Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask

Dominic’s POV

We pulled into the animal shelter parking lot in the armored SUV, and I could immediately see Carmen’s excitement radiating from the backseat. As we walked through the entrance, I instinctively scanned the area for potential threats while watching her expression shift between pure joy and heartbreak at seeing so many abandoned animals. She moved slowly between the kennels, her small fingers reaching through the reinforced bars to pet the eager puppies that rushed forward, desperate for attention.

The place reminded me too much of the holding cells we used for interrogations, but I pushed that thought aside. This was supposed to be a normal family outing, something Gemma had been insisting we needed more of since she’d become part of our circle.

When we reached the last kennel, Carmen stopped abruptly. There, lying alone at the back like a prisoner in solitary confinement, was a massive dog with the saddest eyes I’d ever seen. He had drooping ears and short black fur with a distinctive white patch running from between his eyes down to his snout. One paw was completely white, like he’d stepped in paint.

"Can we go inside?" Carmen asked the caretaker, her voice barely above a whisper. The man hesitated, glancing at me with recognition—probably knew who I was, what family I represented. When I nodded, he opened the gate. Carmen crawled toward the back without any fear, something that both impressed and terrified me. In our world, that kind of trust could get you killed.

The dog watched her approach with his massive head tilted, probably weighing whether this small human was a threat. Carmen gently stroked his fur and leaned in to whisper something in his ear that I couldn’t catch. The dog sniffed her cautiously before slowly rising to his feet, towering over her like a bodyguard. When Carmen backed out of the kennel, he followed right behind her, already sworn to protect.

"This is the one, Uncle Dominic!" Carmen declared, wrapping her thin arms around the dog’s thick neck. He was enormous compared to her—standing higher than her waist—but incredibly gentle as he licked her face, causing her to burst into delighted giggles. The sound made something tight in my chest loosen. "What’s his name?"

"That’s Caviar," the shelter worker explained, clearly nervous under my watchful gaze. "He’s still young. Been here since birth when his mother’s owner couldn’t find homes for the litter. Despite his size, he’s incredibly gentle. Actually, he’s one of our longest residents."

The name was fitting—expensive taste, just like everything else in our family. I felt obligated to point out the obvious issue. "Carmen, your mother specifically asked for a small dog. Caviar is..." I gestured at the beast, but immediately regretted my words when Carmen’s eyes welled up with tears that could melt titanium. Even the damn dog seemed to glare at me with disappointment. They had clearly formed an unbreakable bond, the kind you couldn’t fake or force.

I sighed, already dreading the phone call with Nadia. She was going to have my head for this. "We’ll take Caviar."

Carmen’s face lit up like Christmas morning in a world where Christmas actually meant something pure. I turned around to find Vincenzo and Gemma playing with another large dog—this one with beautiful caramel-colored fur that bounced around like he was high on cocaine.

"Absolutely not," I protested, using my Capo voice. "Your mother will have me sleeping with the fishes if I bring home two dogs."

Gemma approached me with that mischievous smile that always meant trouble, the kind that made hardened soldiers question their loyalty. "You know, handsome, I’ve always dreamed of having a dog of my own."

"Gemma..." I tried to resist, but then she deployed her secret weapon—that slight pout of her perfect lips that could make me agree to burn down city hall if she asked nicely enough.

The caretaker, sensing an opportunity, jumped in like a used car salesman. "This is Amber. He’s been with us for some time after we rescued him from the highway. We estimate he’s still quite young. Very friendly but high-energy."

I looked helplessly at the shelter worker, a man who probably had no idea he was witnessing a Capo being systematically dismantled by his own family. "You can see I don’t have much choice here, right?" The man chuckled knowingly, probably thinking this was just normal family dynamics instead of a complete overthrow of my authority.

"Fine. We’ll adopt both Caviar and Amber."

"So I’m the only one not getting a dog?" Vincenzo complained, looking genuinely wounded by this perceived injustice.

"Do you want your mother to put a hit out on me?" I asked him, only half-joking.

"I wouldn’t mind having a dog," Vincenzo mused, and I was momentarily horrified that I might lose my position as his favorite uncle to a four-legged competitor. "Please, Uncle Dominic, look how small he is. Mom won’t even notice."

"Absolutely not, Vincenzo," I said firmly, trying to channel the authority that made grown men confess their sins.

But then Vincenzo led me to the first kennel where a tiny white furball sat looking up at us with the kind of expression that could guilt a hitman into donating to charity. The creature couldn’t have been more than twelve inches tall, with dingy white fur that stuck out in all directions like he’d been electrocuted. His pink tongue hung slightly out of his mouth, giving him an oddly endearing appearance.

"Vincenzo, that might be small now, but it’s going to grow into something that requires its own zip code," I warned.

"Actually," the shelter manager interjected, clearly sensing another sale, "Popcorn is fully grown. He’s been with us for quite some time. He’s very quiet, rarely barks, and quite easygoing."

"Is it just coincidence that all these animals have food names?" I asked, genuinely puzzled by this development.

The manager laughed. "The ones your family chose happen to have food names, but we have all sorts of names here. So, will you be adopting Popcorn too?"

I looked at the three expectant faces around me—both human and canine—and realized I was completely outmaneuvered. In the boardroom, I could negotiate million-dollar laundering operations, but here I was being defeated by puppy-dog eyes and family loyalty.

"Do I really have any choice left? Yes, we’ll take all three. But let’s move fast before they find more animals to adopt. Nadia is going to murder me in my sleep." The thought made me break into a cold sweat, which only made the shelter worker laugh harder.

"Yaaay!" The chorus of cheers from Gemma, Carmen, and Vincenzo was echoed by excited barks from our new furry family members.

The rest of the day disappeared in a whirlwind of activity that rivaled planning a major operation. First, the veterinarian confirmed all three dogs were healthy, neutered, and had current vaccinations. He recommended specific food brands and care instructions like he was briefing us on sensitive intelligence.

Then we headed to what I naively expected to be a simple pet store but turned out to be more like a luxury boutique for canines. Before long, our new family members were outfitted with leather collars that cost more than most people’s monthly rent, matching leashes, an arsenal of toys, and even tiny clothing—complete with bow ties and berets that made them look like miniature wise guys ready for a family meeting.

We loaded the SUV with luxury crates, matching gold-trimmed food and water bowls, and beds that looked more comfortable than most hotel suites. These shelter dogs had definitely hit the jackpot, about to transition from concrete kennels to the kind of lifestyle that most humans could only dream of.

As we drove home through our protected territory, I couldn’t help but wonder how exactly I was going to explain to Nadia that her simple request for one small dog had somehow escalated into a full-scale adoption operation involving three animals—two of which definitely qualified as weapons of mass destruction in terms of size.

I was definitely a dead man walking.