Page 85 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

Damiano taps his fingers on the table, considering. “It could work, but we’d need to be very careful about who we choose.”

“Agreed,” says Sean. “Only our most trusted lieutenants.”

I nod. “We’ll each submit a list of candidates, then vote on the final selections together.”

As we delve into the details of this new security arrangement, the atmosphere in the room is shifting. The initial wariness is giving way to cautious optimism. We’re not friends, not by a long shot, but we’re finding common ground.

Hours pass as we hammer out the finer points of our agreement. By the time we’re finished, the sun has set. We’re all exhausted, but there’s a sense of accomplishment in the air.

“Gentlemen,” I say, standing up, “I think we’ve made real progress today. This is just the beginning, but it’s a solid foundation for a new era of cooperation.”

Damiano rises, extending his hand. “You might be right. Let’s see where this takes us.”

Sean follows suit, his grip firm. “Aye, it’s a new day for all of us. Let’s not fuck it up, eh?”

We share a chuckle, the tension of the day finally breaking. As we prepare to leave, Santino calls us back.

“Before you go,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of years, “I want to thank you all. This is more than I ever hoped to see in my lifetime. Take care of this peace. It’s fragile, but it’s precious.”

We nod solemnly, the old man’s words a reminder of the responsibility we now share. As we file out of the room, Felicity takes my arm, glowing with pride and hope. “You actually did it.”

I shake my head, pulling her close. “We did it. All of us, and this is just the beginning.”

A couple of weeks later,the elegant dining room of Santino’s estate buzzes with conversation and laughter. Crystal chandeliers illuminate the gathered family members. I stand near the head of the table, watching as Felicity helps her father into his seat.

Santino’s health has improved significantly since our last meeting. His color has returned, and though he still moves slowly, there’s newfound strength in his movements. He smiles at Felicity, patting her hand as she settles beside him.

“Thank you, my dear,” he says, his voice stronger than I’ve heard it in months.

I raise my glass, drawing everyone’s attention. “A toast,” I announce. “To peace, to family, and to Santino’s health.”

The room echoes with the clink of glasses and murmurs of agreement. Damiano, seated across from me, nods in acknowledgment. The tension that once existed between us has eased, replaced by cautious respect.

“Who would have thought we’d be here, eh?” Sean O’Malley’s booming voice carries from the other end of the table. “The Irish, the Russians, and the Sicilians, breaking bread together.”

Laughter ripples through the room. I catch Felicity’s gaze, and she smiles, a hint of pride in her expression. This peace, fragile as it may be, is largely due to her efforts.

As the first course is served, conversation flows freely. Stories of past rivalries are shared, now laced with humor rather than bitterness. Damiano regales the table with a tale of a botched shipment that nearly sparked a war between our families years ago.

“There we were,” he says, gesturing with his fork, “Guns drawn, ready to start shooting, and then we realize, the shipment we’re fighting over? It’s full of knock-off designer handbags.”

The table erupts in laughter. Even I chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

As the night progresses, I slowly relax, truly enjoying the company. It’s a strange feeling, being among those I once considered enemies, but as I watch Felicity interact with her newfound family, this is exactly what we’ve been working toward.

As dessert is served, Felicity stands, gently tapping her water glass. The room falls silent, all gazes turning to her.

“I just wanted to say a few words,” she says, her voice clear and confident. “A few months ago, I never could have imagined being here, surrounded by all of you. My life has changed in ways I never expected, but I’m grateful for where it’s led me.”

She looks around the table, lingering on each face. “To my father, Santino, I’m so happy to see you recovering. To my brother, Damiano, I look forward to getting to know you better. To Sean and his family, thank you for being open to this new alliance.”

Finally, she looks at me with love and tenderness. “And to Kiril, my husband. Thank you for your strength, your protection, and your love.”

My chest constricts at her words. As she sits down, I reach for her hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. The rest of the evening passes in a blur of conversation and laughter. As the night winds down, guests begin to depart. Felicity and I say our goodbyes, promising to visit again soon.

As we step outside into the cool night air, she rests against me, her body warm against mine. “That went well, don’t you think?” she asks.

I nod, wrapping an arm around her thickening waist. “Better than I could have hoped. You were amazing in there.”

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