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

Sienna’s smile faltered slightly. ”Please don’t tell me,” she said, lowering her voice so only he could hear it, ”that you actually fell for me. That’s not possible. Just tell me what this crazy idea of yours actually is, so at least I can bring my A-game to the acting.”

”There’s no game,” Viktor said simply, his voice low and steady. ”You and I both deserve a proper Kessler wedding, Sienna.”

She stared at him, disbelief plain across her face. ”You’re kidding, right?” she said. ”You can’t possibly be serious right now. Not with Aliya out there. Not with your stepmother scheming behind our backs. This is what you meant by handling it?”

Something shifted briefly behind his eyes, though his expression remained calm. ”Are you regretting saying yes already?” he asked quietly.

”Mr. Mafia King,” Sienna said, her voice tight with frustration, glancing pointedly around at the gathered crowd, at the phones still raised, at the sheer public spectacle of it all, ”this is not the time for games.”

”You’re right,” Viktor said softly. ”It’s time for this instead.”

Before Sienna could ask what he meant, his hand came up gently to cup the side of her face, and he leaned down, closing the last small distance between them, and kissed her.

It wasn’t the careful, performative kind of kiss she had braced herself for, something staged and shallow just for the benefit of the crowd around them.

It was slow, and deep, and full of a heat that seemed to burn straight through every careful wall she had spent weeks building up around her heart.

His lips moved against hers with a certainty that left no room for doubt, one hand still cradling her jaw, the other pressing firm and warm against the small of her back, pulling her closer, as though he genuinely couldn’t stand even the smallest distance left between them.

For one long, dizzying moment, Sienna forgot entirely about the crowd, about Aliya’s threats or about every carefully constructed plan or scheme either of them might still be running behind the other’s back.

There was only the warmth of his mouth against hers, and the frantic, uneven pounding of her own heart, and some small, traitorous part of her that never wanted this particular moment to end.

The crowd around them erupted into cheers and applause, a few scattered whistles cutting through the noise, but it all felt distant, muffled, like something happening on the other side of thick glass.

When Viktor finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead gently against hers, Sienna found herself trembling slightly, breathless, and thoroughly unable to deny the raw sincerity that had clearly been behind that kiss.

Whatever else Viktor Kessler was capable of hiding behind his careful, controlled mask, that hadn’t felt like a performance at all.

But she also knew, with the same cold, hard clarity that had kept her alive and cautious for years now, that she would be a fool to let her guard down completely because of one perfectly executed kiss in a crowded square.

Viktor was up to something. He had to be. A man like him didn’t propose in public, didn’t kiss his wife senseless in front of half the city, without some larger strategy quietly unfolding beneath the surface of it all.

This had to be about his enemies somehow, about Aliya, about Don Capri, about consolidating power in whatever way benefited him most.

It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with love.

It couldn’t. Even if her whole body was still trembling from the way his mouth had felt against hers, even if some small, stubborn, foolish part of her heart desperately wanted to believe otherwise.

The ride back to the mansion passed with Viktor still playing his part flawlessly, his hand resting lightly on her knee, occasional soft glances thrown her way, every gesture calibrated to look like a man hopelessly, freshly in love.

Sienna watched him carefully the entire drive, saying little, cataloguing every small performance for later, unwilling to let herself relax into any of it.

The moment they stepped through the front doors of the mansion, she stopped abruptly, crossing her arms firmly over her chest.

”Okay,” she said. ”What is this? Are you still not going to tell me what the actual plan is here?”

”You have nothing to worry about,” Viktor said easily, shrugging out of his jacket. ”Just look pretty for our wedding. In five days.”

”You do realize,” Sienna said, following him further into the house, ”that the moment that door opens for me to leave freely, I’m walking straight out of it. Just so you know.”

”You just said yes to me,” Viktor said, turning to face her, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face, ”in front of roughly a million people, give or take. And besides.” He stepped closer, close enough that Sienna instinctively took a small step back, only to find herself against the wall behind her.

”Your lips sealed it too.” His eyes dropped briefly, deliberately, before returning to hers. ”And your hips don’t lie, Sienna. I can see exactly how badly you want me.”

He leaned in, his body pinning hers gently against the wall, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him, close enough that her traitorous pulse leapt immediately into that same frantic, uneven rhythm she had grown so tired of fighting.

”When you’re done,” Sienna said, forcing steadiness into her voice despite the way her breath had gone shallow, ”you’re going to tell me exactly what all of this is about. Because I’m not a fool, Viktor. And I’m not buying the love act.”

Something flickered across his face, and for a moment, Sienna thought he might actually deny it entirely. Instead, he sighed and stepped back, giving her room to breathe again.

”Fine,” he said. ”You win. The Capris gave me five days to hold my wedding. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Sienna blinked. ”Five days,” she repeated slowly. ”To hold your wedding to Aliya? Because I’m fairly certain that’s what you actually meant to say.” She crossed her arms again, studying him carefully. ”So why are you proposing to me instead of her?”