Page 46 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

I shake my head. “No, I’m okay. You?”

“Fine,” he says, but he winces as he shifts.

“You’re hit,” I say, running my hands over his body, searching for the wound.

He catches my wrists. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.” Staring up at him, I see fear and relief blending in his expression. “How did you know?” he asks. “About the drink?”

“I noticed the waiter acting strangely. When he approached the table, I saw him drop something in your glass.”

Kiril’s expression softens. “You saved my life.”

I shrug, suddenly feeling shy. “We’re partners, right? That’s what we do.”

He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. “You’re more than just a partner, Felicity. You’re my wife, my queen.”

He kisses me, hard and deeply, pouring all his emotions into it. I respond with equal fervor, the fear and adrenaline of the night transforming into passion.

When we break apart, we’re both breathless. He rests his forehead against mine. “We’ll deal with Damiano. He won’t get away with this.”

I nod, accepting there must be a proportionate response. This is my life now, full of danger, excitement, and a love more powerful than I ever imagined.

Viktor takes us straight back to the private airstrip, not stopping the SUV until then. When it’s clear, I step out, my legs shaky from the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Kiril’s puts his arm around my waist, steadying me as we make our way onto the jet. The events of the night replay in my mind, a chaotic blur of gunfire and betrayal.

Viktor follows closely behind, vigilantly scanning our surroundings. As soon as we’re inside, he starts barking orders into his phone, no doubt mobilizing our security forces. We’re wheels up in under ten minutes, and once it’s safe to unfasten my seatbelt, I do so I can get closer to my husband.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” I ask Kiril.

He catches my hands, bringing them to his lips. “I’m fine, darling. Thanks to you. The graze is nothing.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe Damiano would do this. I mean, I know he’s not exactly family of the year, but to try to kill you? To betray everyone like that and risk having every faction of the Bratvaafter him? It seems crazy.”

Kiril’s jaw tightens. “He’s shown how ruthless and reckless he is. There’s no going back from this.” He pulls me closer. “Rest now.”

I would protest, but he looks tired and in pain, so I subside into silent support. We can discuss our counterresponse later, once he’s been patched up and feeling one hundred percent again.

Hours later, we land, and Viktor drives us home in our own limousine. We enter the foyer and take the elevator upstairs to the penthouse, both of us weary. We make our way to the living room, where Kiril pours us both a generous measure of vodka.

I set aside my glass, not wanting to hurt the baby. “What happens now?” I ask, sinking onto the plush sofa.

Kiril sits beside me, his arm draped over my shoulders. “Now, we plan our next move.”

Viktor enters the room, his face grim. “The perimeter is secure, boss. I’ve doubled the guards and put everyone on high alert.”

“Good,” Kiril nods. “Any word on Damiano’s whereabouts?”

“He’s gone to ground, but we have feelers out. He won’t be able to hide for long.”

I fidget, a thought nagging at me. “What about the other families? The ones at the poker game? Won’t they be wondering what happened?”

Kiril exchanges a look with Viktor. “That’s our next problem. We need to control the narrative before Damiano can spin this in his favor.”

“I’ll start making calls,” says Viktor. “We’ll need to reassure our allies and put pressure on anyone who might be thinking of siding with Damiano.”

“Not too likely,” says Viktor. “They’re more likely to be pissed at Damiano.”

“Yes, but they might question my strength and take a perceived opening,” says Kiril through gritted teeth. “I refuse to allow that.”

“Same.” Viktor leaves to start damage control.

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