Page 73 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

I swallow hard. “That must be very stressful for both of you.”

She nods, eyes filling with tears. “I’m worried about him. He doesn’t have anyone else to depend on. It’s just me and him since Mom died.”

I pull her into a hug as my thoughts race. This information could be valuable to Kiril, but using it feels wrong. Siobhan trusts me as her teacher, not as a mafia wife. “You’re safe here. This studio is a place where you can just be yourself, okay? You don’t have to worry about adult problems when you’re dancing.”

She pulls back, wiping her cheeks. “Thanks, Ms. Morris. You’re the only one I can talk to about this stuff.”

As she gathers her things to leave, I’m torn. Do I tell Kiril about this? The information could give him an advantage, but at whatcost? I watch Siobhan walk out, her shoulders a little lighter, and I can’t betray her trust, but I can’t ignore the potential danger either. If the Irish mob is planning something against Kiril and his men, I need to warn him, but how do I do that without revealing my source?

I sink onto the studio floor, the cool wood pressing against my skin. The simple life I once knew feels like a distant memory. Now, I’m caught between worlds and loyalties. My husband and our family on one side, my students and my passion for dance on the other.

As I sit there, trying to decide what to do, I realize every decision and every interaction is now colored by the world I’ve married into, and I have to find a way to navigate it without losing myself in the process.

I stand up, my decision made. I’ll tell Kiril about the increased Irish activity, but I won’t mention Siobhan. I’ll respect my student’s trust while still doing my duty to my husband and our family. It’s a delicate balance, but one I’m determined to maintain.

33

Kiril

The phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. I answer it, my voice calm despite the tension coursing through me. My wife just hinted that she’s heard from somewhere that the Irish are getting bolder, but she refused to reveal her source. I’m irritated, she’s irritated with my pressure, and we’re both currently on opposite sides of the penthouse to cool off.

“Kiril, we’ve got a problem,” says Viktor without preamble. “O’Malley’s men were spotted in the nightclub district last night. They’re making moves.”

I sit up straighter, my jaw tightening. “How many?”

“At least a dozen. They were scoping out ‘Club Noir’ and ‘The Red Room.’”

“Damn,” I mutter. Those are two of our most profitable venues. “Any confrontations?”

“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Our boys are on edge.”

I scowl, considering our options. “We can’t let this escalate. Set up a meeting with O’Malley. Neutral ground.”

“Where?”

I think for a moment. “The private dining room at ‘Bellini’s.’ It’s upscale enough for this kind of meeting, and the owner owes me a favor.”

“Got it. When?”

“Tonight. The sooner we nip this in the bud, the better.”

Viktor agrees and hangs up to make the arrangements. I stand, walking to the window overlooking the city. The nightclub district has been a point of contention for years, but it’s always been under our control. If O’Malley thinks he can muscle in, he’s in for a rude awakening.

I seek out Felicity, who is in the home studio I had built for her, stretching. I clear my throat. “Viktor just confirmed your intel.”

She seems surprised but nods. “What’ll you do?”

“I’m trying to meet with O’Malley.”

Her eyes narrow, and something about her stance tells me she knows exactly who I mean. “That’s probably a good idea. Maybe you can find a diplomatic solution.”

I curse, suddenly angry again. “Why are you hiding the source of your information?”

She glares at me. “Because it doesn’t matter. It’s verified now. Let it go.”

“I hate secrets between us.” I meant to sound irate, but I just sound morose.

Her expression shifts, and she abandons her stretching to come to me, taking my hand. She kisses my knuckles. “Honor is important to you?”

---