Page 56 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

Isabella’s hand tightens on Tony’s shoulder. “Mr. Pimaslov, I mean Kiril, I’m not sure if this is a good idea.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “Felicity isn’t so involved in business matters. She’s just eager to make you feel welcome.”

The internal struggle plays out on her face. She wants to safeguard her son, but she also recognizes the need to adapt to their new situation. Finally, she nods. “All right. We’ll meet her.”

I smile, trying to project confidence and reassurance. “Excellent. Why don’t you take a few minutes to freshen up? I’ll have some refreshments sent up, and then we can introduce you to Felicity.”

As I turn to leave, Isabella calls out, “Kiril?”

I pause at the door. “Yes?”

She takes a deep breath. “Thank you for getting us out. I haven’t been the most grateful, but I want you to know that I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

I hold up a hand. “You don’t need to thank me. Your safety is what matters most. We’re family now, whether by blood or circumstance, and family takes care of its own.” I feel a surge of guilt as I say that, but I push it down. If it comes to using Damiano’s family to save mine, I have no qualms.

With that, I step out of the apartment, leaving Isabella and Tony to settle in. As I walk down the hallway, I’m not certain how I feel. Bringing them here was necessary, but it’s also complicated things immensely. I already like Tony more than I’d expected, and Isabella seems to be a good mother and to genuinely care about Damiano.

I pull out my phone to text Felicity, letting her know our guests have arrived safely. As I type, I hope their meeting goes well. The last thing we need is more tension in an already volatile situation.

24

Kiril

Istand in the kitchen, watching Tony as he carefully stirs the pancake batter. His small hands grip the wooden spoon tightly, his tongue poking out in concentration. It’s been three days since Isabella and Tony arrived, and I’m spending more time with Tony than I’d anticipated.

“Am I doing it right, Kiril?” he asks, looking up at me with a transparent need for approval. I wonder how often Damiano visits, since the boy is clearly craving a male influence. Not often enough, for sure.

I nod with a genuine smile. “Perfect. You’re a natural chef.”

Isabella enters the kitchen, eyes widening slightly at the sight of us cooking together. She’s been wary since their arrival, but her guard appears to be lowering incrementally each day. Once she met Felicity, she relaxed immensely, and they seem to have taken a liking to each other.

Just another complication if we have to give the appearance of threatening her and Tony to get Damiano’s compliance. I stifle a sigh at the thought.

“What’s all this?” she asks, her voice cautious but not unfriendly.

“We’re making pancakes. Kiril’s teaching me how to flip them.” He grins at Felicity as she joins us. “Hi, Aunt Felicity.”

“Hi, sweetie.” She looks a little pale, having grappled once again with morning sickness but insisted I go help Tony. She looks at our pancake endeavor and raises an eyebrow at me. “I didn’t know the head of the Russian mafia was such a domestic god.”

I shrug, feeling oddly self-conscious. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

She puts her arm around me, pinching my butt and making me jump in surprise. She winks at me. “I know all your ticklish spots.”

“I’m not…” I break off with a choked laugh as she pokes me gently in the side, making me sound almost like a braying donkey when she starts tickling.

I escape her and hold out the spatula. “I’ll spank you if you do that again, woman.” I’m trying to be threatening but not too threatening, not wanting Tony to be frightened.

When Felicity laughs, the boy laughs too, and so does Isabella. My dignity has suffered for this, but I suppose it’s an acceptable trade to see the boy and his mother relaxing.

As we sit down to eat, Felicity sits beside me, nibbling on a plain pancake. Tony chatters away about his dreams of becoming a pilot, and I catch myself making mental notes about flightschools and simulator programs while wondering if my child will share similar interests with his cousin.

I shouldn’t think of Tony as his cousin, but it’s the truth. I can’t pretend it isn’t, but that won’t stop me from doing what I must, I assure myself.

“Can we go to the park today?” asks Tony between bites. “Please, Mama? Kiril said it might be okay if you said yes.”

Isabella looks at me, her expression laced with suspicion. “Is it safe?”

I nod. “I’ll have my best men with us. No one will get within a hundred feet without us knowing.”

---