Page 44 of The Mafia King's Baby

He looks vaguely amused. “I don’t know much about her, but I can tell she won’t like that.”

I scowl at him. “She doesn’t have to like it. She just has to stay alive.” Even as I say the words, I know they’re not enough. Celia isn’t the type to accept protection passively, especially not when that protection feels like imprisonment. She’ll push back, demand to be included, and argue she has a right to participate in decisions that affect her future.

She’ll be right, and that makes the forthcoming conversation harder than it should be.

I finish reviewing the intelligence reports and coordinating with our other assets before heading to Celia’s room. The sun is setting outside the compound’s windows when I knock on her door, and she opens it immediately, like she was waiting for me.

She’s changed clothes since our conversation yesterday, wearing jeans and a different sweater that brings out the green in her hazel eyes. Her hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail, and she looks more like the woman who rented me her guest room than the fugitive who helped me bury a federal agent.

“Come in.” She steps aside to let me enter, then closes the door behind us. “You look like you have news.”

“Some.” I remain standing near the door while she settles into the chair by the window. “Two FBI agents are asking questionsin Lake Tahoe. They’re investigating Lang’s disappearance, following his last known movements.”

Her face goes pale, but her voice remains steady. “Have they connected anything to me?”

“Not yet. Your sudden departure is raising questions, but there’s no direct evidence linking you to Lang or his activities. With some finessing or a judge in their pocket, they’ll be able to get a search warrant though.” I hesitate. “My cleaners are good, but there’s always a possibility…”

She looks resigned. “Yes.”

I move to the window and look out at the forest, using the view to organize my thoughts. “Leonid has confirmed that Lang was working with several other corrupt agents and officials. We’re going to approach one of them for information.”

“Approach how?”

“Judge Manlio Moretti owes me a favor, and he knows more about federal corruption than anyone else in Washington.” I turn to face her directly. “I’m meeting with him as soon as Leonid can arrange it.”

Celia leans forward in her chair, her attention sharpening. “Where?”

“D.C. It will be a brief trip, in and out as quickly as possible.”

Her lips firm. “I’m going with you.”

The statement isn’t a request or a suggestion. It’s a declaration, delivered with the kind of quiet determination that tells me she’s already made up her mind and won’t be easily dissuaded. “No.”

“Yes.” She stands and walks toward me, closing the distance between us. “I’m not staying here while you go handle threats.”

I glare at her, keeping my expression stern. “The threats exist because of me, not you. You’re a victim in this situation, not a participant.”

She snorts. “I became a participant the moment I helped you wrap Lang’s body in my living room rug.” Her voice carries edge now, frustration breaking through her usual composure. “I’m not going to sit in this compound like some helpless princess while you decide my fate without my input.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “You’ll be safer here.”

She mimics the motion, perhaps subconsciously. “I’ll be safer with you. At least then I’ll know what’s happening instead of waiting for someone else to decide what information I’m allowed to have.”

The argument is logical and infuriating in equal measure. She’s right that keeping her informed gives her more control over her situation, but she’s wrong about the safety calculation. Washington, D.C. is dangerous territory right now, being full of federal agents and corrupt officials who would see her as either a target or a tool. “This isn’t a negotiation, Celia. I’m not risking your life because you don’t like being protected.”

“And I’m not accepting your protection if it means being treated like property instead of a partner.” She leans forward slightly as she issues the words.

The word partner hits differently than it did yesterday, reminding me it’s not just an alliance of convenience, but something deeper and more complicated that requires mutual respect and shared decision-making, even when one partnerhas significantly more experience with violence and criminal activity. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Then explain it to me instead of dismissing my concerns.”

I move closer to her, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes and catch the scent of the soap she used in her shower. “D.C. is full of people who want me dead or imprisoned, including federal agents, rival criminals, and corrupt officials, who see me as a threat to their operations. Taking you there exposes you to all of those dangers.”

“Leaving me here exposes me to different dangers. What if something happens to you? What if you don’t come back?” Her voice softens, carrying vulnerability she’s trying to hide. “What if I’m left alone in this compound with no idea what’s happening or how to protect myself?”

The fear in her voice hits me. It’s not fear of federal agents or Russian criminals, but fear of abandonment. Fear that I’ll disappear, leaving her to face consequences she can’t predict or control. “Nothing will happen to me.” I try to sound soothing.

She gives me a stony look. “You can’t guarantee that.”

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