Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask

Dominic’s POV

The crushing weight of my catastrophic mistakes followed me as I walked away from Gemma’s safe house. She needed my protection, but her stubborn pride would never let her reach out first. I pulled out my encrypted phone and dialed Zoe’s secure line, knowing she would mobilize our entire network without hesitation.

"Dominic, you absolute disaster," Zoe’s voice cut through the phone before I could even explain the carnage I’d created. "You’re a complete liability, you know that?"

I hadn’t heard that particular insult used against a Capo in years, but she delivered it with surgical precision. Every word stung because it carried truth. My demons had won again. The toxic legacy my father Marcus left behind had poisoned another relationship, maybe permanently this time.

"Just get the girls to Gemma’s safe house," I managed to say through gritted teeth.

"Already coordinating with Ivy’s security detail," Zoe replied curtly. "But don’t think this conversation is over, Frost."

The line went dead, leaving me alone with the wreckage of my choices and the bitter taste of failure.

Soon after, my private compound became ground zero for an intervention I didn’t request but desperately needed. Xavier, Finn, and Jude showed up with enough high-end whiskey to stock a speakeasy and the kind of brutal honesty only blood brothers could deliver in this life.

"The girls are fortified at Gemma’s place with armed security tonight," Xavier announced, cracking open a bottle of aged bourbon. "Which means we’re stuck with your pathetic ass until you return to some semblance of sanity."

They weren’t gentle about it. Every stupid tactical decision got dissected, every fear I’d let compromise our operations got exposed, and every excuse I tried to make got shot down immediately. By the time we finished talking and drinking, the sun was rising over Port Serenity and my head felt like it might split open from the inside.

Dragging myself into Zenith Systems headquarters the next morning was an exercise in pure masochism. The digital clock showed well past ten, and I looked like I’d been through a territory war carrying nothing but regret and alcohol poisoning. My designer tie hung crooked, my tailored jacket dangled from one arm, and my hair defied every law of gravity and executive grooming standards.

My receptionist Mia took one look at me and shook her head with the kind of disappointment usually reserved for natural disasters and failed hits.

"Don’t say a word," I muttered, sliding dark sunglasses over my bloodshot eyes.

Making it to my executive office felt like crossing hostile territory in formal wear. Zoe was there, organizing intelligence files on my desk with the efficiency of someone who had mastered both corporate management and underground operations, unlike certain Capos who shall remain nameless.

"Well, well, look what the streets dragged in," Zoe’s voice hit my skull like a sledgehammer on concrete.

"Volume control, please," I whispered, collapsing into my leather chair.

She leaned closer, analyzing me like a forensic investigator. "Are you kidding me right now, Dominic? I specifically told you never to show up here compromised or hungover. You’re late, you smell like a distillery raid, and you look like you slept in an alley behind one of our collection points."

"Zoe, not today. Just tell me how Gemma is holding up."

"She’s secure. Actually, she’s going to catch a movie with Hunter this afternoon." The words came out casual, like she was discussing weather patterns instead of dropping a bomb on my territorial instincts.

My blood turned to ice water. "What did you just say?"

"I said you’re getting aspirin, black coffee, and a mandatory rest period on that couch until lunch. Then we’re going to pretend you’re a functioning Capo and handle some actual business." She kept talking like she hadn’t just declared war on my sanity.

I started to stand up, every protective instinct firing. "I’m going to intercept that situation right now."

Her hand slammed down on my shoulder, pushing me back into the chair with surprising force that reminded me she’d trained with our best enforcers. "You’re not going anywhere. Listen carefully because I’m only saying this once. Today, you’re going to leave Gemma alone. She’s going to enjoy her movie and have some normalcy. Tomorrow, you’re going to show up here sharp, punctual, and ready to run this operation properly. Are we crystal clear?"

"Zoe, do you seriously think I’m going to let my woman spend time with some civilian while there are still threats circulating? You’ve completely lost your tactical sense."

"I never lose my tactical sense, Dominic. And she’s not your woman anymore, remember? You threw that protection away when you decided to trust your paranoia instead of your judgment. Gemma is going to that movie, and you’re going to handle it like a professional."

She stormed out, leaving me staring at the ceiling and questioning every strategic choice that had led to this moment of complete powerlessness. When she returned, she carried a tray loaded with orange juice, two military-grade painkillers, and coffee strong enough to wake the dead from concrete shoes.

"Drink. Swallow. Sleep," she commanded, watching me comply like a drill sergeant monitoring a recruit.

The leather couch in my office had never felt so much like solitary confinement. But the forced rest actually helped stabilize my system, and when I woke up several hours later, the world had stopped spinning quite so violently. I headed to my private bathroom, grateful for the shower and fresh clothes I kept there for emergencies exactly like this strategic meltdown.

Feeling marginally human again, I walked to Zoe’s office and found Vincenzo lounging in a chair, chatting her up with his usual charm offensive that worked on everyone except family associates.

"Vincenzo, are you seriously trying to hit on my intelligence coordinator again?" I asked, getting his attention.

"Uncle, I’m wounded by your accusations," he said, placing a dramatic hand over his heart before turning back to Zoe with renewed focus. "Beautiful, I’m not hitting on you, but if you’re interested in some protection services, I’m absolutely available."

"You two are hopeless cases," I said, rolling my eyes while Zoe laughed despite herself. "Have you secured lunch yet?"

"I’m meeting Ruby and Lila to coordinate their relocation into Gemma’s apartment, and we need to finalize the security logistics because—"

"Hold on," I interrupted. "What relocation? What security arrangements?"

"Wow, Uncle Dominic, you’re really out of the intelligence loop here. Even I know Willow moved in with her boyfriend’s crew and left Gemma the whole safe house, so Gemma invited Ruby and Lila to be her new security roommates. They’re relocating this week," Vincenzo rattled off like he was reading from surveillance reports.

"Take a breath, information broker," Zoe teased him.

"And beautiful, if you need any heavy security work handled, I’m your man," Vincenzo added quickly.

My head was spinning again, but not from the hangover this time. The tactical implications were staggering. "When exactly did Willow relocate with her boyfriend’s protection?"

"The other night," they answered simultaneously.

"What other intelligence am I missing here?" I asked, watching Zoe’s expression shift slightly, like she was calculating whether to reveal classified information. "Zoe, what else don’t I know about our current situation?"

"That you’re an idiot who compromised himself with some random associate because you couldn’t trust the one person who actually had your back?" She looked at me with pure contempt that could cut glass.

"Zoe Miller, you better watch your—"

"Don’t you dare finish that threat, Dominic," she snapped, standing up and raising her voice with the authority of someone who’d earned respect in this world. "You’re already on my bad side, and if you push me even one inch further, I will make your operations a living hell until Gemma forgives you. And based on how catastrophically you screwed up, that might take several lifetimes to accomplish."

The threat wasn’t empty, and we both knew it. Zoe could be absolutely ruthless when she wanted to be, and right now, her loyalty clearly lay with Gemma’s protection rather than my comfort. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and counted slowly.

Was I actually intimidated by my own intelligence coordinator? Absolutely. Sometimes Zoe exhibited a level of calculated menace that would make professional interrogators nervous and enemy Capos think twice about crossing her path.