Made

Six months of work.

Twelve hours a day carrying trays in four-inch heels. Six months of "yes sir" and "right away" and pretending I couldn't feel the regulars' eyes on my ass every time I bent to clear a table.

Six months of building covers, earning trust, gathering evidence that was going to put Vincenzo Conti away for the rest of his natural life.

Gone. All of it.

Because apparently, I wasn't as invisible as I thought.

"Please. Sit."

The private dining room at Ristorante Conti, where I'd spent six months carrying plates and building a lie, was designed to intimidate. Leather chairs so supple they'd never been sat in wrong. Art that belonged in museums. Windows overlooking the skyline, all of it laid out like a display for his benefit.

And Vincenzo Conti, sitting behind a desk that probably had its own security detail.

I sat. Not because he asked. Because my legs wouldn't hold me much longer.

"Agent Cole." He rolled the name like he was savoring it. "Or do you prefer Sienna? You've been going by Sarah Belloni for the past six months."

"How long have you known?"

"That you were FBI?" His smile was almost friendly. Almost. "Since the first week."

My training kicked in. Assess the room. Two exits, the door I came through and a service entrance behind the bar. One guard visible. At least two more outside. Odds of making it to either door: approaching zero.

"If you knew," I said carefully, "why let me stay?"

"Because you were useful." He stood, moved to the bar, poured two glasses of something amber and costly. "A known FBI agent is less dangerous than an unknown one. I could control what you saw, what you reported. And through your investigation, I learned exactly what the Bureau thought they knew about my operations, and more importantly, what they didn't."

He handed me a glass. I didn't drink.

"You're dancing around it."

"No." He settled back into his chair. "It's context. The answer is more interesting."

"Then give me the answer."

"I was curious." He looked at me, unblinking. "About you specifically. About what kind of woman spends six months pretending to be something she's not. About what drives someone to dedicate their life to law enforcement in a world where the law is... flexible."

"Justice isn't flexible."

"Justice is a concept. Laws are flexible. There's a difference."

He was good. I'd give him that. The suit probably cost five figures, but he wore it like armor, not costume. His hands were manicured but scarred. A man who knew violence personally.

"My evidence," I said. "The documents, the recordings..."

"Destroyed. All of it." He sipped his drink. "The servers were wiped this morning. Your surveillance equipment was collected and disposed of. Your handler's attempt to contact you has been... redirected."

A cold fist closed around my gut.

"You've compromised an active FBI investigation."

"I've protected my family." His voice hardened slightly. "You came into my house, Agent Cole. Ate my food, smiled at my people, took my money. All while building a case to destroy everything I've built."

"You're a criminal."

"I'm a businessman." He set down his glass. "One who has decided to make you an offer."

"I'm not interested in bribes."

"Not a bribe. A deal." He leaned forward. "You've lost everything you gathered over six months. Your cover is blown. Your handler will soon receive information suggesting you've been compromised, turned by the very organization you were investigating."

"That's not true."

"Truth is whatever the evidence suggests." His smile cut clean. "By tomorrow, your career will be effectively over. Unless."

"Unless what?"

"Unless you spend the next six months with me."

I let the silence sit.

"Excuse me?"

"Six months. You stay in my home, under my protection. During the day, you work with my people. During the night..." He paused. "During the night, you're mine."

I stood so fast my chair scraped the floor.

"You're insane."

"I'm practical." He didn't move. Didn't need to. "In six months, I can give you something far more valuable than whatever case you were building. I can give you Marco Ferraro."

The name stopped me cold.

Ferraro. The trafficking operation the Bureau had been trying to crack for years. The man responsible for hundreds of disappearances, thousands of destroyed lives. The monster hiding behind legitimate business fronts.

"You have information on Ferraro?"

"I have everything you need to destroy him." Vincenzo's face gave nothing. "Dates, locations, money trails. The kind of evidence that leads to RICO charges and life sentences."

"Why would you give that to me?"

"Because he's my enemy too." Something cold entered his voice. "Ferraro wants to bring trafficking into my territory. I've refused. He's decided that makes me an obstacle."

"So you want me to take him down for you."

"I want us to take him down together." He stood, moved around the desk, stopped close enough that I could smell his cologne. "Six months. When it's over, you'll have the biggest bust of your career and I'll have one less rival trying to destroy everything I've built."

"And the nights?"

His smile was slow. Dangerous.

"The nights are... separate."

"You want to fuck the FBI agent who was investigating you."

"I want you, Agent Cole." He was very close now. "I've wanted you since you walked through my door with your too-perfect cover and your calculating eyes. The investigation is irrelevant."

"And if I say no?"

"Then you walk out that door. Tomorrow, the Bureau receives evidence of your compromised loyalty. By next week, you're in a holding cell facing federal charges." He tilted his head. "Or you can say yes. And in six months, we both get what we want."

I should arrest him. Should signal my team, call for backup, do something that aligned with the oath I took.

But my team didn't know my cover was blown. My evidence was gone. And the man offering me a devil's bargain had the key to destroying a monster the Bureau had chased for a decade.

"Six months," I said.

"Six months."

"And after that, we're done."

"After that, you're free to do whatever you want." He reached out, one finger tilting my chin up. "But I think you'll find freedom isn't quite what you expect."

I should have pulled away.

I didn't.

"When do we start?"

"Tonight." His thumb grazed the corner of my mouth. "My driver is waiting downstairs. Your things have already been collected from your apartment."

"You were that certain I'd say yes?"

"I was certain you'd make the smart choice." He stepped back. "And you are, above all, a smart woman."

The door opened behind me. One of his men stepped in.

"Mr. Conti. The car is ready."

"Thank you, Carlos." Vincenzo gestured toward the door. "After you, Agent Cole."

I walked out of that room on steady legs, pride intact, training holding.

But inside, I was calculating. Always calculating.

Six months with the enemy.

Six months to find a way out of this trap.

And six months to figure out why, underneath the fear and the fury, some part of me was almost looking forward to it.