Page 83 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

Damiano nods, his gaze never leaving Tony. “He does,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He doesn’t appear to be bothered by his son dancing ballet, which fills me with a different kind of hope for the kids’ futures.

As the children dance, the three men around me slowly relax. Their faces soften, the hard lines of tension easing away. By the time the final dancer gives a final bow before the curtain drops, there’s a noticeable shift in the atmosphere.

We stand to applaud, and I seize the moment. “Gentlemen, perhaps we could step into the office for a moment?”

They exchange glances, then nod in agreement. I lead them to a small room off the main studio, closing the door behind us.

“What do you think?” I ask, gesturing to the chairs arranged in a loose circle.

Sean is the first to speak. “Your son’s got talent, Damiano,” he says with confidence, revealing he’s either guessed or confirmed Damiano has been hiding a secret family.

Damiano flinches for a moment but nods. He does, and your daughter is talented.”

“Aye, she’s something else, isn’t she?” Sean beams with pride.

Damiano nods. “They both performed beautifully. It’s... nice to see them together like this.” He sounds a little pained, and it’s clear he’d planned to keep Tony and Isabella’s existence a secret as long as possible, but now O’Malley knows he has something important on the line too.

Kiril remains silent, gaze moving between the other two men.

“I hope our child will dance with them someday in the near future,” I say, meeting my husband’s gaze before looking at Damiano and Sean, reminding them we also have a stake in a peaceful future.

Damiano nods, and Sean grunts. I take a deep breath to calm myself. “I know there’s a lot of history and bad blood between your…organizations, but tonight, we saw something different. We saw our children, innocent and full of joy, sharing a stage. Don’t they deserve a chance to grow up without the constant threat of violence?”

The men shift uncomfortably, but I press on. “I’m not naïve. I know peace won’t come easily, but surely we can start with small steps. A ceasefire, perhaps? A chance to discuss territories and business without resorting to bloodshed?”

Sean strokes his beard thoughtfully. “It’s not a bad idea, lass. We’ve all lost good men in this feud. Maybe it’s time for a change.”

Damiano nods slowly. “I agree. The constant fighting is bad for business. If we could find a way to work together...”

Kiril finally speaks, his voice low and measured. “It won’t be easy. There’s too much history, too many grudges, but for the sake of our families, it might be worth trying.”

I hold my breath, hardly daring to hope. “So, you’re willing to talk? To at least consider the possibility of peace?” I already know Damiano and Kiril are, but they seem to be playing the angle that they’ve been totally ambushed too. I’m okay with being the bad guy in this scenario if it gets O’Malley to open his mind.

The three men exchange glances. Finally, Sean nods. “Aye, we’ll talk. No promises beyond that, mind you, but we’ll sit down and see what can be done.”

Relief makes me smile. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s a start. “Thank you.”

As we prepare to rejoin the reception, Kiril pulls me aside. “You’ve done well,” he mutters, his lips brushing my ear. “But remember, this world is still dangerous. Stay alert.” He slaps me on the ass and gives me a meaningful glance as I slip past him. “And remember the price of your ‘surprise’ later.”

I nod, squeezing his hand as my panties get damp. “I will, but let’s just enjoy the moment.”

We step back into the main room, where the children are being congratulated by their proud parents. Siobhan runs up to Sean, her face flushed with excitement. “Did you see me, Papa? Did you like it?”

Sean scoops her up, his booming laugh filling the room. “You were amazing, my little dancer. The best one up there.”

Across the room, I see Damiano kneeling next to Tony, who’s animatedly describing his performance. Isabella stands nearby, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she watches father and son interact.

As I survey the scene, I realize that for this brief moment, we’ve achieved something remarkable. The most powerful and dangerous men in New York are gathered in one room, not as rivals, but as fathers and uncles, bound by the simple joy of watching children dance.

It’s a fragile peace, I know. Tomorrow, the harsh realities of their world will reassert themselves, but for now, in this moment, there’s hope, and sometimes, hope is all we need to start changing the world.

38

Kiril

Istand at the entrance of the conference room, surveying the scene before me. The air is thick with tension. Damiano DeLucci and Sean O’Malley flank the long mahogany table, their postures rigid. Felicity sits beside me, her presence a calming influence. At the head of the table, Santino DeLucci observes us all with weariness. He rallied enough to insist on attending this historic meeting, and he looks better than he did the last time I saw him.

“Gentlemen, shall we begin?” I ask, taking my seat.

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