Arranged Mafia Marriage

Chapter 26Felicity

26

Felicity

I sit on the terrace, sipping tea and trying to calm my racing thoughts. The past few days have been a whirlwind of emotions, and I’m still struggling to process everything that’s happened. The fight I just had with Kiril lingers on my mind, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth that has nothing to do with the unsweetened ginger tea or lingering nausea.

Isabella arrives at the table, carrying her own cup of tea. “Mind if I join you?”

I gesture to the empty chair beside me. “Please, have a seat.”

She settles in, studying me with concern. “You seem troubled, Felicity. Is everything all right?”

I force a smile, not wanting to burden her with my worries, or reveal Kiril’s plan. I still hope to find a different solution, sparing her from ever needing to know she’s in danger. “I’m fine. Just a bit overwhelmed with everything.”

She nods sympathetically. “I understand. It’s a lot to take in, especially for someone who wasn’t raised in this world.”

I take another sip of tea, savoring the warmth as it spreads through my body. “How do you do it, Isabella? How do you cope with loving someone in this life when you weren’t born into it either?” I still don’t know how they met. Just that Tony wasn’t planned, and he panicked, hiding her away in Naples. It’s clear there’s friction between them for that choice, but I’ve tried not to pry.

She looks out over the city skyline as though gathering her thoughts. “It’s not easy, that’s for certain. There are days when the fear and uncertainty threaten to consume you, but the love... it’s powerful enough to overshadow even the darkest moments. Loving him so completely is the only way I could accept the man he is.”

I’m curious to hear more. “Can you tell me about when you first fell in love with Damiano? How did you know it was worth the risk?”

Isabella’s lips curve into a wistful smile. “It wasn’t love at first sight, if that’s what you’re wondering. Damiano was charming, of course, but I knew better than to fall for a man like him. Or so I thought.”

She pauses, lost in the memory. “We met at a charity gala in Naples. I was there with my father, a respected legitimate businessman. Damiano approached us, all smiles and polite conversation, but there was something in his eyes, an intensity that both thrilled and terrified me.”

“What happened next?” I ask, drawn into her story.

“He pursued me relentlessly, sending flowers, arranging ‘chance’ encounters, and trying to rearrange my life to make it easier for me, and him, I suppose. I resisted at first, knowing the danger he represented, but one night, everything changed.”

Isabella’s voice drops to a near whisper. “There was an attempt on my father’s life from a disgruntled client. Nothing mafioso,” she hastily adds, clearly self-conscious about that. “Damiano saved him, putting himself in harm’s way. When I saw him lying there, bleeding but still trying to take care of us. I knew I was in love.”

My chest constricts as I think of the times Kiril has protected me. “How do you reconcile the man you love with the things he has to do?”

She frowns heavily. “It’s a constant struggle. You have to separate the man from his actions, to see the heart beneath the armor. It’s not always possible, and there are times when the darkness threatens to consume everything, but in those moments, you hold onto the love, the tender moments, and the glimpses of the man you know he can be.”

I nod, understanding all too well. “And what about Tony? How do you shield him from all of this?”

Her eyes shimmer. “That’s the hardest part. I want to shield him from everything, to give him a normal life, but that’s impossible. All I can do is love him fiercely and hope that’s enough to guide him through the storm when he finally learns the truth.”

As I listen to Isabella, I’m struck by the depth of her love and the sacrifices she’s made. My anger at Kiril begins to fade, replaced by a growing determination. I can’t let fear and mistrust drive a wedge between us, and I can’t let him use my new friend and nephew to send a message to Damiano. There’s another way if I can figure it out.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Isabella. It’s given me a lot to think about.”

She smiles warmly. “We’re in this together now that we’re family.”

I nod, already formulating a plan. I need to talk to Damiano, to find a way to shelter Isabella and Tony without resorting to using them as pawns. It’s risky, going against Kiril’s wishes, but I have to try.

“Isabella, I need to step out for a bit. Will you be all right here with Tony?”

She looks surprised but nods. “Of course. Is everything okay?”

I force a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine. I just need to take care of something. I won’t be long.”

As I leave the terrace, I pull out my phone and send a message to a secure number I’ve memorized, passed along to me by Santino at my last visit. I told him we had guests, and he gave me this number when I was ready to do what had to be done. Has Santino always had this goal, realizing I’d never agree to make Damiano’s family leverage once I got to know them? If so, he’s been a couple of steps ahead of me, and maybe even Kiril.

I have nothing to lose now, so I compose the message. It’s a gamble, but I have to try.

“Damiano, we need to talk. Neutral ground. It’s about your family.”

I hit Send, my palms sweating as I await a response. This could change everything, for better or worse, but for Isabella, Tony, and the future of both our families, it’s a risk I have to take.

Moments later, my phone buzzes with a call, not a text, and I glance at the screen, unsurprised to see Damiano’s name. I inhale deeply and release it slowly, preparing for the conversation ahead. I answer the call, keeping my voice steady. “Damiano.”

“You’ve got some nerve. What game are you playing?” He sounds enraged.

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “No games, Damiano. We need to talk.”

“Talk? You think I’m stupid enough to fall for that? You’re trying to lure me into a trap.”

“If I wanted to trap you, I wouldn’t be so obvious about it,” I say, my patience wearing thin. “Look, this is about Isabella and Tony. Don’t you want to know they’re safe?” As we’re talking, I send him a picture of the two of them that I took at Central Park a couple of days ago.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and he’s clearly assessing the photo I saw. When Damiano speaks again, his voice is low and dangerous. “What are they doing in the city, and what do you know about them?”

“Enough to know you should hear me out. Meet me at Central Park, near the hot dog stand by the carousel. One hour.”

“You expect me to walk into an ambush? I don’t think so.”

I curse softly, exasperated. “For fuck’s sake. It’s a public place in broad daylight. Bring your guys if you want but keep them at a distance. This is between you and me.”

Another pause. I can practically hear him thinking.

“Fine,” he says finally. “One hour, but if this is a trick…”

“It’s not. See you there.” I hang up before he can respond. I’ve set the wheels in motion, and there’s no turning back now. My stomach clenches, and I’m abruptly nauseated. It could be pregnancy sickness or nerves. Probably both. Fortunately, the contents of my stomach choose to remain there, and the surge of nausea soon passes.

An hour later, I’m standing by the hot dog stand, scanning the crowd for any sign of Damiano. I’ve chosen a spot with clear sight-lines in all directions, making it difficult for anyone to sneak up on me.

I spot him before he sees me. He’s wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, but I recognize the set of his shoulders and the way he moves. He walks the same way Kiril and Viktor do, as though awaiting an imminent attack. He’s flanked by two men, who are trying too hard to look casual.

I give a cheery smile and wave at him to get his attention. Damiano approaches, his face a mask of suspicion. “All right, I’m here. Start talking.”

I gesture to the hot dog stand. “Let’s get some food first. I’m starving, and this will look less suspicious if we’re eating.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, but he nods tersely. We order our hot dogs in silence, then move to a nearby bench.

“So,” says Damiano, taking a bite of his hot dog. “What’s this about Isabella and Tony? Are they really in the city? Have you been following them?”

I prepare myself for his reaction before saying, “They’re safe, Damiano. They’re under our protection.”

His knuckles whiten around the hot dog. “What do you mean, ‘your protection?’ Where are they?”

“They’re in a secure location,” I say, carefully choosing my words. “We extracted them from Naples for their own safety.”

Damiano’s face contorts with rage. “You kidnapped them? I’ll kill you, I swear to God I will.”

I scoff. “We didn’t kidnap them. We saved them. They’re safe, and they’ll stay that way.”

He leans in close, his voice a low growl. “If you’ve hurt them, I will hurt you.”

“We haven’t,” I say firmly. “And we won’t. That’s not what this is about.”

Still tense, he moves back slightly to study me. “Then what is it about?”

I take another bite of my hot dog, buying myself a moment to gather my thoughts. “It’s about ending this war before it destroys us all. Isabella and Tony are collateral damage in a fight that doesn’t need to happen.”

“You think it’s that simple?” Damiano scoffs. “You have no idea what’s at stake here.”

“Then tell me? Make me understand why this bloodshed is necessary when I have zero interest in taking your territory.”

Damiano is quiet for a long moment, his jaw working as he struggles with some internal debate. Finally, he speaks. “It’s not just about power or territory. It’s about survival. The old ways are dying, and if we don’t adapt, we’ll be wiped out.”

“And you think aligning with the Colombians is the answer?” I ask.

He nods. “It’s a start. We need new blood and new connections. The Russians are too set in their ways. They’ll drag us down with them.”

I consider his words. “And what about Isabella and Tony? Where do they fit into this grand plan of yours?”

His expression softens for a moment, and I catch a glimpse of the man Isabella fell in love with. “They were supposed to be safe, hidden away from all of this. I never wanted them involved.”

“But they are involved,” I say gently. “And now we have to figure out how to end this conflict before more innocent people get hurt.”

Damiano studies me, his expression unreadable. “What are you proposing?”

I exhale raggedly. This is the moment of truth. “A truce. A way for both sides to save face and come to an agreement that benefits everyone. We can work together to modernize our operations without resorting to all-out war, and we don’t have to drag drugs into our city to do it. You know Santino doesn’t approve of that.”

He stiffens. “Papa discussed that with you?”

I make a sound that can be interpreted as affirmative, since my information comes solely from Kiril. Judging from how shamefaced he looks now, I’d say my husband’s intel is solid.

“And Isabella and Tony?”

“They stay safe, away from all of this. You can see them, but on neutral ground and under controlled circumstances until we have a firm truce. We ensure their protection, and you get to be a part of their lives without putting them in danger. Once things are settled, I assume you’ll want them to live with you, and it will be much safer for them to do so if you embrace the truce our father wants with the Russians.”

Damiano is quiet for a long time, mulling over my words. I wait with a ball of hidden anxiety in my stomach, knowing that everything hinges on his response. Is he capable of being reasonable and considering new options, or will he cling to his insistence of war and bloodshed?