max is getting sharp as his old man—scary smart for someone so young."

"Max looks exactly like Caleb did at that age," I smiled for the first time in days, remembering my old friend before the weight of leadership had settled on his shoulders. "Thorne was always the sharpest guy in our crew, quick-witted and charming as hell. It wasn’t until his parents got blown up in that car bombing that he became this cold, calculating boss. Then Ivy showed up and reminded him he was still human."

"They’re absolutely perfect together," Zoe beamed with happiness for her friend, her expression softening in a way that was rare in our brutal world.

"You and Finn have that same magic," I pointed out, referring to her relationship with one of Xavier’s most trusted soldiers. "That’s what I want, Zo. That kind of deep, lasting partnership that can survive bullets and betrayals."

"But Dominic, relationships in our world don’t just happen by accident. They’re built through blood, sweat, and constant vigilance. Love isn’t enough on its own when people are trying to kill you both. You need absolute loyalty, unshakeable trust, the willingness to die for each other without hesitation, and the strength to rule together when necessary," Zoe explained carefully, her voice taking on the wisdom of someone who’d learned these lessons the hard way. "Every relationship in our families faces life-and-death tests regularly. Territory wars, family vendettas, police raids—they all come up constantly, and you have to face them as a unit. Most importantly, you need to be with someone whose weaknesses you can protect, and whose strengths complement your own when the shooting starts."

"That makes sense," I nodded, sipping my espresso slowly and feeling the caffeine begin to clear the fog from my brain. "Zo, how do I get Gemma back?"

"First rule: don’t give up yet, because in our world, giving up means accepting defeat permanently. Second rule: become the Dominic she fell for in the first place. Confident, well-groomed, commanding respect from your soldiers and fear from your enemies." Zoe placed her warm hand over mine, her touch steady and reassuring. "You see, Dominic, you have to be strong enough to protect yourself before you can protect anyone else. And in our business, protection is everything."

"I get it," I replied, staring down at the table and feeling something like hope stirring in my chest for the first time in weeks.

"Perfect, because we’re both taking the rest of the day off. I’m dragging you to get a complete makeover and new wardrobe that says ’dangerous man in control’ instead of ’pathetic has-been.’ Tomorrow morning, you’re going to sit in that office and run your territory like the capo you were born to be. After that, I’ll help you win Gemma back using every dirty trick I know." Zoe spoke like a general planning a military campaign, which in our world, wasn’t far from the truth.

"You’ll actually help me win her back? Or will you sabotage me like you did with Thorne when he was chasing Ivy?" I asked suspiciously, remembering how she’d played both sides of that particular war.

"What are you talking about?" Zoe looked genuinely confused, though in our business, innocent expressions were often carefully practiced lies.

"When Caleb was desperately trying to get Ivy back after that whole exile disaster, you promised to help him track her down. But you were really just keeping your girlfriend informed about his every move so she could stay one step ahead," I reminded her.

"Oh right, that!" Zoe’s face broke into a mischievous grin that reminded me why she’d survived this long in a world that chewed up and spat out the weak. "But this time I’m really going to help you. I believe you’re truly sorry for whatever stupidity you pulled with Beatrix. Besides, if you hurt Gemma again, I’ll personally ensure you wake up wearing concrete shoes at the bottom of the harbor."

"Christ, Zoe, don’t even joke about that. Just thinking about it makes me want to check my life insurance policy."

"Then don’t screw up again, you cheating bastard," Zoe laughed with genuine warmth, the sound carrying both affection and lethal promise.

We finished our meal and headed out to execute Zoe’s transformation plan, while somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered if this time would be different, if I could really become the man Gemma deserved in this dangerous world we both called home.