Page 71 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

We part ways, each heading back to our respective territories. As I drive home, I think about Felicity and the child growing inside her. This alliance with Damiano is a risk, but it’s one I have to take. For them and for our future. There’s work to be done and preparations to be made, but for now, I just want to hold Felicity and remind myself for what I’m fighting.

31

Felicity

The soft strains of Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake” fill the studio as I guide my young students through their final positions. Their faces beam with pride, and I smile back. Teaching ballet has always been my passion, even more so now that it offers a brief respite from the complexities of my new life. With my morning sickness finally settling down now that I’ve hit the thirteenth week, teaching is purely enjoyable again.

“Excellent work, everyone. Remember to practice your arabesques for next week,” I say, clapping my hands together.

As the children file out, chattering excitedly, I notice a striking teenager with fiery red hair waiting by the door. She’s tall for her age, with a willowy frame that speaks of natural grace. Her bright green eyes sparkle with anticipation as she watches the departing class.

I approach her, curious. “Hello. Are you here for the Intermediate Teen class?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yes, Ms. Morris.” Her gaze drops to my name tag briefly. I’m using my maiden name to reduce the risk of association with the Pimaslov name for added security. “I’m Siobhan O’Malley. It’s my first day.”

The name sounds familiar, and I struggle to keep my expression neutral. O’Malley, the Irish mob. Kiril hasn’t shared much about the Irish threat, but I’ve pieced together enough to know they’re a formidable force and overheard the O’Malley name a few times over the past month. Could this girl be related to their leader? It’s a common name.

“Welcome, Siobhan. I’m looking forward to having you in class. Why don’t you go change, and we’ll get started soon?”

As Siobhan hurries off to the changing room, I frown, centering myself. I can’t let my newfound knowledge of the underworld affect how I treat my students. Here, in this studio, I’m just a dance teacher.

The next class files in as Siobhan takes her place at the barre, her posture already impeccable. As I begin the warm-up exercises, I notice her natural talent. She moves with a fluidity that usually takes years to develop.

“Excellent extension, Siobhan,” I praise, guiding her leg a fraction higher. “You’ve clearly had some training before.”

She beams at the compliment. “Thank you, Ms. Morris. My dad’s always made sure I had the best teachers.”

“Oh? And what does your father do?” I ask, keeping my tone light and conversational.

Siobhan’s face clouds for a moment before she smiles again. “He’s in business. Import-export, I think, but he doesn’t really talk about work at home.”

I nod, not pressing further. As the class progresses, I’m constantly drawn to Siobhan. Her talent is undeniable, but there’s also a vulnerability in her that causes a motherly concern. Does she know about her father’s real business? Is she as innocent as I was before Kiril entered my life?

After class, as the other students file out, Siobhan lingers, practicing a particularly challenging combination. I approach her, unable to resist my curiosity. “You did wonderfully today, Siobhan. Have you considered auditioning for any companies?”

She shakes her head with a hint of sadness. “Dad says dance is just a hobby. He wants me to focus on my studies.”

I frown slightly. “But you clearly have a passion for it, and talent like yours shouldn’t go to waste.”

Siobhan shrugs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “It doesn’t matter. Dad’s word is law in our house.”

The phrase makes me tremble slightly, reminding me of the world I’ve married into. I want to tell her that she has choices, that she doesn’t have to follow in her father’s footsteps, but I know how complicated family loyalties can be.

“You’re always welcome here,” I say instead, giving her a warm smile. “This studio can be a place where you can just be yourself.”

She smiles, revealing a dimple. “Really? Thank you, Ms. Morris. I don’t have many places like that.”

As she gathers her things to leave, a tall, broad-shouldered man with fiery red hair, a lush beard, and green eyes, an older, male version of Siobhan, enters the studio. His presence fills the room, and I instantly know who he is. Even if I hadn’t heard the name O’Malley before today, he’d scream danger.

“Ready to go, princess?” he asks Siobhan, his voice a deep rumble but tinged with gentleness for her.

Siobhan nods, her demeanor suddenly more reserved. “Yes, Dad. This is my new teacher, Ms. Morris.”

Sean O’Malley turns his gaze to me, and I force myself not to look away. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Malley. Siobhan is a talented dancer.”

He studies me for a moment, and I wonder if he knows who I am, and to whom I’m married. “Thank you for teaching her,” he says finally. “It’s important for young ladies to have grace.”

The way he says it makes me think he’s not just talking about dancing. I nod, maintaining my composure. “Of course. I look forward to seeing Siobhan in future classes.”

---