Page 24 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

I head inside, letting out a sigh of relief as the familiar warmth greets me. The scent of cinnamon lingers in the air, thanks to the candle I forgot to blow out last night. My living room is the first thing you see when you walk in. It’s a cozy room with a plush gray couch and a coffee table covered in half-read books and yesterday’s mug of peppermint tea. The real showstopper is the Christmas tree in the corner.

I got it last week. While I’m aware it’s way too early for a tree, Christmas trees get more expensive the closer it gets to the holiday. I’ve already decorated mine with an almost obsessive attention to detail. Twinkling white lights, shiny red and gold ornaments, and a star on top that’s slightly crooked but charming in its imperfection. The whole room glows, even in the dim morning light.

I drop my bag by the door and head into the kitchen, where the countertops are spotless except for a single coffee mug by the sink. There’s a stack of Christmas cookie cutters on the counter—snowflakes, candy canes, and reindeer. I only just got them. I might not like to cook but baking Christmas cookies is a family tradition I never ignore.

Beside them, my laptop sits open, its screen still displaying the case files I was working on last night. I forgot to turn it off and leave it to me to disable the sleep option to boost productivity.

When I first got the house, I had a roommate, but she moved out after a year and I was already earning enough by then to pay for the house on my own. Now, the second bedroom serves as my home office, though “office” might be a generous term. It’s more of a storage space for stacks of files, an old cork board pinned with case notes, and a whiteboard covered in scribbled diagrams that only make sense to me and conspiracy theories I’ve developed in relation to cases. My job doesn’t exactly come with an off switch, and when there’s a dangerous criminal out there, I’m constantly thinking of ways to help catch them. Despite only being an intelligence analyst.

I head into my bedroom, which is my favorite place in the house. There’s a fluffy white comforter on my bed and fairy lights strung along the walls. It’s cozy, safe. There’s a plaid throw blanket draped over the foot of the bed and the scent of lavender from the diffuser on the dresser fills the air.

I let out a long breath, kicking off my sneakers and heading back to the kitchen to make a fresh cup of coffee. I have about an hour until I have to be at work. It’s a new week and I plan to start it fresh. No more thoughts of Dominic or the time I spent with him.

It’s over. I’m never going to see him again.

There’s a pep in my step as I walk into the office, armed with a smile and a Starbucks coffee cup. I offer one of my coworkers a smile and a wave as I head into the elevator. Someone slidestheir hand inside, stopping the doors from closing at the last moment.

“Hey gorgeous,” Kenny greets, entering the elevator and standing beside me.

“Hi, Kenny. How was your weekend?”

“It was alright. Yours?”

Let’s see… I was almost assaulted, then I woke up in a stranger’s bed, after he saved me and took me to his home. I also ended up sleeping with said stranger before practically running away from his home at five in the morning.

I have no idea why I ran. Or maybe I do and I just don’t want to admit I was scared. I’ve never felt like that after sex. He delivered on his promise, though. Dominic didn’t have sex with me—he fucked me. So hard that I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep with another man without remembering how he made me feel.

But I can’t keep thinking about that. It’s over. If I’m lucky, I’ll never cross paths with him again.

“My weekend was pretty boring, Kenny,” I reply. “I’m in the mood for excitement.”

He groans. “Don’t say that. We could get a new serial killer on our hands or some bullshit like that.”

I grin. “True. No excitement, then.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, though. Joshua texted me last night. We’re getting a new coworker.”

My brows furrow. “What? Why? An agent in the field or…?”

Kenny shrugs. “Couldn’t tell you. We’ll meet them at the morning brief.”

I huff out a breath. “Okay.”

The break room hums with the quiet shuffle of papers and low murmur of conversation. My Starbucks cup is cradled in my hands like a lifeline, the rich, warm scent keeping me sane as I try to focus on the notes in front of me.

Kenny leans over from his seat beside me, whispering something about how the office coffee tastes like burned regret. I snort softly, trying not to spill the cup in my hand.

“You’re just spoiled,” I whisper back, taking a sip. “You want artisanal coffee, go work for Google.”

He grins, but before he can respond, the door swings open with a creak and our boss strides in. Joshua looks like his usual self, tie slightly askew and hair slightly messy, but he still somehow pulls it off.

“Morning, everyone,” he announces. “I hope you’re all awake, because we’ve got a busy day ahead.”

I glance at the clock. It’s 8:05 a.m. Too early for whatever’s about to happen. I take another sip of my coffee, bracing myself for the rundown of our current case. But then Joshua steps aside and someone walks in behind him.

Someone I know.

The coffee in my mouth freezes mid-sip and my heart drops like a brick to the pit of my stomach. Because standing there in my workplace, wearing an impeccably tailored suit with his signature unbothered expression, is Dominic.

---