Page 74 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

I eye her with curiosity. “Yes.”

“It is to me too. I can’t compromise my honor and tell you my source, but I told you what you needed to know. Please let it go for now?”

I sigh, feeling the resistance drain from me. “I’ll try, but will you tell me soon?”

“As soon as I can.”

That’ll have to do. I pull her into a kiss, preferring not to be at odds with her, though I’m still burning with curiosity to know how she found out about stirrings of trouble even before Yuri or Viktor. I’ll let it go… for now.

Hours later, I’m seated at a table in “Bellini’s” private dining room, waiting for O’Malley to arrive. The room is tastefully decorated, with soft lighting and elegant furnishings. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the table between us, untouched.

The door opens, and Sean O’Malley strides in, flanked by two of his men. He’s a big man, with fiery red hair and a beard to match. His green eyes are sharp and calculating as they meet mine.

“Pimaslov,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Nice place you’ve picked for our little chat.”

I stand, extending my hand. “O’Malley. Please, have a seat.”

He shakes my hand firmly before sitting across from me. His men take up positions by the door, mirroring my own security detail.

I pour us each a glass of whiskey, sliding one toward him. “I trust you know why I’ve called this meeting.”

O’Malley takes a sip, savoring the burn. “I’ve got some ideas, yeah, but why don’t you enlighten me?”

I keep my voice low but dangerous. “Your men were seen in my territory last night. Care to explain?”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “New York’s a big city, Pimaslov. My boys like to go out and have a good time now and then.”

“Cut the bullshit, Sean,” I snap. “They were casing ‘Club Noir’ and ‘The Red Room.’ Those are my establishments.”

O’Malley’s eyes narrow. “Are they now? I wasn’t aware you had exclusive rights to the entire nightclub district.”

I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting the tension build. “It’s been under my protection for years. You know this.”

“Times change,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe it’s time for some new blood in the area.”

I glare at him. “New blood? That’s an interesting choice of words. I hope you’re not implying what I think you are.”

O’Malley shrugs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not implying anything, Pimaslov. I’m stating facts. The nightclub district is prime real estate, and it’s time for a change.”

“A change?” I scoff, taking another sip of whiskey. “You mean a hostile takeover. Let’s call it what it is, Sean.”

He leans back in his chair, spreading his arms wide. “Business is business, Kiril. You of all people should understand that.”

I set down my glass, my fingers tracing the rim. “I understand perfectly. What I don’t understand is why you think you can waltz into my territory, or the Sicilians’, without consequences.”

O’Malley’s eyes narrow. “Are you threatening me, Pimaslov?”

“Not at all,” I say, my voice dangerously calm. “I’m simply reminding you of the natural order of things. You stick to your turf, Santino, now Damiano, sticks to his, and I stick to mine. It’s worked well for years.”

His eyes narrow. “Times change, Kiril, and so do alliances. I hear your new pal’s weapon shipments have been running into some difficulties lately.”

My jaw tightens, but I keep my expression neutral. “Is that so? And where did you hear that?” So, he’s aware of the escalating tension between Damiano and me, but it doesn’t seem like he knows about our truce yet.

O’Malley smirks. “I have my sources. Just like I’m sure you have yours. Speaking of which, how are your friends in City Hall these days? Still playing nice?”

I take another sip of whiskey, buying time to formulate my response. “They’re doing well. Thank you for asking. Always happy to grease the wheels of progress, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” says O’Malley with a cold grin. “It would be a shame if someone were to expose those connections. Might make things difficult for your operations.”

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