Arranged Mafia Marriage

Chapter 6Kiril

6

Kiril

T he private jet touches down at Teterboro Airport, and I guide Felicity down the steps onto the tarmac. She looks around quickly as she follows me to the sleek black SUV waiting for us.

“Welcome to New York,” I say, opening the car door for her.

She slides in, glancing nervously around the vehicle’s interior. “It’s nice.”

I join her, signaling the driver to start moving. “We’ll be at the penthouse soon. Try to relax.”

Felicity nods, twisting her fingers in her lap. The city unfolds outside the tinted windows, a concrete jungle of towering skyscrapers and lively streets. I watch her reaction, gauging her comfort level.

“Have you been to New York before?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No, never. It’s a bit overwhelming, if I’m being honest. There’s just so much going on, so many people and cars.”

“You’ll get used to it, and you might even come to like it,” I say, placing my hand over hers. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

I keep up a light flow of conversation as we drive, giving her the tourist experience from the car as Viktor drives us home. Soon, the car pulls up to a grand high-rise on the Upper East Side.

While Viktor takes the Mercedes to the parking garage behind the building, I lead Felicity through the lobby, nodding at the doorman as we enter the private elevator. She gasps softly as we ascend to the top floor.

The elevator doors open directly into the penthouse foyer, just like our honeymoon suite, I think with a tinge of longing, wishing we could have spent more time there. Felicity steps out, blinking as she takes in the opulent space. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase panoramic views of Central Park and the city skyline.

“This is incredible.”

I allow myself a small smile of satisfaction. “I’m glad you like it. This will be your home now.”

A warm voice calls out from the kitchen. “Ah, you’re back. Welcome home, Mr. Pimaslov.”

My housekeeper, Elena Markova, emerges, wiping her hands on her apron. Her eyes crinkle at the sides as she smiles at Felicity. “And you must be the new Mrs. Pimaslov. Welcome, my dear. I’m Elena, the housekeeper.”

Felicity extends her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Elena. Please, call me Felicity.”

Elena bypasses the handshake and pulls Felicity into a gentle hug. “Nonsense, child. We’re family now.”

Some of the tension visibly leaves Felicity’s shoulders. Elena has always had that effect on people.

“Come, let me show you to your room,” says Elena, guiding Felicity down the hallway. “You must be exhausted from your journey.”

I follow behind as Elena leads us to a set of double doors. She opens them with a flourish, revealing a spacious bedroom decorated in soft blues and creams.

“This will be your room, my dear. Mr. Pimaslov’s room is right next door, through that connecting door.” She points to a door on the far wall.

Felicity seems startled at having separate rooms, but she nods. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“I’ll leave you to get settled,” she says. “Lunch will be ready in an hour. I’ve made borscht, my specialty.”

As Elena leaves, I turn to Felicity. “Is there anything you need?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

I nod, sensing her desire for space. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. Feel free to explore the penthouse, but if you find anything unusual, it’s best to leave it alone.”

I leave her to unpack and settle in, retreating to my study where I’m able to relax with a cigar. I trust Felicity so far, especially since what happened after the wedding, but there’s always going to be an edge of uncertainty until she settles in and accepts her role as my wife.

I’m trying to be trusting, though. I’ve left my guns and things around the place, not bothering to pack them up. If Felicity wanted me dead for what I’ve done to her, she’d take matters into her own hands rather quickly, I assume, but I believe I’ve done a good enough job convincing her otherwise.

Smoke rising from the end of my cigar as I recline in my seat. I can’t stop thinking about the sounds that were coming out of Felicity’s pretty mouth, the way her brown eyes lit up when she was so close to the edge. It’s going to drive me crazy until I can have her again, but I don’t want to overwhelm her. I must give her time to adjust. She’s probably still sore.

An hour later, my cigar is nearly finished, and Elena’s voice calls us to dinner. Felicity is sitting at the dining table when I walk in, looking slightly more relaxed. Her shoulders aren’t pulled up quite so high, and her eyes are bright with the anticipation of good food.

The rich aroma of borscht fills the air as Elena serves us. Felicity takes a tentative sip and hums her appreciation. “This is delicious, Elena,” she says. “I’ve never had borscht before.”

The housekeeper beams. “I’m glad you like it, dear. It’s an old family recipe.”

As we eat, I observe Felicity. She’s still tense, but some of the fear has left her posture. It’s a start. “Tomorrow, we’ll need to discuss your security detail,” I say to her as I spoon soup into my mouth. “And we should go over the household rules and expectations.”

Felicity nods, her spoon pausing halfway to her mouth. “Of course. Whatever you think is best.”

I frown slightly at her resigned tone. “Your input matters too, Felicity. This is your home now as well.”

She looks up, surprise flickering across her face. “Oh. Thank you. I’ll try to think what I’d like, but things are already nice around here.”

I’m irritated at her sudden complacency, though I should be happy to have her cooperation. My goal was to put her in a mental box labeled “Wife” and only deal with her when I had to but meeting her has ruined everything. Now, I have feelings, and those tend to makes things more complicated than they should be.

By the time we finish dessert, Elena’s homemade apple pie, Felicity looks more at ease than I’ve seen her since our first meeting.

“Thank you for lunch, Elena,” she says when the housekeeper comes to collect the dishes, stifling a yawn. “It was wonderful.”

Elena pats her hand. “You’re very welcome, dear. You look like you could use a nap.”

Felicity seems ready to demur but yawns again. “Maybe so. The last couple of days…” She trails off with a long sigh.

As Felicity stands, I rise as well. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

We move down the hallway in silence. At her door, she pauses, her hand on the knob. “I’m really going to try to adapt. I just wanted you to know that.”

I nod, unsure how to respond. “Have a nice nap, Felicity. We’ll talk more over dinner.”

She gives me a small smile before slipping into her room. I stand there for a moment, listening to the soft sounds of her moving about.

This isn’t how I imagined my marriage would begin, but as I head to my own room, I’m oddly hopeful. Perhaps, in time, we can make this work as true partners, not just business partners. It’s a strange and heady thought, though opening myself to having feelings for her raises the stakes. It would be bad to lose a wife with whom I have a respectful accord, but it would be devastating to lose one I truly love.