Chapter 74: Get up and I’ll Ruin you
Vanessa
I followed Adam to a small table near the ice cream stand, my steps measured and my expression carefully neutral.
My bodyguard sat a few tables away, exactly where I expected him to be, his posture relaxed but his attention unmistakably fixed on me. I didn’t dare look at him directly, but I could feel it.
Adam pulled out a chair for me like a gentleman, the gesture almost amusing considering the quiet tension already forming between us.
As I sat, he took the seat across from me, setting his ice cream down casually before reaching into his jacket. Without a word, he slid something across the table toward me, his movements smooth and deliberate.
An FBI badge.
My fingers twitched slightly against my lap, but I didn’t touch it, didn’t dare draw attention to it. When I finally lifted my gaze to him, he was already watching me, his brown eyes steady, unreadable, almost as if he had been waiting for that exact reaction.
He picked it back up and placed it in his pocket before picking up his ice cream cup and taking a slow, unbothered bite.
"I promised you a drink," he said lightly, his tone easy, almost playful. "I hope ice cream works just as well." His calmness irritated me instantly, but I forced myself to pick up my own cup, if only to keep up appearances.
We exchanged a few words after that, simple, meaningless small talk that felt almost insulting given the tension simmering beneath the surface.
He asked about the mall, about whether I came here often, about nothing that mattered, and I answered just enough to not seem suspicious. All the while, I could feel my patience wearing thin, my mind racing far ahead of his slow, controlled pace.
"I was expecting someone else," I finally said, cutting through the pointless conversation, my voice low and controlled.
"The man that came to meet me before." I shook my head slightly, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, especially with my bodyguard sitting just close enough to notice any shift.
His gaze sharpened just slightly, though the relaxed posture remained, his fingers tapping lightly against his cup.
"Nico," I continued, leaning forward just a fraction. "You’re looking into him? Why?" The question came out quicker than I intended, urgency slipping through despite my efforts to stay composed.
"The shooting the night before... do you know why?" I added, my voice quieter now, edged with something between anxiety and frustration.
I watched him closely, annoyed at how he leaned back in his chair, completely at ease, as he took another slow spoonful of his ice cream like none of this mattered.
His asthetically pleasing appearance and blond hair only annoyed me more with how good hewas to look at.
Instead of answering, he tilted his head slightly, studying me in a way that made my skin prickle. "Why are you so desperate to know?" he asked, his tone calm but probing, like he was picking apart my thoughts one by one.
I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to snap at him, knowing that losing control here would only make things worse.
Before I could respond, he leaned forward suddenly, his hand reaching across the table to take mine. I stiffened instantly, my body going rigid at the contact, but from the outside, it must have looked natural—like a man flirting, testing the waters.
His thumb brushed lightly over my skin, the gesture almost gentle.
"Why should I give you information?" he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
"What do I get?" His grip tightened just slightly, enough to remind me that this wasn’t a suggestion, that this was a negotiation whether I liked it or not.
"What do you want?" I asked, forcing the words out evenly despite the tension curling in my chest. He nodded slowly, as though he had been waiting for me to ask that exact question.
"I need an inside informant on Nico," he said, his tone dropping, losing the casual edge it had carried before. I frowned instantly, confusion flashing across my face as I tried to process what he meant. It didn’t make sense—not yet—not until he leaned in slightly and continued.
"Nico Romano," he said quietly, watching me closely. "He’s a mafia don. He killed the former one to take his place." The words hit me like a physical blow, my breath catching as my mind struggled to catch up with what he was saying.
"Yes, he has a company," Adam continued, his voice steady, almost clinical now. "But he buys and sells people, drugs... and he’s said to have affiliations with the Gallias Cartel." My gaze dropped immediately, my hands tightening in my lap as I tried to hide the shock that surged through me.
"Do you have proof? How are you so sure?"’I asked hoping that somehow he was wrong only to watch him shake his head.
"Your father is proof!" how words shutting me up before I could speak again eyes wide as I fixed them on him watching him continue.
"If you can get into his office and retrieve financial documents or any kind of evidence," he went on, as though he hadn’t just shattered everything I thought I knew, "I can get a warrant to search the house." His words were precise, calculated, each one landing exactly where it needed to.
"If I can catch him," he added, his tone softening just slightly, "then you can go back to your mother." My head snapped up at that, my heart stuttering as I met his gaze again, the realization settling in heavily.
Of course he knew.
"Most people aren’t aware yet," he continued, watching me carefully. "But it’s only a matter of time before they start questioning the resemblance to Carmen. Trace that back to Castillo’s affair... and everything unravels. A secret I’ve gone out of my way to keep" His voice remained calm, but the weight of his words pressed down on me, suffocating.
"I’m sorry," I said finally, shaking my head as I pushed my chair back slightly, fear clear in my eyes now despite my efforts to hide it.
"I won’t be able to help you." My voice wavered just enough to betray me, but I didn’t care. This was too much. Far too much.
If it was true that coming to meet him was already a big mistake.
I started to stand, desperate to put distance between myself and everything he had just said, but his hand shot forward, grabbing mine again with far more intensity this time. I froze, my breath hitching as I looked at him, the change in his expression immediate and terrifying.
"I’m an FBI agent," he said quietly, a false smile still firmly in place on his lips. "How do you think Nico would react when he finds out that you met with me?" The words sank in slowly, dread curling deep in my stomach.
"Gosh," he continued, almost casually, "the information you gave me about his estate was more than enough." My eyes widened in shock, fear rushing in so quickly it left me dizzy.
"You wouldn’t," I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. He nodded immediately, without hesitation.
"I would," he said simply. "If you are useless to me, then there’s nothing holding me back." The coldness in his eyes made it clear he meant every word.
"You’re FBI," I whispered, shaking my head slightly. "You’re supposed to—"
"—to what?" he cut in sharply. "Protect and serve? What do you think happens when you’re trying to protect a mafia lord?" His voice dropped further, tension creeping in as he spoke through clenched restraint.
"If everyone is too scared of him, how do you expect us to catch him while he continues carving people’s heads up?" he added, his gaze hard, unyielding. The words made my stomach twist painfully.
"Get up and leave," he said quietly, his grip still firm, "and I’ll ruin you." This time, there was no softness, no pretense—just cold certainty.
He released my hand only to reach into his pocket, pulling out a small round black object and placing it in front of me. I stared at it, my chest tightening as I immediately understood what it was.
"Paste this under the table in his study," he said, his tone returning to something eerily calm. I didn’t reach for it, didn’t even move, but he simply shrugged as though my hesitation meant nothing.
He stood up smoothly, his expression shifting once again as he picked up his ice cream and finished the last of it.
Then, just like before, the mask slipped back into place, his demeanor light and charming as he spoke louder this time.
"I hope we can talk more," he said with an easy smile, his voice carrying just enough to be heard. "I’d really like to get to know you." Anyone watching would see nothing more than a pleasant interaction, a man clearly taken with a woman.
And then he turned and walked away.
Leaving me seated there, my hands trembling slightly in my lap as I stared at the small device on the table, my mind spinning with everything he had just said.
I didn’t know what terrified me more—what I had just learned about Nico, or the fact that I was being blackmailed by an FBI agent.
