Page 72 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

As they leave, I’m hit by several emotions. Concern for Siobhan, wariness of Sean O’Malley, and a growing realization of just how intertwined the underworld is with everyday life. I think of Kiril, wondering how he’ll react when I tell him about my new student.

The studio feels suddenly empty, and I find myself longing for the simplicity of my old life. As I gather my things to leave, I remind myself that for better or worse, this is my world now, and perhaps, in some small way, I can make a difference, even if it’s just giving a young girl like Siobhan a place to dance freely.

32

Felicity

Ienter the studio, the familiar scent of rosin and sweat welcoming me. It’s been a couple of weeks since Siobhan’s first class, and I’m curious to see how she’s progressing. She’s taken a liking to me, but I also adore her, which makes me feel awful each time I consider how closely connected her world is to mine, and the potential for betrayal if I say the wrong thing to the wrong person.

As I set up the music, I hear hushed voices near the changing room.

“Dad’s been so stressed lately,” whispers Siobhan. “He barely sleeps, and he’s always on the phone.”

I pause, straining to hear more without appearing to eavesdrop.

“Is it because of his business?” asks another girl.

Siobhan sighs. “Yeah. He keeps talking about ‘those Russian guys’ and how they’re messing up everything.”

My heart races. Russian guys? Is she talking about Kiril and his men?

I clear my throat, approaching the girls. “Ready for class, ladies?”

They jump, startled. Siobhan’s face flushes. “Yes, Ms. Morris. Sorry, we were just chatting.”

“No worries. Let’s get started with our warm-up.”

As the class progresses, I keep a close eye on Siobhan. Her movements are graceful but distracted. When we break into smaller groups, I seize the opportunity.

“Siobhan, can you help me demonstrate this combination?”

She nods eagerly, joining me at the front of the class. As we move through the steps, I lower my voice.

“Is everything okay at home? You seem a bit distracted today.”

Her expression is evasive. “Oh, um, everything’s fine.”

I give her a gentle smile. “You know, sometimes it helps to talk about things. If you ever need someone to listen, I’m here.”

She hesitates, then nods. “Thanks, Ms. Morris.”

After class, as the other students file out, she lingers. She approaches me, nervously twisting her hands. “Ms. Morris? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

She takes a deep breath. “It’s my dad. He’s been really stressed lately. With work and stuff.”

I nod encouragingly. “That must be hard for you to see.”

“Yeah. It’s just that I think I know what he really does for work, and it scares me.”

My heart aches for her. I remember the shock of learning about my history, Santino’s business, and how it affects me, and I was an adult. “What do you mean?”

Siobhan lowers her voice. “I’ve overheard things. Phone calls and conversations with his friends. They talk about territories and shipments, and weapons.”

I keep my expression neutral, despite the alarm bells ringing in my head. “That sounds scary. Have you talked to your dad about this?”

She vehemently shakes her head. “No way. He’d freak out if he knew I suspected anything, but lately, it’s been worse. He’s always angry, talking about Russians and Sicilians messing with his plans.”

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