“Are You Jealous?” She Smirked—The Mafia Boss’s Next Move Left Every Hardened Enforcer in the Room Speechless.

Dominic Valente sat at the head of a heavy oak conference table, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing pale, corded forearms. He wasn't yelling. He wasn't pacing. He sat completely motionless, but the absolute stillness in his posture was far more terrifying than any outburst of rage.

Naomi stood across the table, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She had refused the cup of black coffee Roman had offered her ten minutes ago. Her mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour, cataloging every weakness in Marcone’s financial network, every offshore account she had once audited for fun before joining the syndicate.

"Marcone thinks he has checkmate," Naomi said, her voice cutting sharply through the quiet room. "He stole my personal backup drive, which means he has the routing numbers for the Delaware shell company. If he hands those over to the federal task force by tomorrow morning, the freeze orders go out before the markets open."

Dominic looked up slowly, his pale hazel eyes fixing entirely on her face. "Let him try."

"Dominic, this isn't a game!" Naomi stepped closer to the table, her professional detachment finally cracking under the weight of the violation. "That's my home they tore apart. That's my life on that drive! If the feds move, we have less than twelve hours before the entire financial infrastructure of this syndicate collapses."

Roman stood by the steel door, watching the exchange like a caged panther. Nobody raised their voice to Dominic Valente. Nobody pointed a finger at him.

Except Naomi Callahan.

Instead of blowing his stack, Dominic let out a slow, deliberate breath. He stood up, towering over the table, and walked slowly toward her. He didn't stop until he was standing just inches away—close enough for Naomi to feel the heat radiating from his chest, close enough to count the dark, individual lashes framing his striking eyes.

"Naomi," he said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that made every nerve ending in her body hum with electric tension. "Look at me."

She forced herself not to look away. She stared right back into those pale, terrifying eyes.

"Did I ask you to keep a private backup drive outside of the secure network?" he asked quietly.

Naomi swallowed hard, her jaw tightening. "Every auditor keeps insurance, Dominic. You know how this world works."

"Insurance is for people who don't trust their protection," he replied, his gaze unblinking. "You work for me. Your safety isn't negotiable, and neither is my property. Marcone didn't just rob you; he walked onto my chessboard and kicked over a rook."

A slow, chilling smile touched the corner of Dominic’s mouth. It was the smile of a predator who had just decided to gut his prey and salt the earth behind him.

"Roman," Dominic said without turning around.

"Boss?"

"Pull every surveillance tape from the block surrounding Naomi’s apartment. Find out which of Marcone’s errand boys carried that drive out. Then, find Marcone’s chief financial officer—Arthur Pendelton—and bring him here. By breakfast."

"Dead or alive?" Roman asked casually.

"Alive," Dominic said softly. "Naomi needs a new project. And I think Arthur's ledgers are overdue for a very thorough audit."

Naomi stared at him, a shiver running down her spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a dark, intoxicating thrill she refused to admit she felt.

"You're going to wage financial warfare on Marcone," she murmured.

"Financial warfare is messy, slow, and leaves too many public records," Dominic replied, his hand reaching out. For the first time in five years, his fingers brushed against her wrist—just a fleeting, calloused touch against her pulse point, sending a jolt straight up her arm. "We are going to dismantle his entire empire, liquidate his assets into our own accounts, and leave him begging on a street corner in Queens by the end of the week."

He stepped back, breaking the contact, leaving her skin tingling in the sudden void.

"Roman, get Naomi a secure suite on the top floor of the Valente Tower. Double the guard. Nobody touches her. Nobody even breathes near her without my direct sign-off."