Page 45 of The Mafia King's Baby

She’s right, and we both know it. Every operation carries risk, every meeting with corrupt officials could be a trap, and every trip into hostile territory might be the last one. I’ve survived this long through careful planning and superior firepower, but luck plays a role too, and luck eventually runs out for everyone in my business. “I can’t guarantee your safety in Washington either.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to let me choose my own risks instead of having them chosen for me.”

The conversation has shifted from logistics to philosophy, from tactical considerations to questions about autonomy and partnership. She’s not just arguing about this specific trip but about the fundamental terms of our relationship going forward.

“If something happens to you because I brought you along, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“If something happens to you because I stayed behind, I’ll never forgive you either.”

We stare at each other across the small space between us, the tension thick and complicated. This isn’t just about Washington or corrupt judges or federal investigations. It’s about trust and control and what it means to be partners when one partner has spent years making life-or-death decisions alone.

“You’re incredibly stubborn.”

“So are you.”

The acknowledgment breaks something loose between us, diffusing the anger without resolving the underlying disagreement. We’re both right and both wrong, both trying to protect something that matters while ignoring valid concerns about methods and consequences.

“You’re not coming to Washington.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.” I step closer, using my height to emphasize the point. “This isn’t a discussion, Celia. It’s too dangerous.”

“Everything is dangerous now.” She moves closer too, not backing down despite the intensity in my voice. “At least inWashington I’ll know what’s happening instead of sitting here wondering if you’re dead or captured.”

“You’ll be wondering that either way. The difference is that in Washington, you might end up dead or captured too.”

She shrugs. “So might you, but you’re still going.”

I huff out an angry breath. “It’s my job, my world, and my responsibility.”

“And I’m your partner, which makes it my responsibility too.”

The word partner carries deeper associations I’m not ready to accept. Partnership requires equality, shared decision-making, and mutual respect for each other’s judgment. What we have is protection and dependence, not partnership. “You’re under my protection. That’s not the same thing.”

“It should be.” Her voice carries frustration and something deeper. “I’m not a child or a possession, Yefrem. I’m a grown woman who helped you bury a federal agent and drove across the country to hide in your fortress. I’ve earned the right to make my own choices.”

I shake my head, balking. “Not when those choices could get you killed.”

“That’s my risk to take.”

We’re standing close enough now that I can feel her breath on my cheek when she speaks emphatically. The argument is making my pulse race, but not just from anger or frustration.

“It’s my risk too.”

The conviction in her voice startles me. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.” I touch her face, tracing the line of hercheek with my fingers. The contact silences her argument, but it doesn’t resolve the tension between us. If anything, it makes it more complicated. “Why do you care so much about coming along?”

“Because waiting here, not knowing if you’re alive, will drive me insane.” Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. “Because I can’t lose you too.”

Too. The word is loaded like a shotgun. She’s already lost her home, her job, contact with her mother for months, her friends indefinitely, and everything in her normal life. The thought of losing me as well, of being left completely alone in a world she doesn’t understand, terrifies her.

“Celia…”

She steps close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her body. “I know this is complicated and you think I’m safer here, but I need to be with you, Yefrem. Not just protected by you.”

The distinction matters more than I want to admit. Protected suggests duty, obligation, and/or professional responsibility. With suggests choice, partnership, and something deeper than mere tactical considerations. “You’re asking me to risk everything that matters.”

“No.” She reaches up and touches my face the way I’m touching hers. “I’m asking you to let me choose my own risks instead of having them chosen for me.”

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