Arranged Mafia Marriage

Chapter 19Felicity

19

Felicity

A few nights later, the glittering lights of Atlantic City dazzle my eyes as Kiril and I step out of the limousine that met us at the airstrip. I’ve never been here before, and the energy of the place is electrifying. Kiril’s hand rests on the small of my back, guiding me toward the entrance of a luxurious casino.

“Ready for your first high-stakes poker game, darling?” he asks with amusement.

I nod, smoothing down my form-fitting black dress. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I’ve never played poker but spent the last few days learning everything I could. It doesn’t seem like enough when going against other members of the bratva extended network. “Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

“It’s tradition,” he says as we enter the opulent lobby. “Everyone gathers once a year for this game. It’s part business, part pleasure.”

“Right,” I say with a thin smile. “Mostly business this time, I assume.”

He shrugs. “I guess we’ll see where the night takes us.”

We’re led to a private room, where several well-dressed men and women are already mingling. The air is thick with cigar smoke and the clink of crystal glasses. A waiter passes by with a tray of champagne, and I snag two flutes, handing one to Kiril. I won’t be drinking mine since I’m pregnant, but it gives me something to do with my hands.

“Kiril.” A booming voice calls out. A large man with a salt-and-pepper beard approaches us, clapping Kiril on the back. “Good to see you, my friend, and who is this lovely creature?”

Kiril’s arm wraps possessively around my waist. “Dmitri, meet my wife, Felicity.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Wife? When did this happen?”

“Recently,” I interject, offering my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dmitri.”

He takes my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “The pleasure is all mine. Kiril is a lucky man.”

As we chat with Dmitri, I notice a waiter hovering nearby, looking nervously around the room. Something about his behavior seems off, reminding me of the time I was almost strangled to death, but before I can dwell on it, we’re approached by another couple.

“Ah, Kiril,” says the woman, her voice rich and commanding, “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

I’m surprised to see that she’s clearly one of the leaders here. Her presence is intimidating, yet there’s a grace to her movements that speaks of years of experience in this world.

“Oksana.” Kiril greets her with a nod. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Felicity.”

Oksana’s sharp gaze assesses me. “A new player in our little game, I see. Tell me, Felicity, do you know how to play poker?”

I smile, not looking away. “I’ve been known to hold my own in a game or two.” On my PC and phone, but I omit that part.

She laughs, a sound like smooth whiskey. “I like her, Kiril. She’s got spirit.”

The hours slip by like silk across skin, and I drift from one group to another, with the background soundtrack a low hum of conversation punctuated by the clink of crystal glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. The opulent ballroom seems to shrink as I navigate its gilded expanse, each step a calculated dance through a minefield of alliances and the occasional rivalry.

“So, Mrs. Pimaslov,” asks a portly man with a walrus mustache as he gets closer, his breath heavy with the scent of cigars and vodka, “How are you finding our little gathering?”

I smile. “Absolutely fascinating,” I say, careful to keep my tone light and unassuming. “The stories I’ve heard tonight could fill a book.”

His wife, a statuesque blonde draped in emeralds, arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Oh? And what stories might those be, my dear?”

I laugh, the sound melodious and practiced. “Oh, you know, the usual. Tales of daring escapades and narrow escapes. Though I’m sure they pale in comparison to the real adventures you’ve all had.”

As I speak, I catch sight of my husband watching me from across the room. I resist the urge to meet his gaze, lest I get totally distracted. Instead, I focus on the couple before me while reading the minute shifts in their expressions.

“You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?” The man says with a chuckle, his eyes sharp despite his jovial tone. “Kiril’s a lucky man.”

“I like to think we’re both fortunate,” I say smoothly, lifting my champagne flute in a small salute. It’s the same one I’ve been carrying all night, but no one seems to notice I don’t actually drink from it. “If you’ll excuse me, I see an old friend I simply must greet.”

I glide away, my heels silent on the plush carpet, heart thudding beneath my calm exterior. Each conversation is a delicate balancing act, revealing enough to seem open while guarding the truth of my past, and my inexperience in this world of shadows and power. As I approach another group, I take a steadying breath, ready to don yet another mask in this masquerade.

During a lull in the conversation, I notice the same waiter from earlier, still looking uneasy. He fumbles with a tray of drinks, nearly spilling them. Something about his behavior nags at me, but I push the thought aside as Oksana approaches me again. He can’t be here to cause trouble. Someone would’ve done something by now.

“So, Felicity,” Oksana says, sipping her martini. “How are you finding our little gathering?”

I smile. “It’s certainly eye-opening. I never expected to be rubbing elbows with such influential people.”

Oksana chuckles. “We’re not so different from anyone else, my dear. We just play for higher stakes.”

“Speaking of stakes,” I say, leaning in conspiratorially, “I hear the buy-in for tonight’s game is quite substantial.”

“Indeed it is.” Oksana cocks a brow. “Are you planning to join us at the table?”

I glance at Kiril, who’s deep in conversation with another man. “I’m not sure. It might be best if I observe this time.”

“Nonsense. You must play. I insist.”

As we continue chatting, I’m nervous but a little excited too. I’m about to sit down at a poker table with some of the most dangerous people in the world, and I’m determined to hold my own.

The nervous waiter passes by again, this time with a tray of hors d’oeuvres. His hand shakes slightly as he offers the tray to us. I take a canapé, studying him closely. There’s sweat beading on his forehead, and his gaze keeps darting toward the exit.

“Is everything all right?” I ask him softly.

He startles, nearly dropping the tray. “Yes, ma’am. Everything’s fine.”

As he hurries away, I turn back to Oksana, who’s watching me with interest.

“You’re observant,” she says. “A valuable trait in our world.”

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “I’m still learning. There’s so much to take in.”

“You’re doing admirably.” She links her arm through mine. “Shall we join the others at the table? I’m eager to see how you fare in a real game.”

As we make our way to the poker table, I catch Kiril’s eye. He gives me a subtle nod of encouragement, and I inhale quickly, steeling myself for what’s to come. This is my chance to prove myself in this new world, and I won’t let Kiril down.

The cards are dealt, and the game begins. I study my hand with excitement. This isn’t just about money, it’s also about respect and acceptance into this dangerous yet intoxicating world. I have to prove myself.

I glance around the table, taking in the faces of the other players. Oksana sits to my left, her expression unreadable. Dmitri is across from me, a cigar clenched between his teeth. Kiril is at the far end, gaze meeting mine briefly before returning to his cards.

The first hand goes smoothly. I play conservatively, folding early when I realize my cards aren’t strong enough. I watch the others, noting their tells and betting patterns.

The second hand is where things get interesting. I’m dealt a pair of queens. As the betting progresses, I stay in, raising when appropriate. By the end, it’s down to me and Dmitri. I call his bet, and we reveal our cards. My queens beat his pair of tens.

“Well played, Mrs. Pimaslov,” says Dmitri, nodding approvingly as I rake in the chips.

Kiril smiles at me as he dips his head slightly in acknowledgment of my win. I allow myself a moment of pride before focusing on the next hand. As the dealer shuffles for the third game, I notice the nervous waiter from earlier approaching our table. He’s carrying a tray of drinks, but his movements are stiff and unnatural. My dancer’s instincts kick in, and I watch him closely as he sets a glass in front of Oksana, who is on the opposite side of Kirl. It’s unnecessarily awkward, and either he’s a new waiter, or he’s up to something.

Time seems to slow as I see the waiter’s hand move, quick and subtle, as he crosses over Kiril’s drink. Something drops into the drink, a tiny white tablet that dissolves almost instantly.

Without thinking, I stand up and stretch as far as I can, knocking over Kiril’s glass. The liquid spills across the table, seeping into the green felt. Several of the players gasp as I stare at the waiter, who pales.

Kiril looks at me, confusion etched on his face, but before he can speak, chaos erupts.

Men burst into the room, guns drawn. I recognize some of them as casino staff, the bartender, the croupier from another table, and even the coat check attendant. They’re all pointing weapons at Kiril and his lieutenants, mostly ignoring the rest of the bratva representatives aside from keeping them from drawing guns.

“Nobody move,” shouts a voice, and my blood runs cold as I recognize it from recordings I’ve heard. Damiano.

My half-brother strides into the room, a smug smile on his face. “Isn’t this a lovely gathering? What, no vodka and borscht? How disappointing,” he says in a mocking tone.

Suddenly, I realize I should’ve said something about the waiter. Surely, he was here waiting for this to happen, making sure everyone was too drunk and involved in their gambling to be on guard. I’m the only one who can’t relax, and now I almost feel responsible for this horrible turn of events.

Kiril stands slowly, never looking away from Damiano. “What is the meaning of this?”

Damiano laughs. “Oh, come now, Kiril. You didn’t think I’d let you waltz in and take over my father’s territory without a fight, did you?”

Kiril’s hand inches toward his jacket, where I know he keeps his gun. I catch his gaze, shaking my head slightly. We’re outnumbered.

“You won’t get away with this,” says Kiril, practically snarling.

“I already have. Your security team has been overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep, and once you’re out of the picture, the Russian Bratva will be in disarray. Ripe for the taking.”

I scan the room, looking for a way out. That’s when I notice Viktor slipping in through a side door, indicating whatever method Damiano used on our other guards, Viktor escaped it. We lock gazes, and I give him an almost imperceptible nod.

“You’re making a mistake, Damiano,” I say, drawing his attention. “This isn’t how alliances are formed.”

Damiano turns to me, looking dismissive. “Ah, my unwanted sister. I’d almost forgotten about you. Don’t worry. I’ll deal with you soon enough.”

As he speaks, Viktor signals to someone outside. Suddenly, the lights go out, plunging the room into darkness. Gunshots ring out, and I drop to the floor, crawling under the table. I feel a hand on my arm and tense, but it’s Kiril.

“Stay down,” he whispers, shielding me with his body.

The room descends into chaos. Shouts, more gunshots, and the sound of breaking glass. I hear Damiano cursing, ordering his men to find us, barking the words out like poison.

More of Kiril’s men have arrived, engaging Damiano’s in a fierce firefight. I stay low, my heart practically in my throat. This is nothing like the movies. It’s loud, confusing, and absolutely terrifying.

A body falls near us, and I stifle a scream. Kiril pulls me closer, keeping his arm around my waist. “We need to move,” he says in my ear. “When I say go, run for the door. Don’t stop, and don’t look back. Understood?”

I nod, then realize he can’t see me in the dark. “Yes,” I whisper.

We wait for what feels like an eternity but is probably only a minute or two. Then, Kiril squeezes my hand. “Go.”

We sprint for the door, ducking and weaving. A bullet whizzes past my ear, and I stumble. Kiril grabs my arm, yanking me forward.

We burst out of the room into the hallway. Viktor is there, covering our escape. “This way,” he says, leading us down a service corridor.

As we run, I hear Damiano’s voice behind us, filled with rage. “Find them. Don’t let them escape.”

But we’re already gone, rushing through the bowels of the casino. Viktor leads us to a loading dock, where a black SUV is waiting. There are two other vehicles behind it, and all the engines are running. Some of the guards look dazed as they pile out to form a circle around us.

“What happened to them?” asks Kiril before I can.

“Complimentary champagne. The fools drank it without questioning its source, assuming it was provided for all the guards by the Bratva families.” Viktor shakes his head in disgust. “I’ll be retraining them myself when we’re back home.”

“Excellent.” Kiril glares at the lot of them, earning sheepish looks, before turning toward me and touching my back to urge me toward the waiting SUV.

We pile in, and Viktor takes off before the doors are even fully closed. I look back to see Damiano and his men emerging from the building, firing at us, but we’re too far away, already disappearing into the night.

I slump against the seat, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Kiril pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me.

“Are you hurt?” His voice is gruff with concern.

I shake my head. “No, I’m okay. You?”

“Fine,” he says, but he winces as he shifts.

“You’re hit,” I say, running my hands over his body, searching for the wound.

He catches my wrists. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.” Staring up at him, I see fear and relief blending in his expression. “How did you know?” he asks. “About the drink?”

“I noticed the waiter acting strangely. When he approached the table, I saw him drop something in your glass.”

Kiril’s expression softens. “You saved my life.”

I shrug, suddenly feeling shy. “We’re partners, right? That’s what we do.”

He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. “You’re more than just a partner, Felicity. You’re my wife, my queen.”

He kisses me, hard and deeply, pouring all his emotions into it. I respond with equal fervor, the fear and adrenaline of the night transforming into passion.

When we break apart, we’re both breathless. He rests his forehead against mine. “We’ll deal with Damiano. He won’t get away with this.”

I nod, accepting there must be a proportionate response. This is my life now, full of danger, excitement, and a love more powerful than I ever imagined.

Viktor takes us straight back to the private airstrip, not stopping the SUV until then. When it’s clear, I step out, my legs shaky from the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Kiril’s puts his arm around my waist, steadying me as we make our way onto the jet. The events of the night replay in my mind, a chaotic blur of gunfire and betrayal.

Viktor follows closely behind, vigilantly scanning our surroundings. As soon as we’re inside, he starts barking orders into his phone, no doubt mobilizing our security forces. We’re wheels up in under ten minutes, and once it’s safe to unfasten my seatbelt, I do so I can get closer to my husband.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” I ask Kiril.

He catches my hands, bringing them to his lips. “I’m fine, darling. Thanks to you. The graze is nothing.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe Damiano would do this. I mean, I know he’s not exactly family of the year, but to try to kill you? To betray everyone like that and risk having every faction of the Bratva after him? It seems crazy.”

Kiril’s jaw tightens. “He’s shown how ruthless and reckless he is. There’s no going back from this.” He pulls me closer. “Rest now.”

I would protest, but he looks tired and in pain, so I subside into silent support. We can discuss our counterresponse later, once he’s been patched up and feeling one hundred percent again.

Hours later, we land, and Viktor drives us home in our own limousine. We enter the foyer and take the elevator upstairs to the penthouse, both of us weary. We make our way to the living room, where Kiril pours us both a generous measure of vodka.

I set aside my glass, not wanting to hurt the baby. “What happens now?” I ask, sinking onto the plush sofa.

Kiril sits beside me, his arm draped over my shoulders. “Now, we plan our next move.”

Viktor enters the room, his face grim. “The perimeter is secure, boss. I’ve doubled the guards and put everyone on high alert.”

“Good,” Kiril nods. “Any word on Damiano’s whereabouts?”

“He’s gone to ground, but we have feelers out. He won’t be able to hide for long.”

I fidget, a thought nagging at me. “What about the other families? The ones at the poker game? Won’t they be wondering what happened?”

Kiril exchanges a look with Viktor. “That’s our next problem. We need to control the narrative before Damiano can spin this in his favor.”

“I’ll start making calls,” says Viktor. “We’ll need to reassure our allies and put pressure on anyone who might be thinking of siding with Damiano.”

“Not too likely,” says Viktor. “They’re more likely to be pissed at Damiano.”

“Yes, but they might question my strength and take a perceived opening,” says Kiril through gritted teeth. “I refuse to allow that.”

“Same.” Viktor leaves to start damage control.

I turn to Kiril. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He studies me for a moment with intensity. “You’ve already done more than enough. You saved my life tonight.”

I shake my head. “I just knocked over a glass. You’re the one who got us out of there.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Kiril says firmly. “Your instincts are sharp. You noticed something was off with that waiter when no one else did. That kind of awareness is invaluable in our world.”

His words make me sit up straighter as pride envelops me in a warm embrace. “So, what’s our next move?”

Kiril’s lips curve into a small smile. “Our next move is to show Damiano and anyone else who might be thinking of crossing us that we’re not to be trifled with.”

“How do we do that?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.

“We strike back,” Kiril says through tight lips. “Hard and fast. We hit Damiano where it hurts most. His business operations have always been a single point of failure for him. He doesn’t keep as much cash on the sidelines as I do, so any disruptions in his cashflow will leave him vulnerable.”

I lean forward, intrigued. “What kind of business operations are we talking about?”

Kiril reaches for a tablet on the coffee table, pulling up a series of documents and maps. “Damiano’s main source of income comes from weapons. He’s got a major shipment of guns and ammunition coming in next week, so we’re going to intercept it.”

I study the information on the screen, my thoughts whirling. “Won’t that be dangerous? He’ll be expecting some kind of retaliation after what happened at the casino.”

“He will be, but we have the element of surprise. He won’t expect us to move this quickly, especially not against such a high-value target.” He smirks. “He probably thinks we don’t even know about this shipment, but he’s not the only one with sources.”

My eyes widen. “You mean, you have your own Alexei on his team?”

Kiril gives me a satisfied smile. “Yes,” he says simply before diving into the intricacies of the plan.

I’m drawn into the strategy of it all. It’s complex, dangerous, and exhilarating. I truly feel like I’m part of this world and not just an outsider thrust into it by circumstances. “I want to help. Not just from the sidelines this time. I want to be involved in the action,” I say.

Kiril’s expression turns serious. “Felicity, I think we’ve been over this. I know you’re able to handle a lot, but it’s better for you to sit this out, or at least, as you said, take a spot on the sidelines.”

I sigh, knowing he’s right but that I’m still going to fight him on it. I always do. “I know that, but I’m your wife, your partner. I need to learn how to navigate this world if I’m going to be any use to you.”

He studies me for a long moment. Finally, he nods, which is unexpected. He’s not putting up any sort of fight this time around. Perhaps he’s finally realized it’s useless. “All right, but you follow my lead, understand? No unnecessary risks,” he says.

I nod eagerly. “Of course. I’ll do exactly as you say.”

Kiril pulls me close, brushing his lips across my forehead. “You continue to surprise me. I never expected you to adapt so quickly to this life.”

I snuggle into his embrace, feeling safe despite the danger that surrounds us. “I never expected it either, but I’m starting to realize there’s more to me than I ever knew.” Maybe I’m more Santino’s daughter than I’d like to admit. It’s an uncomfortable thought but also somehow reassuring in its own way.