Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask

Dominic’s POV

The poker game at Jude’s penthouse was Xavier’s suggestion—a way to lift Jude’s spirits after Nora had fled the city following a territory dispute. I only showed up because Jude had stood by me through countless family wars, and loyalty demanded I return the favor. But my mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of returning to Gemma and the fortress we called home.

As cards were dealt around the mahogany table, I found myself unable to concentrate on the game. Something gnawed at my instincts, that sixth sense every made man develops to survive in our world. Vincenzo’s persistent calls weren’t helping my already frayed nerves. I let the first few ring through to voicemail, but when another call came, concern overrode annoyance. In our business, family emergencies could mean life or death.

"What is it, Vincenzo?" My voice carried the edge that made soldiers in our organization step carefully.

"Well hello to you too, uncle. I’m doing fantastic, thanks for your concern. How about you?" His sarcasm was thick whenever I answered him with the tone reserved for insubordinate foot soldiers.

"Cut the bullshit, kid. You sound healthy enough to me," I shot back, already questioning why I’d answered.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just wondering about something that’s been eating at me."

I pressed my fingers against my temple, feeling a headache building. "Vincenzo, learn to get to the fucking point instead of wasting my time with your roundabout approach."

"Alright, alright. I just got off the phone with Aunt Gemma, and I’m confused—since when do you plan romantic gestures for her without involving the whole family network?"

His words made no sense in the context of our organized world. "Vincenzo, I have no clue what the hell you’re talking about."

"Seriously, uncle? Are you suffering from brain damage or something?"

"Watch your goddamn mouth, kid!"

"I called Aunt Gemma to invite her to that new place downtown for dinner—" I cut him off before he could launch into one of his meandering family stories.

"Vincenzo, enough with the background bullshit. What’s your point?"

"Aunt Gemma told me she was meeting you tonight. Said you’d arranged some surprise and even sent her a single red rose with a handwritten card..."

Ice flooded my veins. In our world, red roses meant blood loyalty—or blood vengeance. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Christ, uncle, wake up!" Vincenzo’s voice turned urgent, the playful nephew disappearing as family alarm bells started ringing. "I called Aunt Gemma recently. She received a red rose with a card claiming to be from you, telling her to meet you at some hotel for a surprise. I thought it was strange because you always involve our security network when planning anything for her."

"Did she specify which hotel?" My heart hammered against my ribs like a prisoner trying to break free.

"No! Wait—it wasn’t you who sent that rose, was it?" Real fear crept into his voice now.

"No, it wasn’t. I need to locate Gemma immediately. I’ll contact you later."

I terminated the call, my hands trembling with a rage that could level buildings. Looking up, I realized my associates were already studying me with the sharp attention that kept them alive in our dangerous world. I immediately speed-dialed Gemma’s assigned bodyguard.

"Hunter, report your location," I commanded.

"At your residence, sir. Miss Gemma dismissed our detail after we escorted her to the hotel. She insisted you were waiting inside for her."

"Son of a bitch!" My fist connected with the poker table, sending chips scattering like shrapnel. "Which hotel, Hunter?"

"The Ambassador, sir. I’m already en route back to that location," Hunter replied, finally grasping the deadly implications.

"Did she mention a room number?"

"Negative, sir."

I ended the call and headed for the exit, but Daniel intercepted my path with the instincts of a man who’d seen too many crime scenes.

"We’re backing your play, but we need intel on what we’re walking into," he said, his detective training and family connections kicking into high gear.

"Gemma received a rose and note supposedly from me, directing her to meet at the Ambassador for some surprise."

"Let’s move. I’ll radio for backup units."

I rode shotgun while Daniel drove through the city streets like a man racing death itself, his police contacts clearing our path.

"Daniel, we need speed, but I’d prefer to arrive breathing," I muttered, gripping the door handle as we took another corner at dangerous velocity.

"Relax. We’re running code red now." He activated a switch, and suddenly sirens wailed from his unmarked vehicle, traffic parting before us like civilians fleeing a mob war.

When we finally screamed to a halt outside the hotel entrance, I felt my soul return from whatever hell it had been visiting. I silently thanked whatever saints protected our family and prayed we’d reach Gemma before it was too late. We stormed the reception desk, and before the clerk could recite hotel privacy policies, Daniel flashed his badge with the authority of someone who owned half the precinct.

Fifteenth floor. The elevator crawled upward, stopping at what felt like every floor as if the building itself was mocking our desperation. When we finally reached our destination, we spotted the door at the corridor’s end. Daniel didn’t hesitate—he kicked it open with the force of a man who’d breached countless doors, his service weapon already drawn.

The scene inside turned my blood to liquid nitrogen. Marcus—my exiled father—was pinning Gemma down as she fought with desperate fury to break free from his grip. Daniel grabbed the bastard by his collar and yanked him away, striking him in the skull with the butt of his gun.

"Stay on the ground where scum like you belongs," Daniel snarled with the venom reserved for the lowest forms of life.

I rushed to Gemma, gathering her shaking form in my arms. She collapsed against me, sobbing with the kind of raw terror that would haunt my nightmares forever. I lifted her up and carried her out while uniformed officers flooded in to arrest the piece of shit who shared my bloodline.

Xavier, Caleb, Jude, and Finn waited in the hallway like an honor guard. We descended to the lobby just as Hunter entered, guilt and failure written across his face. Without acknowledging anyone else, I carried Gemma to the car and climbed in, cradling her against my chest like she was made of precious glass.

Only when we were safely inside our armored vehicle did I ask, "Do you need medical attention?"

She shook her head against my neck, her tears soaking through my shirt.

"Dominic, forgive me. I believed it was you," she whispered, her voice shattered like broken crystal.

"Little bird, you should forgive me for not protecting you better." I pressed my lips to her forehead with infinite tenderness.

"How did you know to come?"

"Vincenzo called with concerns, so I contacted your security detail." I turned to address the driver. "Hunter, take us home to the compound."

Back at our fortified residence, I helped Gemma shower and settled her into our bed. Our housekeeper Maia prepared calming tea while I called Taylor, requesting he examine her immediately. He arrived quickly with my mother trailing behind. Soon after, Nadia and her household appeared, followed by our inner circle and even Brenda and Phoebe. Everyone wanted to help, to stand guard over family.

It would be a long night of vigilance, but she wouldn’t face it alone. In our world, family meant everything—and no one threatened family without paying in blood.