Page 112 of Savage Don's Captive

So, when we got to New York, I headed straight for the FBI office with the evidence in hand. The moment I walked in, they had someone talking to me. I knew I had to play the part—the grieving daughter looking for justice. That meant turning on the waterworks, and lucky for me, my hormones did half the work. If there’s one thing men hate, it’s a woman in tears. Makes them uncomfortable. Makes them want to fix things. And that was exactly what I needed.

I show them the envelope and weep about how I always had a feeling that something was suspicious about my mother’s death. I even brought my medical records from when I was young that showed Dissociative Amnesia caused by trauma to help my story be plausible about why I didn’t speak about it sooner. And when they asked me where my father is, no lie has to be made—that he and I haven’t spoken for almost a year.

“It was smart of you to come straight here, Ms. Russo,” the FBI officer says, flipping through the files. “Marco Russo was an influential officer. If he had friends in the bureau, they would’ve buried this.”

“Are you aware your father is backing a RICO case against the mob?” another officer chimes in.

“No, I haven’t spoken to him in over a year? I don’t even know where he is. I bow my head, shaking in disbelief. He was never the same after my mother died. Well—after he killed her.”

More tears. More sobs. I don’t even have to try. It’s almost too easy. And just like that, I’m dismissed. The officer buys every word.

How do I know? Because within days, everything smooths out. Business resumes like nothing happened. And Dominic… thanks to me, he pulls off the impossible.

A few days later, we get the call—he’s being made.

The ceremony is quick, more private than I expected. Just The Commission and Dominic’s brothers. Luca’s missing, though. He’s been AWOL for over a month now, but Dominic’s too preoccupied to go looking.

“Luca always does this,” Dominic says when I ask. “He’ll show up out of nowhere with a new haircut or some bullshit.”

I let it go. But then, two nights ago, I overheard a call that made my stomach drop.

“What do you mean she’s still with Grimaldi?” Dominic hisses into the phone, voice low, dangerous. “Luca needs to stand down. Emmanuel Grimaldi isn’t someone you fuck with.”

Gabriella Giovani. She’s patched me up more times than I’d like to admit. That’s the woman Luca obviously has a thing for. From what I understand, she’s promised to Emmanuel Grimaldi, the one rumored to have ties to the Russian mob.

But I don’t bother getting into it... Dominic has enough on his plate, and the last thing he needs is me questioning Luca’s whereabouts. But something tells me this isn’t just Luca pulling one of his disappearing acts. And now, with Dominic stepping into his new role, any wrong move could trigger a war.

“Please never let Rosaria cook salmon again,” I say, popping another breath mint into my mouth. “Pretty sure that’s what set it off this time.”

“Got it,” Dominic nods. “No fish. Ever. Banned from the house starting tonight.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Fish getting banned?”

“No.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Home.”

His expression softens, just a little. “Me too, Alessandra.”

Dominic moves closer, lowering himself onto the floor beside me. With our backs pressed against the cool tile wall and the toilet nearby—not the most romantic setting—he settles in like it’s nothing. Like sitting on the bathroom floor with me, post-vomit, is exactly where he’s supposed to be. I lean my head against his shoulder, inhaling that familiar mix of cologne and cigarette smoke, and just like that, the nausea fades a little. Replaced by something warmer. Something that feels an awful lot like home.

“Crazy, huh?” he mutters after a beat. “All the shit we’ve been through, and here we are. Sitting in a bathroom.”

“And we’re about to have a baby.”

“That too.” He chuckles, but there’s something off in his voice. A tightness.

I lift my head, studying him. “What is it?”

His jaw flexes. He hesitates. “Fabio pulled me aside earlier. The Grimaldis are getting restless. Emmanuel thinks we had something to do with Gabriella going missing.”

My stomach drops. “Missing? I thought she was with him.”

“She was. Until three days ago.” His eyes meet mine, dark and serious. “Same day Luca was spotted back in New York.”

I swallow hard. The unspoken words hang heavy between us. If Luca took her—if he crossed Emmanuel Grimaldi… we’re allfucked. Not just him. Not just Dominic. Our entire family. Our baby.

A thick silence settles between us. I let it sit, let it wrap around us like a quiet embrace, but my mind is racing. My eyes flick down to Dominic’s hand—the fresh bandage wrapped around his palm. A reminder of what he swore today. A blood oath that bound him tighter to this world. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even acknowledge the wound. He takes it like he takes everything else. Like he was built for this.

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