Chapter 10

BOILING POINT

Pov: Xavier Brooks

It was the kind of silence that made your ears ring.

I sat alone in the Carlo estate's vast kitchen, the flickering light over the marble island buzzing faintly, the only sound in a room meant for fire and knives. My hands were still dusted with flour, and the smell of roasted tomatoes and garlic lingered on my clothes. I hadn't even plated dinner. I just walked away halfway through prep and let Gino figure out who'd finish it.

I couldn't stop hearing her voice. Detective Diane Davis.

"You help me, and I'll help you."

I hated how much sense she made.

I wasn't a fool. I knew what kind of family I was working for. I might not have known it when Carmela first offered me the deal, when I stood in that marble office with a crumpled hospital bill in my coat pocket and desperation in my chest-but I knew it now.

The Carlos weren't businesspeople.

They were criminals with good taste.

And I was in the middle of it. Elbow-deep. Wearing black aprons like armor. Pretending cooking was all I was here for.

I took a breath and leaned back in the chair, staring at the antique chandelier above me. It hung low, casting long shadows across the kitchen-ornate and cold. Like everything in this house.

My phone buzzed.

Carmela: Everything okay? Heard you left the kitchen.

She always knew. Even when she wasn't looking, she was watching.

I stared at the screen for a moment before typing.

Me: Just needed a moment. Coming back now.

I didn't send it.

Instead, I locked the phone and shoved it in my pocket. I stood and washed my hands slowly, letting the warm water run longer than necessary. I looked at my reflection in the dark window-eyes hollow, lips pressed in a hard line.

I didn't recognize myself anymore.

Later That Night - Carlo Estate, Guest Quarters

I barely slept. I kept hearing

Ma's soft breathing from my last visit, the way her hand had trembled when she said she was proud of me. I heard Diane's voice overlapping it-whispering that I was in too deep.

And maybe I was. Maybe I should've walked away the moment Carmela made her offer. Maybe I should've swallowed my pride, gone to charity groups, started a GoFundMe-anything other than this.

But when a woman like Carmela Carlo offers to cover your mother's pancreatic surgery and guarantees the best doctors and care, it's damn near impossible to say no.

And now?

Now I was stuck between a cop and a capo.

Flashback - Two Weeks Ago

"Do you know how expensive this is?" I'd asked Carmela the night she made her offer.

She had looked at me with a half-smile, one hand resting on the dark wood of her office desk. Her black turtleneck made her eyes look even colder.

"I know exactly how much it costs," she said. "Dr. Petrini's office doesn't hide their fees.

I blinked. "You spoke to her doctor?"

She nodded once, calm as ever. "I don't make decisions in the dark, Mr. Brooks. I researched your mother's condition. Found the top oncologist in the region. This isn't charity-it's business. You work for me. I'll take care of the rest."

And just like that, the trap had sprung. Wrapped in civility and promises.

Present - Carlo Garden Terrace

The next morning, I sat on the terrace with a cup of strong black coffee, trying to shake the weight from my chest. The morning mist hugged the marble statues dotting the edges of the garden, giving the place a ghostly beauty. Carmela joined me a few minutes later.

She didn't say anything at first-just sat beside me with her own cup, silent as a shadow.

Finally, she spoke. "You've been off lately."

I didn't flinch, but the grip on my cup tightened.

"Just tired," I said.

She looked at me. "Tired... or conflicted?"

There it was. The edge. The glint of warning. But her tone wasn't accusatory-yet. It was measured, curious.

"I'm here, aren't I?" I said simply.

She studied me for a long moment before nodding. "Yes, you are."

She leaned forward, placing her coffee down. "You're a smart man, Xavier. And smart men know when to ask the right questions. If something doesn't sit right with you-speak."

I wanted to tell her. Not everything. Just enough to lift the weight. But then I remembered the look Diane gave me. The promise of immunity. The smell of bleach and steel in Carmela's warehouse kitchen. The way Gino had smiled last night, nodding toward crates that didn't carry olive oil.

This wasn't just dinner parties and luxury gigs anymore.

This was bigger than me.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "I'll keep that in mind."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

That Afternoon - Hospital Visit

St. Vincent's felt smaller every time I walked in. Maybe it was the dread. Or maybe it was knowing I might not be able to do this much longer.

Ma was asleep when I arrived. The nurse-Claire-greeted me with a tired but familiar smile.

"She had a good morning," Claire said. "Kept asking about your cooking. Said you used to make lemon-rosemary chicken with your eyes closed."

I smiled faintly. "She exaggerates."

"She loves you," Claire said. "It's good she has someone like you."

I wanted to believe that. But how could I be good when every breath I took was borrowed from the underworld?

I sat beside my mother and brushed a loose curl from her cheek. Her skin was pale. Fragile. But she was still here.

I wanted to keep it that way.

So, what did I do?

Snitch?

Or stay?

Evening - Back at the Carlo Estate

Dinner was a quiet affair. Carmela sat at the head of the table with Gino and her father Vincenzo on either side. The air was thick with tension, even if no one said a word about it.

I served the pasta personally.

"Smells good," Gino said. "Better than last week."

I gave a polite nod and stepped away. I could feel Carmela's eyes on my back the entire time.

I didn't want to believe she knew anything. But I couldn't be sure anymore.

Later That Night - The Phone Call

I didn't expect Diane to call again.

But she did. At exactly 11:41 p.m., as I sat on the edge of my bed staring at a blank notepad.

"You make a decision yet?" she asked.

"You think I can just switch sides and walk out clean?"

"I think you're smart enough to know the only clean way out is with help." I closed my eyes. "If I do this... if I give you something... my mother-"

"She'll be protected," Diane said. "I'll see to it personally." I paused. My throat was dry. My thoughts scattered.

"I need time," I whispered.

"You don't have much." And then she hung up.