“You’re kidding? If the Belinis don’t run Northam, the Mancinos sure do.”
“Bigger fish to fry—they’ll come next. The Belinis are my appetizer.”
Brenda slips into talks about the threats being made against our office since the verdict. The mayor’s ordered increased security at city hall to ensure nothing life-threatening happens. It’s not long before I’m tuning out.
None of these things concern me. If I were scared of criminals, I wouldn’t have followed in Dad’s footsteps. Being on their radar is par for the course if you’re doing your job right. Unlike many in high profile positions in Northam, I can’t be bought. I can’t be intimidated. They can’t make me go away, and they know it. The second you let them get to you is the second you let them dictate your life.
I dismiss Brenda’s concerns with a wave of my hand. “Let Hector Belini come after me. It’ll give me ammo to prosecute his ass too.”
Brenda giggles. “Can I be you when I grow up? Because life’s not fair.”
The afternoon passes with us digging into other charges to bring up against various members of the Belini organization. Half past five, Brenda stands and stretches.
“If I read one more file about the Belinis, I’m going to scream. Probably a sign it’s time for me to go have cocktails at Luxe. Mariette and Carlos are joining me. Coming?”
“Have one for me,” I say without even looking up from my laptop. Brenda gathers her things and wishes me a good night.
It should probably offend me she’s assuming I’ll be here all night, but can I get mad at something so on point? Most evenings, Idowork late into the night. I’m the last one to leave the building, the cleaning crew long gone.
Some would say it’s sad for a thirty-year-old single woman to focus on nothing but her career in her life. Instead of men and relationships headed toward marriage and kids, I’m holed up in my office, working on case files. But my career goals are finally happening. I don’t have time for men and the headaches they bring.
Most of my relationships have been a disaster in some form or another. I’d play the dedicated girlfriend role only to be caught off guard when the relationship suddenly ran its course. After my last one—a two year long relationship with an investment banker—went up in smoke only weeks after getting engaged, I decided men were a waste of my time.
My career dream of becoming district attorney is so much more important.
I put on some lo-fi ambient music and wind my silky black tresses into an updo. Another office habit of mine. It’s easier to think without heels and your hair brushing your shoulders. I make myself some cappuccino and then stroll through my office sipping and reading case notes.
The view from my office window overlooks sky scrapers, glittering lights, and bustling downtown streets. Many citizens are out and about to enjoy themselves for the night. Other, less law-abiding ones are roaming around too, out on the prowl. No rest for the wicked. Even less for the good guys who hold them accountable. I can’t stop even if I wanted to—the streets of Northam depend on me.
I’m lost in thought, staring out the window, watching the toy-sized cars race down traffic lanes. Footsteps pad behind me, approaching my office door. At this time in the evening, it’s typically the cleaning crew.
“Oh, no thank you. You don’t need to vacuum tonight—”
The end of my sentence drops off as I peer into the window’s glass and catch the reflection behind me. I spin around with the air stalling in my lungs.
It’s not the cleaning crew standing in my office doorway. It’s a face I haven’t seen in person in over ten years—Salvatore Mancino, mafia crime boss…andthe first love of my life.
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“I hope you don’t mind,”Salvatore says, hands stowed in his pants pockets. “I tried to get on your calendar sooner, but your personal assistant kept hanging up on me.”
“What are you doing here?” I choke out.
Oxygen runs on short supply. When I try for an inhale, my lungs draw on nothing. Dizziness rushes me so swiftly, the room spins. I almost drop my mug of cappuccino, but manage to set it down on my desk instead. My hand busies itself with the rose pendant necklace I wear, a habit of mine whenever caught off guard.
Right now would be a great time to wake from my nightmare. Seconds pass, and it plays on, telling me this is no dream—it’s as real as real gets.
Salvatore Mancino might hold the titles of mafia boss and first boyfriend in my dating catalogue, but his most important title is the last person I’d want to see in the world. Years ago, after our relationship ended, I busied myself with college. I’d gone to Dupoint, one of the most prestigious Ivy Leagues in the country. The rigorous course load helped me get over him in time.
When I returned to Northam years later as a young and bright assistant DA, Salvatore had worked his way up the family food chain. He’d carried on his father’s brutal legacy, and served as acaporegimein the organization (if rumors are to be believed). Luckily, he’d been sent off to a neighboring city, which meant our paths haven’t yet crossed. Not directly.
So what’s he doing here after all these years? Does this mean he’s been reassigned to Northam?
Here’s the thing about the mafia; they’re good at what they do. Too good.
Nothing has ever stuck against the Mancino family. No charges land. No arrests last. No amount of policing and surveilling pays off. My father had tried tirelessly for decades to take down their kingpin, Lucius Mancino.
He’d never succeeded.