Page 87 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

I swallow hard, unsure how to respond. Our relationship has improved over the past two years, but there’s still a chasm between us, years of absence and secrets that can’t be easily bridged.

“You’re here now,” I finally say, offering a small smile. “That’s what matters.”

Santino nods, blinking rapidly. He turns his attention back to Susie, but his shoulders sag for a moment, until Susie makes him smile again.

Kiril squeezes my hand. “Why don’t we have lunch on the terrace? It’s a beautiful day.”

As we settle around the table, Susie perched on Santino’s lap, I marvel at how much has changed. My father, once a distant figure shrouded in mystery, now sits across from me, coaxing my daughter to eat her vegetables.

“So, have you thought of names for the newbambino?” asks Santino, wiping Susie’s face with a napkin.

I exchange a glance with Kiril. “We have a few ideas, but we’re keeping them to ourselves for now.”

Santino nods, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. I know he’s trying, the weekly visits, the gifts for Susie, and his attempts to involve himself in our lives, but trust is a delicate thing, easily broken and painstakingly rebuilt.

As lunch progresses, I manage to relax, drawn into the easy conversation. Santino shares stories from his youth in Sicily, carefully edited for Susie’s ears. For a moment, I can almost forget the complexities of our world, the dangers that lurk just beyond our peaceful afternoon, and I cling to the fragile bond I share with the man who fathered me.

Slowly, it’s healing and becoming something important as I move past old hurts. It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen. Someday, I might even feel ready to call him Papa instead of Santino, but not today.

The children twirland leap across the polished wooden floor of my dance studio. The sound of classical music fills the air, punctuated by giggles and excited chatter. It’s been two yearssince we established this neutral ground, and the transformation is remarkable.

Siobhan, now fifteen, leads a group of younger girls through a series of graceful movements. Her red hair, tied back in a neat bun, gleams under the studio lights. Beside her, Tony attempts to mimic her steps with less finesse but equal enthusiasm.

“Excellent form, Siobhan,” I call out, smiling as she beams with pride. “Tony, remember to keep your back straight. That’s it.”

As I move through the studio, offering guidance and encouragement, I catch sight of Viktor standing by the door. His presence is a constant reminder of the world that exists beyond these walls. He nods at me but continues scanning the room with practiced vigilance.

“Ms. Moore?” I look down to see Lev, one of Kiril’s captains’ sons, tugging at my leotard. “Can you show me the jump again?”

I kneel beside him, demonstrating the move slowly due to my belly as much as the need to keep it simple for him. “Like this. Remember, it’s all in the preparation. Take a deep breath, bend your knees, and then... push.”

He nods solemnly, his little face scrunched in concentration as he attempts the jump. I clap as he lands, wobbling slightly but grinning from ear to ear.

“Well done.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Keep practicing, and you’ll be soaring across the stage in no time.”

As the class winds down, parents begin to arrive. I watch as children from different families, once bitter enemies, chat and laugh together as they gather their belongings. It’s a sight that still amazes me.

Sean O’Malley strides in, his imposing frame filling the doorway. Siobhan runs to him, throwing her arms around his waist. “Dad. Did you see my pirouette? Miss Felicity said it was perfect.”

Sean’s face softens as he looks at his daughter. “I’m sure it was. You’re becoming quite the dancer.”

I approach them, smiling. “Siobhan’s progressing wonderfully, Mr. O’Malley. She’s a natural leader in the class.”

Sean nods with pride. “Thank you for everything you’re doing here, Felicity. It’s good to see the kids like this.”

I understand the full meaning behind his words. This studio represents more than just dance lessons. It’s a glimpse of a different life free from the violence and rivalries that have defined the underworld for so long.

“It’s my pleasure,” I say sincerely. “They’re all wonderful children.”

As Sean and Siobhan leave, Isabella enters the studio, pushing Carmella in her stroller. Tony runs to her, chattering excitedly about the day’s lesson to his mother and his baby sister. Isabella and I lock gazes and exchange smiles.

“Tony, why don’t you go change?” I say as I approach. “I’d like to speak with your mother for a moment.”

Tony scampers off, and she asks, “How is he doing?”

“He’s improving every day. He wants it so badly, and his enthusiasm is infectious. The other children adore him.”

She grins. “Thank you, Felicity. This means more than you know. To see him happy, to see him just being a child, and living with Damiano...” The overhead light glints off her diamond-encrusted wedding band. “Before you and Kiril, he was too afraid for us to let us fully into his life. Now…” She trails off with a happy sigh as Carmella tosses her pacifier. Fortunately, it’s clipped to her shirt, which makes her grunt with annoyance. We trade a laugh at the infant’s antics.

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