Page 51 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

I take a deep breath while assessing my options. The silence stretches between us as I consider the implications of both choices. Finally, I nod. “Okay. I’ll see him.”

He gives me a side hug. “I’ll make the arrangements. We’ll leave in an hour.”

As Kiril steps away to make a call, I finish my coffee and head to our bedroom to change. I opt for a simple black dress, appropriate for what feels like a somber occasion. When I return to the living room, Kiril is waiting by the elevator.

“Ready?” he asks, extending his hand.

I take it, drawing strength from him. “As I’ll ever be.”

We descend to the foyer in silence, and I’m dreading the impending meeting. Viktor is waiting with the car, his face impassive. As we slide into the back seat, I turn to Kiril. “What should I expect? Is he much worse than last time?”

Kiril’s jaw tightens. “Santino is still in that private medical facility. He’s weak but lucid. I’ve seen him, and he’s not hooked up to wires. It’s more like he’s lost some of his spirit, but you’re under no obligation to stay if you’re uncomfortable.”

I nod, mulling it over as we drive through the city. I watch the bustling streets, trying to calm my nerves, but I’m not really seeing the details. It’s all a blur as I think about Santino dying. There’s a small pang of regret at the idea, but mostly, I feel numb. That isn’t the natural response, and it makes me sad to feel that way. Kiril’s hand rests on my knee as though he’s reading my thoughts on my face.

The car pulls up to the same unassuming building, and Viktor quickly ushers us inside. I know the way to his room this time, but before we enter, Kiril turns to me as I freeze in the hallway outside Santino’s room, suddenly unable to go in. The news of his worsening condition has me on edge.

He places a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do this,” he says softly.

I shake my head. “I do. He’s my father, regardless of our past.”

Kiril nods and exhales softly. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

My eyes widen. “You aren’t coming in?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Santino has requested to speak to you privately, but I’ll come if you need me.”

I hesitate before shaking my head. “I can do this.” And I can ask him to come in if it turns out I can’t. Taking a deep breath, I enter the room. The sight of Santino, frail and bedridden, makes my chest ache. I contrast it with how much better he looked thatnight at “Samovar,” and it’s clear to see he’s suffered another setback.

He gives a small but genuine smile when I step fully inside. “Felicity, you came.” His voice is hoarse and reedy.

I approach his bedside, hesitant. “I did. How are you feeling?”

He attempts a smile, but it comes out as a grimace. “I’ve been better, but seeing you gives me strength.”

I sit in the chair beside his bed, unsure what to say. He reaches out, hand trembling, and I take it, surprised by my own action.

“I have something to tell you,” he says in a weak whisper. “About Damiano. Heard what he tried to do in Atlantic City… Has to stop…”

My interest piques. “What about him?”

He glances at the door. “Make sure we’re alone.”

I look around, already knowing no one else is with us. “We are. What is it?”

He takes a labored breath. “Damiano has a secret. A weakness.”

“A weakness?” I lean closer, eager to hear more.

Santino nods. “A child. A son, in Naples. With a woman named Isabella.”

The revelation stuns me. “Damiano has a son and abandoned him in Naples?”

“Yes. Tony. He’s five years old. Damiano’s Achilles’ heel.” He frowns. “Not abandoned. He keeps them there for safety.”

My mind races at the news, and my heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my throat. “Does anyone else know?”

Santino shrugs. “Very few. It’s his most guarded secret.”

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