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

Viktor’s expression softened, something quieter and more serious settling behind his eyes. ”In this lifetime,” he said simply, ”you can only be my wife. Only you. We’re stuck together for life, Sienna. There was never going to be a version of this where I chose her instead.”

Sienna held his gaze for a long moment, searching for the lie in it, and found, to her own frustration, that she couldn’t locate one.

”You know what,” she said finally, shaking her head, ”I’m not even going to argue anymore. The great mafia king must know what he’s doing.”

She turned as if to walk away, then paused, glancing back at him.

”About last night,” she said, her tone shifting, sharper now, more focused. ”Any news on the tattooed man?”

Viktor’s easy expression faded instantly, replaced by something grim. ”No,” he said. ”And yes. Two more of my men died following him last night.” He crossed his arms, watching her closely now, the playful warmth from moments before gone completely.

”What we do know is that he’s dangerous. Very dangerous. So I’ll ask you again, Sienna, and I want the truth this time. No more lies. No more half-truths. How do you know him?”

Sienna kept a careful distance now, some old, practiced wariness settling back over her features. ”I thought I married the great mafia king,” she said quietly. ”There’s nothing you can’t find out.”

”I know what I can find out,” Viktor said, stepping closer again, though gentler this time, more careful. ”What I need to know is why this matters so much to you.”

Sienna was quiet for a long moment, weighing how much to say, how much to keep locked away the way she always did.

”As I said,” she said finally, softer now. ”Curiosity. I’m guessing whatever investigation you ran on me didn’t mention that I have no memory of my life before the age of five. None at all. My entire childhood before that is just... gone. So I’ve been trying, quietly, to find out about my own past. That’s all this is.”

Viktor’s expression shifted, surprise and something gentler moving behind his eyes. ”And how would he be part of that past?” he asked.

”I don’t know,” Sienna admitted, her voice barely above a whisper now, some old, buried fear surfacing briefly in her eyes before she forced it back down.

”He... he might just know.” She stopped herself there, careful not to say anything more, some deep instinct warning her that whatever else she knew, whatever else she suspected about that man and his men that had come looking for her twice now, it was still too dangerous, even for Viktor, to hear all at once.

Sienna made her way back up to her room not long after, sinking down onto the edge of her bed and pulling up Aria’s contact on her phone before she’d even fully processed everything that had happened.

The call connected almost instantly, Aria’s face filling the screen, already grinning before Sienna had said a single word.

”Okay,” Aria said. ”Tell me everything. And I mean everything.”

Sienna recounted it all slowly, the square, the ring, the kiss, the strange five-day deadline, watching Aria’s expression shift through a dizzying range of emotions with every new detail, delight and shock and outright glee tangled together on her face.

”Sienna,” Aria breathed once she’d finished, pressing a hand dramatically to her chest. ”This is like something out of a movie. A public proposal. A real wedding in five days. I’m not going to lie, I am so excited right now I could scream.”

”I’m not excited,” Sienna said, flopping back against her pillows. ”I’m confused. And a little terrified, honestly.”

”Well, sure,” Aria said, entirely unbothered, ”but also excited, deep down, somewhere you’re not ready to admit yet.”

Sienna didn’t bother arguing. There was no point trying to talk Aria out of finding the drama of it all thrilling. Her best friend had never once, in all the years Sienna had known her, met a piece of chaos she didn’t secretly love.

The next morning, Sienna woke to the faint, unmistakable smell of something burning.

She padded downstairs still half asleep, following the smell all the way to the kitchen, and stopped in the doorway, blinking in disbelief at the scene in front of her.

Viktor stood at the stove, sleeves rolled up, an apron tied haphazardly around his waist, looking entirely out of place amid a kitchen that had clearly seen better mornings.

Flour dusted the counter in uneven clouds, a pan sat smoking faintly on the stove, and eggshells littered the countertop in a scattered, chaotic trail leading from the refrigerator to the bowl he was currently stirring with far more aggression than the recipe likely called for.

He had his phone pinned between his shoulder and his ear, clearly mid-conversation with Marcus, rattling off instructions about seating charts and guest lists in the same low, commanding tone he usually reserved for far more dangerous business.

”No, tell the florist white and blue, not just white,” Viktor said, flipping something in the pan that immediately released a small puff of dark smoke.

”And make sure...” He stopped abruptly, hissing sharply as the knife in his other hand slipped, nicking the edge of his finger.

”Damn it,” he muttered, dropping the knife and pressing his thumb against the small cut, still holding the phone awkwardly against his shoulder. ”Marcus, I’ll call you back.”

He ended the call and set the phone down on the counter, sucking in a short breath as he examined the shallow cut on his finger, entirely unaware that Sienna was still standing quietly in the doorway, watching the whole scene unfold with growing, helpless amusement.

She couldn’t hold it back any longer. A laugh escaped her before she could stop it, bright and genuine, cutting cleanly through the chaos of the kitchen.

Viktor’s head snapped up immediately, and for one brief, unguarded second, something like embarrassment flickered across his usually composed face.

”How long have you been standing there?” he asked, quickly setting the pan aside, waving away a thin trail of smoke still curling up from it.

”Long enough,” Sienna said, still laughing, stepping further into the kitchen. ”What exactly are you attempting here?”