Page 12 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

“What’s our status?” asks Kiril.

Viktor types for a moment. “Our people lost Damiano’s man at the airport. He must have realized we were onto him. No sign of pursuit, but I’ve got people watching all possible routes.”

“Good.” Kiril turns to me. “I’m sorry about this, Felicity. I had hoped we’d have more time.”

“Where are we going?” I ask though I already know the answer.

“New York City, as we planned,” he says.

I want to argue, not sure I’m ready to meet the man who fathered me or face all the aspects of my new life, but the exhaustion of the past day catches up with me. I yawn, unable to stifle it.

His expression softens. “Get some rest. We have a long flight ahead of us.”

I nod, reclining my seat. As I drift off, Kiril and Viktor talk in low voices, discussing strategy and contingencies. It’s oddly comforting to have them so calmly discuss options and outcomes with clear confidence they can handle anything that arises.

My last thought before sleep claims me is that my life has become unrecognizable in a single day.

6

Kiril

The private jet touches down at Teterboro Airport, and I guide Felicity down the steps onto the tarmac. She looks around quickly as she follows me to the sleek black SUV waiting for us.

“Welcome to New York,” I say, opening the car door for her.

She slides in, glancing nervously around the vehicle’s interior. “It’s nice.”

I join her, signaling the driver to start moving. “We’ll be at the penthouse soon. Try to relax.”

Felicity nods, twisting her fingers in her lap. The city unfolds outside the tinted windows, a concrete jungle of towering skyscrapers and lively streets. I watch her reaction, gauging her comfort level.

“Have you been to New York before?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No, never. It’s a bit overwhelming, if I’m being honest. There’s just so much going on, so many people and cars.”

“You’ll get used to it, and you might even come to like it,” I say, placing my hand over hers. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

I keep up a light flow of conversation as we drive, giving her the tourist experience from the car as Viktor drives us home. Soon, the car pulls up to a grand high-rise on the Upper East Side.

While Viktor takes the Mercedes to the parking garage behind the building, I lead Felicity through the lobby, nodding at the doorman as we enter the private elevator. She gasps softly as we ascend to the top floor.

The elevator doors open directly into the penthouse foyer, just like our honeymoon suite, I think with a tinge of longing, wishing we could have spent more time there. Felicity steps out, blinking as she takes in the opulent space. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase panoramic views of Central Park and the city skyline.

“This is incredible.”

I allow myself a small smile of satisfaction. “I’m glad you like it. This will be your home now.”

A warm voice calls out from the kitchen. “Ah, you’re back. Welcome home, Mr. Pimaslov.”

My housekeeper, Elena Markova, emerges, wiping her hands on her apron. Her eyes crinkle at the sides as she smiles at Felicity. “And you must be the new Mrs. Pimaslov. Welcome, my dear. I’m Elena, the housekeeper.”

Felicity extends her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Elena. Please, call me Felicity.”

Elena bypasses the handshake and pulls Felicity into a gentle hug. “Nonsense, child. We’re family now.”

Some of the tension visibly leaves Felicity’s shoulders. Elena has always had that effect on people.

“Come, let me show you to your room,” says Elena, guiding Felicity down the hallway. “You must be exhausted from your journey.”

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