Page 78 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

Kiril

Istride down the hallway of the dance studio, the scent of sweat and the fading notes of classical music lingering in the air. I’m early to pick up Felicity, hoping to surprise her with dinner plans. As I approach her classroom, I hear her voice, soft and encouraging.

“That’s it, Siobhan. Beautiful extension. Remember to keep your core engaged.”

I freeze. Siobhan? That’s an Irish name, and according to Viktor’s research, O’Malley’s daughter has that moniker. It could be as common as Jane for all I know, but I’m wary as I peer through the small window in the door. Felicity stands in the center of the room, demonstrating a graceful arabesque. A slender girl with fiery red hair mimics the pose, her freckled face scrunched in concentration.

My jaw clenches. Felicity knows this girl. She’s teaching her, and she never told me. Her source suddenly makes sense, and I’m quietly convinced the girl in there is O’Malley’s daughter.

The class wraps up, and I step back as the door opens. A stream of young dancers flows out, chattering excitedly. Last to emerge is Siobhan, her green eyes bright with exertion, as my beautiful, possibly treacherous, wife follows her.

“Thanks, Ms. Morris. See you next week.”

Felicity waves goodbye, her smile warm and genuine. “Great job today, Siobhan. Keep practicing those turns at home.”

As Siobhan disappears down the hallway, I step into view. Felicity’s eyes dilate with surprise, then recognition. “Kiril. I didn’t expect you so early.” She seems nervous.

I don’t return her smile. “We need to talk.”

Her expression falters. “Is everything okay?”

“Not here,” I say, grasping firmly to my control. “Let’s go.”

I lead her out of the studio, my hand firm on her lower back. We walk in tense silence to the waiting car. Once inside, I signal the driver to take us home, and she’s vibrating with tension. So am I.

Felicity turns to me, confusion etched on her face. “Kiril, what’s wrong?”

I give her a hard look. “When were you planning to tell me about Siobhan O’Malley?” I ask like I’m already certain that’s who the girl is, because I am.

She pales slightly. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“Not important?” My voice rises. “You’re teaching the daughter of our biggest rival, and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

Felicity flinches. “She’s just a student, Kiril. A thirteen-year-old girl, who loves to dance. It has nothing to do with our business.”

I laugh humorlessly. “Everything has to do with our business. You know that.”

“She barely knows anything about her father’s activities,” she says sharply. “I told you the only important thing she ever shared.”

“That’s not the point,” I snap. “You kept this from me. You lied by omission.”

Felicity’s lips purse. “I didn’t lie. I just wanted to protect her and give her a safe space away from all of this.”

“That’s not your job,” I say, my voice cold. “Your loyalty should be to me, to our family.”

“My loyalty is to you, but I also have a responsibility to my students. They trust me.”

I study her without blinking. “And what if O’Malley finds out? What if he uses this connection against us?”

Felicity shakes her head. “He won’t. Siobhan doesn’t even know who I am beyond being her dance teacher.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” I argue. “This is a liability we can’t afford.”

“So what do you want me to do?” asks Felicity, her voice rising. “Kick her out of the class? Break a young girl’s heart because of who her father is?”

I pause, considering. As much as I hate to admit it, Felicity has a point. Alienating O’Malley’s daughter could backfire spectacularly.

“No,” I say finally. “But from now on, I want to know everything. No more secrets, Felicity. Not even small ones.”

---