Page 84 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

Damiano nods curtly. “Let’s get this over with.”

A smirk dances on Sean’s lips. “Aye, I’m curious to see what you lot have cooked up.”

I spread a map of New York City on the table. “We’re here to discuss territorial boundaries. It’s time we put an end to this senseless bloodshed.”

Damiano’s eyes narrow. “And how do you propose we do that, Pimaslov?”

“By respecting each other’s territories and establishing clear lines of communication,” I say, my voice steady. “We’re stronger united than divided, and we need to modernize.”

Sean scoffs. “Pretty words, but how do we ensure everyone plays fair?”

Felicity keeps her voice soft but firm. “We implement a system of checks and balances. Regular meetings, shared intelligence, and a neutral party to mediate disputes.”

Santino nods approvingly. “My daughter speaks wisely. We need trust to make this work.”

I trace a line on the map. “I propose we divide the city into three main sectors. Damiano, you take the docks and shipping routes. Sean, the nightclub district and associated businesses are yours. I’ll handle distribution inland.”

Damiano’s brow furrows. “And the profits?”

“We split them based on territory and contribution.”

The room falls silent as each man contemplates the proposal. Santino breaks the tension. “It’s a start, gentlemen. A chance for peace.”

Damiano sighs. “It’s not perfect, but it’s better than constant warfare. I’m in.”

Sean strokes his beard. “Aye, I can work with this. For now.”

“Then we have an agreement,” I say, relief washing over me. “We’ll draw up the formal documents and meet again to sign them.”

As we shake hands, I catch Felicity’s gaze. She smiles. This truce is fragile, but it’s a step toward the future we both want.

“Now,” says Sean, his voice lighter, “How about a drink to seal the deal?”

I nod, allowing a small smile. “Agreed. Santino, would you do the honors?”

The old man rises slowly, pouring four glasses of aged whiskey, and a fifth glass of sparkling cider for Felicity. As we raise our glasses, I’m filled with a sense of accomplishment. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

“To peace,” Santino toasts.

“To peace,” we echo, the clink of glasses ringing out in the room.

As we sip the smooth liquor, I observe the men around me. Damiano’s shoulders have relaxed slightly, Sean’s eyes are less guarded, and even Santino seems to have shed years of worry. Felicity squeezes my hand under the table while sipping her cider.

“There’s one more matter we need to discuss,” I say, setting down my glass. “Security. We need a joint task force to handle threats to our new alliance.”

Damiano arches a brow, interest clearly piqued. “What did you have in mind?”

“A team composed of our best men, working together to defend our shared interests,” I say. “They’ll report to all of us, ensuring no one faction gains an upper hand.”

Sean nods slowly. “Not a bad idea, but who leads this team?”

“We rotate leadership,” says Felicity after we all stare at each other for a long minute. “Every six months, we chose a new head from a different family. It keeps things balanced.”

I smile at her ingenuity. “Exactly, and we establish clear protocols for information sharing and decision-making.”

Santino clears his throat. “And what of internal disputes? How do we prevent this team from being used against one another?”

“Good question. We implement a strict code of conduct. Any member found violating it or acting against the alliance is immediately removed and…blacklisted.” I use the euphemism for Felicity, but she just shoots me a knowing look and rolls her eyes. “Or we do it the old way, which seems pretty effective for buying loyalty.”

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