Page 69 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

I tilt my head up to look at him. “I guess we’re stuck together, aren’t we?”

A rare smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Always.”

He captures my lips in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens. I melt into him, sliding my hands up his chest to his shoulders. When we finally part, both slightly breathless, desire burns in his eyes. “Let’s forget about the Irish and Damiano for tonight. I have other plans for us.”

I grin, allowing him to push me back onto the bed. As his lips find mine again, I push away thoughts of danger and threats. For now, it’s just us, Kiril and Felicity, husband and wife, soon-to-be parents, ardent lovers, and that’s enough.

30

Kiril

Isit in my study, gazing out the window at the glittering glass buildings without really seeing them as my thoughts drift to the child growing in Felicity’s womb. A surge of protectiveness hits me, mixed with a determination to do better than my own father.

My childhood flashes through my mind, the harsh lessons, the constant playing off against Nikolai, and Father’s unforgiving expectations. I shake my head, pushing away the memories. No, my child will know love and will understand the delicate balance between strength and compassion.

“I’ll teach you how to survive in this world,” I mutter, imagining holding my son or daughter. “I’ll also show you there’s more to life than just power.”

A knock at the door interrupts my musings. Viktor enters, looking grave.

“What is it?” I ask, straightening in my chair.

He approaches with a file in his hand. “We’ve received intelligence about the Irish mob, sir. They’re making moves on both our territory and Damiano’s.”

I frown, taking the file from him. As I scan the contents, my jaw tightens. “How reliable is this information?”

“Very. We’ve confirmed it through multiple sources.” He scoffs. “O’Malley’s not really taking any pains to hide his intentions.”

I slump back, considering the possible outcomes. The Irish have been a thorn in our side for years, and vice versa, with both of us periodically testing the other, but this level of aggression is new. It’s a threat we can’t ignore, and one that affects both Damiano and me.

“We need to act,” I say, standing up. “But we can’t do it alone. This might be an opportunity.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “An opportunity, sir?”

I nod, pacing the room. “To test our truce with Damiano. We’ve been at each other’s throats for too long. This Irish threat might be just what we need to truly find common ground.”

“Do you think he’ll agree?”

I pause, considering. “He’s not stupid. He knows the Irish are a threat to him too. We’re stronger together than divided.”

I walk to my desk, picking up my phone. My finger hovers over Damiano’s number for a moment before I press Call. It rings several times before he answers.

“Kiril?” Damiano’s voice is cautious. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“We need to talk,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. “Face to face. It’s about the Irish.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “What about them?”

“They’re making moves on both our territories. I have solid intel. This is a threat we can’t ignore.”

Another pause, longer this time. Finally, he speaks. “And you’re proposing what, exactly?”

“A meeting. Neutral ground. We discuss the Irish situation and discuss concrete details about our proposed truce.”

He hesitates before saying, “I pick the location this time. Your house was a little too cozy for such discussions.”

“Agreed. Send me the details,” I grunt.

“I will, and don’t make me regret this.”

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