Page 21 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

“These are the positions Damiano’s men plan to take,” Kiril says, pointing to red Xs. “Approximately thirty of them.”

I frown. “What are you going to do?”

A predatory smile curves Kiril’s lips. “We’re going to outsmart them.”

Misha chuckles. “Oh, yeah, this is gonna be fun.”

Kiril outlines their plan explaining how he intends to deploy a fake shipment to draw Damiano’s men out while the real weapons are moved via a boat bearing a commercial cannery’s logo. The owner owes Kiril a boatload of money, no pun intended, and he has graciously volunteered the vehicle. I doubt it’s all that gracious, and the plan is clever but dangerous.

“I don’t like it,” I say when he finishes. “What if something goes wrong?”

Anya raises an eyebrow. “Getting cold feet already?”

I bristle at her tone. “No. I’m just concerned.”

“Your concern is noted, but unnecessary. We know what we’re doing,” Kiril says.

I want to argue, but I bite my tongue. I’m new to this world. What do I know about planning covert operations? It just seems dangerous, and the idea of losing my husband makes my stomach clench. I shouldn’t be reacting so strongly to the ideaconsidering the circumstances of our marriage, but yesterday showed me a different side of him, and I want a chance to know that one better before he gets himself killed.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask instead.

Kiril studies me for a moment. “Actually, yes. We need someone to coordinate communications between our teams. Someone Damiano’s men won’t instantly recognize.”

“Me?” I ask, surprised.

He nods. “You’re quick and adaptable. I think you can handle it.”

I’m stunned but pleased at his confidence in me. “Okay. What do I need to do?”

For the next hour, they brief me on the operation. Misha shows me how to use their secure communication system, and Anya drills me on code words and protocols. Gradually, her subtle disdain seems to fade as I absorb it all like a sponge.

As we wrap up, Kiril’s phone buzzes. He checks it and frowns.

“Problem?” asks Anya.

“Possibly. I need to take this.” He steps out of the office, leaving me alone with Anya and Misha.

An awkward silence falls. I fidget with the tie of my robe, unsure what to say, and stunned to realize I still haven’t gotten dressed. I was too engrossed.

Misha breaks the tension. “So, Felicity, you like video games?”

I blink at the non sequitur. “Uh, yeah, actually. Why?”

He grins and holds up his tablet. “I’ve got the latest ‘Call of Duty’ on here. Wanna play?”

I laugh, grateful for the distraction. “Sure, why not, after I change clothes.” I dash back to my room, not seeing Kiril along the way, and throw on real clothes before returning. We settle onto the couch, and soon, we’re absorbed in the game. Misha trash-talks good-naturedly as we play, and I give as good as I get.

Anya watches us with amusement. “Children,” she mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. I suspect I’ve passed some unspoken test in her mind.

Kiril returns a few minutes later, his expression grim. “We have a problem. Our informant in Damiano’s organization has gone dark.”

Anya curses under her breath. “Do you think they’ve been compromised?”

“It’s possible,” says Kiril. “We need to assume our plan has been exposed.”

My stomach twists with anxiety. “What does that mean for the operation?”

Our gazes lock, and I see a flicker of approval at my question. “It means we need to adapt. Quickly.”

---