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

Sienna stood off to the side through most of it, half amused and half overwhelmed, watching her best friend transform the quiet, orderly boutique into something resembling a small, glamorous storm.

Every so often, she glanced toward the entrance, where Viktor stood a short distance away, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his eyes never once leaving her, even as store attendants buzzed around him with garment bags and boxes.

She tried not to notice how steady his gaze felt. She tried, and mostly failed.

”Sienna,” Aria called, snapping her fingers lightly to pull her attention back. ”Try this one on. Now.”

They moved through boutique after boutique like that, Aria growing more energized with every purchase, ordering a glass of champagne at one point from some passing attendant, Sienna hadn’t even noticed was offering refreshments.

Aria drained the glass in a few quick sips, set it down on a nearby table with a satisfied little sigh, and clapped her hands together.

”Okay,” she declared. ”We’re done here. Next shop, please.”

The next shop turned out to be a lingerie boutique, all soft lighting and delicate lace draped over mannequins in the window.

Sienna stopped dead in the doorway. ”Really?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

”Really,” Aria said, already weaving through the racks with the same unstoppable energy as before.

”You’re a married woman now, Sienna. Sooner or later, you’re going to pop that flower, and when the time comes, you need to be ready.”

”Be quiet,” Sienna hissed, glancing quickly over her shoulder to see if Viktor, who had wisely chosen to remain outside this particular shop, could hear any of this. She shook her head, cheeks warming despite herself. ”Stop talking. Please.”

”Baby girl,” Aria said, completely unbothered, holding up a delicate set of dark green lace against her own body just to model it dramatically at Sienna.

”You are almost twenty-five, darling. Not sixteen. And you are married.” She winked, grinning widely, clearly enjoying every second of Sienna’s embarrassment.

Sienna groaned and pressed a hand to her face, though she couldn’t quite fight off the small laugh that escaped despite herself.

There was something about Aria’s shameless, unfiltered energy that made even the most mortifying moments feel lighter somehow, easier to survive.

By the time they finally emerged from the lingerie shop, bags in hand, Aria was visibly beginning to slow down, the earlier burst of energy softening into something closer to satisfied exhaustion. She stretched her arms above her head and let out a long, contented sigh.

”Oh my,” she said, glancing around at the small army of shopping bags now accumulated around them, most of them balanced carefully in the arms of Viktor’s guards, who had spent the better part of the last four hours trailing quietly behind the two women, collecting purchase after purchase without a single word of complaint.

Even Viktor himself now held several bags looped over one arm, his expression carefully neutral despite the obviously undignified position of a mafia boss standing in the middle of a mall holding shopping bags. ”That was a productive day.”

”I think we’re done here,” Aria said, glancing at Sienna. ”Well, for now.”

”Great,” Viktor said, stepping forward at last, his voice carrying the particular calm of a man relieved an ordeal had finally reached its end. ”Shall we head back, then?”

”Yes,” Aria said quickly, brightening again. ”But can I come, Uncle?”

Sienna felt something in her chest tighten at the hopeful note in Aria’s voice, the way she asked the question so easily despite already knowing, somewhere underneath all that bravado, what the answer was probably going to be.

Viktor’s expression softened only slightly. ”It’s late,” he said. ”You should head home now.”

”Viktor...” Sienna started, already stepping forward, ready to argue on her friend’s behalf the way she always seemed to be doing lately.

”It’s okay, Sienna,” Aria said quickly, cutting her off with a small, easy smile, though Sienna caught the faint flicker of disappointment behind it before Aria smoothed it carefully away. ”I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She pulled Sienna into a tight hug, holding on for just a beat longer than usual, whispering something quick and quiet against her ear, something about texting her the second anything interesting happened, something about not letting the scary uncle get away with being difficult for too long.

Then she pulled back, gathered a few of her own bags from the pile, and turned to head toward the parking garage, waving cheerfully over her shoulder even as her steps carried her further and further away.

Sienna watched her go, an odd, hollow feeling settling in her chest at the sight of her best friend walking off alone into the evening, leaving her behind once again in the strange, complicated orbit of Viktor Kessler’s world.

”You didn’t have to do that,” Sienna said quietly.

”Do what?” Viktor asked, adjusting the bags on his arm as they began walking slowly toward their own car, his guards falling into step a respectful distance behind them.

”Send her home like that,” Sienna said. ”I want her with me.”

Viktor was quiet for a moment, considering his answer carefully. ”She’ll be safer at home,” he said finally. ”Especially tonight.”

Something in his tone made Sienna glance up at him sharply. ”What does that mean?”

”It means,” Viktor said, his voice dropping lower, more serious now, ”that there are still people out there who would very much like to see you dead, Sienna, and until I’ve dealt with all of them properly, I’d rather keep the number of people around you as small, and as controllable, as possible.” He paused, glancing sideways at her.

”Aria is loud. She’s reckless. And she doesn’t fully understand what kind of danger still surrounds you right now.”

Sienna’s earlier annoyance faded slightly, replaced by a colder, heavier feeling settling low in her stomach.

She thought of Elena’s furious phone call, the way she had practically handed Sienna over to whoever was on the other end of that line.

She thought of Marcel’s warning about the war that had already started, one that was only going to get messier from here.

”So it’s not over,” she said quietly, not really a question.

”No,” Viktor said. ”It’s not over. Not yet.”

They walked the rest of the way to the car in silence after that, the weight of his words settling heavily between them, the earlier lightness of the shopping trip fading fast into something far more serious.