ROMAN'S POV
The girl had no idea what she'd just agreed to.
I watched Mia Sterling try to keep her breathing steady as my driver navigated through Manhattan traffic. She sat rigid in the backseat beside me, staring straight ahead like she could be herself somewhere else. Smart enough to be afraid. Stupid enough to be here anyway.
"The dinner is with Marco Vitelli," I said. "My cousin and consigliere. He handles the legitimate side of the businesses."
"And the illegitimate side?"
I almost smiled. "Direct. I like that. Marco manages everything. He'll be skeptical of you."
"Because I'm a journalist."
"Because you're a complication." I pulled out my phone, scrolling through messages. "Marco thinks bringing you into the family business is reckless. He's not wrong."
"Then why are you doing it?"
I looked at her. "Because you were going to write about me regardless. This way, at least I know what you're seeing."
"Control."
"Survival." I corrected. "In my world, information is currency. People who control information live longer."
She turned to face me fully for the first time since we'd gotten in the car. "Is that why you killed your father?"
The question hung between us. Tony, my head of security in the front seat, tensed. Even my driver's shoulders stiffened.
"Careful, Mia." My voice dropped. "There are questions you can ask in private, and questions that will get you hurt if the wrong person hears them."
"But you're not denying it."
"I'm not confirming it either." I put my phone away. "You want to understand my world? First lesson: some truths are dangerous. Speaking them out loud makes you a target."
"So you did kill him."
"I said careful." This time there was anger laced in my voice. "You're testing boundaries. I understand that. But test them too hard, and the next thirty days will be very unpleasant for both of us."
She fell silent, but I could see her mind working. Good. Let her think. Let her realize this wasn't a game.
The car pulled up to Marea, an upscale Italian restaurant in Central Park South. I'd chosen it deliberately, public enough to be safe, expensive enough that our presence wouldn't raise questions.
"Stay close," I told Mia as we exited the car. "Marco will try to rattle you. Don't let him."
"How?"
"By being exactly what you're pretending to be. A woman who chose to be here."
Tony opened the restaurant door, and I placed my hand on Mia's lower back, guiding her inside. She stiffened at the contact but didn't pull away. Another test passed.
Marco was already seated at our usual corner table, his eyes tracking us as we approached. My cousin was five years older than me, graying at the temples, with the kind of face that made people trust him. Dangerous combination.
"Roman." He stood, embracing me briefly, then turned his attention to Mia. "And this must be the journalist."
"Mia Sterling," she said, extending her hand. "Pleasure to meet you."
Marco took her hand but didn't shake it, just held it while he studied her face. "Interesting choice, bringing press into family matters."
"Mia isn't pressed anymore. She's mine."
I watched Mia's jaw tighten at my phrasing, but she kept her expression neutral. Impressive.
"For thirty days," Marco said, releasing her hand. "Yes, Tony briefed me. Still seems reckless."
"Calculated," I corrected, pulling out a chair for Mia. She sat, and I took the seat between them. "Mia was investigating us anyway. Better she sees the truth than invents it."
"And you trust her to report that truth accurately?" Marco's skepticism was clear.
"I trust that she's smart enough to recognize when she's wrong."
Mia's eyes flashed. "I'm sitting right here."
"Then feel free to defend yourself," I said. "Marco thinks you're here to write a hit piece regardless of what you see. Prove him wrong."
She turned to Marco. "I'm here to understand Roman's operation. Whether that results in a positive or negative story depends entirely on what I find."
"Very diplomatic," Marco said dryly. "But I've dealt with journalists before. You've already decided Roman is guilty. You're just looking for evidence to support that conclusion."
"That's not….."
"Isn't it?" Marco leaned forward. "You applied for a job under a false name. You committed fraud to spy on my cousin. Those aren't the actions of someone seeking objective truth."
Mia's hands clenched in her lap, but her voice stayed level. "I used unconventional methods because conventional ones don't work. Every journalist who's tried to investigate organized crime through official channels gets stonewalled or threatened."
"Or bought," Marco added. "Don't forget to buy."
"I can't be bought."
"Everyone can be bought, Ms. Sterling. The price just varies."
"Enough." I cut through the tension. "Mia is here for thirty days. During that time, she sees everything we're comfortable showing her. No more, no less. Your job, Marco, is to make sure she understands the legitimate operations."
"And if she writes something that damages us?"
"Then we deal with it." I signaled the waiter. "But I don't think she will."
Mia looked at me sharply. "Why not?"
"Because despite your assumptions, you're actually interested in the truth. Otherwise, you would have written your exposé already with the research you've compiled."
The waiter arrived, cutting off her response. We ordered, and Marco steered the conversation to business, a property acquisition in Brooklyn, negotiations with the union for one of our construction sites. I watched Mia absorb everything, her journalist instincts taking mental notes.
"The construction site," she said during a pause. "Is that where the money laundering happens?"
Marco's expression hardened. "Excuse me?"
"Mia." My voice carried a warning.
"You said I'd see how you operate. I'm asking questions."
"There's a difference between questions and accusations," Marco said coldly. "That construction site employs two hundred people with legitimate paychecks and benefits. It's not a front."
"But other businesses are."
The table fell silent. Even the ambient noise of the restaurant seemed to fade.
"You're pushing," I said quietly. "Back off."
"You offered me thirty days of truth. Is that truth only when it's convenient?"
I leaned closer, my voice dropping so only she could hear. "You want to discuss money laundering? Fine. Not here. Not in public. And not by ambushing Marco, who's trying very hard not to have you removed from this table."
Her eyes widened slightly. She'd forgotten where we were. What we were.
"I apologize," she said to Marco. "That was inappropriate."
Marco studied her for a long moment. "You've got nerves. I'll give you that. But a nerve without wisdom gets people killed in our world."
"I'm not in your world."
"You are now." Marco's phone buzzed, and he checked it with a frown. "We have a problem. Viktor Kozlov is moving shipments through our territory without permission."
My blood cooled. Viktor was a Russian mob, brutal and ambitious. We'd had an uneasy truce for two years, but recently he'd been testing boundaries.
"When?"
"Tonight. Docks in Red Hook. He's got a crew of twenty."
"Then we match it." I pulled out my phone, texting Tony. "Tell him we're not interested in a war, but we won't be disrespected."
Mia's voice cut through. "You're going to confront them?"
"I'm going to remind Viktor of our agreement."
"With twenty armed men?"
"Thirty," I corrected. "I don't go anywhere outgunned."
"This is insane. Someone could get killed."
"Someone could," I agreed. "That's why I'm going. To make sure it doesn't happen."
Marco stood. "I'll coordinate with our people. Meet at the usual spot in an hour?"
I nodded, and Marco left. The waiter brought our food, but I'd lost my appetite.
Mia stared at me. "You can't be serious. You're really going to….."
"Yes."
"Then I'm coming with you."
"Absolutely not."
"You said I get to see how you operate. This is how you operate." Her jaw set stubbornly. "Thirty days, Roman. You can't cherry-pick what I witnessed."
"I can when it might get you killed."
"That's my risk to take."
I wanted to argue, to force her back to her apartment and lock her safely away from the violence that was coming. But she was right. She'd agreed to see my world. This was my world.
"Fine," I said finally. "But you stay in the car with Tony. You don't get out, you don't interfere, and if shooting starts, you get down and stay down. Understood?"
"Understood."
I signaled for the check, my mind already running through contingencies. Viktor was unpredictable, dangerous. This could go bad quickly.
As we headed for the door, Mia grabbed my arm. "Roman. Why are you really letting me come?"
I looked down at her hand on my sleeve, then met her eyes. "Because you need to understand something. The violence you think defines me? I'm trying to leave it behind. But men like Viktor don't let you walk away. They see legitimacy as weakness. So sometimes, to build something better, you have to fight like the monster everyone believes you are."
Her hand fell away, and I saw fear in her eyes. Good. She should be afraid.
"Welcome to day one, Mia. Let's see if you survive it."