The Mafia King of Philadelphia: From witness to his doted wife

Sienna walked down the hallway slowly. Her steps were light. A small smile sat on her lips, and she did not even notice it was there.

She was still thinking about Viktor. About how close he had been to her. About the warmth that had come off his skin, and the way her body had leaned toward him without her asking it to.

Her heart was beating fast. Too fast. Faster than it had ever beaten before, even in the old days, even when Simon used to come close to her and whisper something soft in her ear.

Simon.

The name landed in her mind as a stone dropped into still water. Why was she thinking of him now? Why here, in this hallway, with the memory of Viktor still fresh on her skin?

Simon was a jerk. He had hurt her. He had left a wound that had never fully closed, a wound she had not yet paid him back for. She still owed him that. She still owed herself that.

The smile on her face began to fade. Slowly, like a candle losing its flame in a draft.

Love is for the weak, she told herself. And it is definitely not for a man like Viktor.

Viktor was not built for love. He did not know how to hold a heart gently. He only knew how to conquer. To take what he wanted and call it a victory. That was all this was to him. A game. A point to prove.

Wake up, Sienna, she thought. You are smarter than this.

She said it again in her mind, slower this time, like she needed to hear it twice to believe it.

She did not notice Manuel until he was standing right in front of her.

”Is the boss awake? Is he okay?” Manuel asked.

Sienna did not answer. She was still somewhere else, still lost in the noise inside her own head.

”Sienna,” Manuel said again, his voice a little louder now. ”Are you okay?”

She blinked. The hallway came back into focus. ”What did you say?”

”Where were you just now?” Manuel asked, tilting his head. ”You looked far away.”

Before she could answer, a voice came from behind her.

”Leave her be.”

It was Viktor. He stepped out of the bedroom, already fully dressed, his shirt buttoned, his hair combed back like nothing had happened. No one would have guessed, looking at him now, that he had been shot the night before.

”Good to see you up, boss,” Manuel said, turning to him. ”How are you feeling?”

Just then, Marcus came around the corner and joined them, his eyes moving quickly over Viktor, checking him the way a soldier checks another soldier for wounds.

”Are you sure you’re okay, boss?” Marcus asked.

Viktor did not answer right away. His eyes had already found Sienna’s, and for a moment, it was as if Manuel and Marcus were not even in the hallway with them.

”Yes, I’m fine,” he said at last, turning back to the two men. Then his voice changed, dropping into something more businesslike. ”Did you retrieve all my money?”

”Yes, boss,” Marcus said. ”The Chinese guy was right. We got the money intact, and it’s ready to move.”

”Great.” Viktor nodded once, the kind of nod that meant the matter was closed. ”Get everything ready. We’re leaving this place. Back to Philadelphia.”

Sienna stood at the corner of the hallway, half listening. She was not really following the words. She was only staring at him, the way his jaw moved when he spoke, the way his shoulders sat so easy under his shirt, as if a bullet had never touched him at all.

Her heart refused to be quiet. It never was, not when he was in the room.

”Sienna,” Viktor said, turning to her. ”Happy now? We’re going back home.”

”Yes, boss,” she said. Her voice came out flatter than she meant it to. ”What choice do I have? I’m a bag of potatoes that moves around at your command, right?”

She didn’t mean to sound so sharp. She didn’t mean to sound angry at all. But anger was easier to wear than the truth. Anger was a door she could close. And right now, closing a door felt safer than letting anyone see that some small, stubborn part of her heart had started to like him.

Even if it was only a little. Even if her mind was still strong, still telling her no, still fighting that same tired battle it had been fighting all morning. The small beetle of feeling inside her chest only grew louder the more she tried to crush it.

She turned and walked back toward the bedroom to pack her things. Her laptop was the only thing that mattered. Everything else could stay behind.

As she passed Viktor, her shoulder brushed lightly against his arm. It was barely anything. A second, maybe less. But he felt it, and so did she.

The three men watched her go, confusion written plainly on their faces.

”Boss,” Manuel said slowly, ”did you do something to upset her?”

”She’s a whole mood,” Viktor said, shaking his head, though there was something almost fond in the way he said it. ”One minute she’s smiling. The next, she’s angry.”

”My wife,” Viktor said, and a soft smile crossed his face, there and gone like a shadow. ”For you.”

Marcus said nothing. He only watched. Manuel was young, and being young, he thought he could speak to the boss the way a friend might speak to a friend. But Marcus knew better than that. He had learned a long time ago which words were safe to say out loud, and which ones were better kept behind his teeth.

”Well, I will get everything ready for our return tonight,” Marcus said. He did not wait for an answer. He simply turned and walked off, already pulling out his phone, already making calls in his head before he had even left the hallway.

”Yeah,” Viktor said, glancing at Manuel. ”Come with me. I have some work for you before I leave.”

Manuel nodded and followed him. The two of them walked off toward the study, their footsteps growing quieter with every step, until the hallway was empty and quiet, and Sienna was left alone with nothing but the sound of her own breathing.