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

”Worried about what?” He looked genuinely thoughtful. ”People will start wondering.” She frowned.

”Wondering what?”

”That you’re barren.” Sienna blinked. Viktor continued as though discussing tomorrow’s weather. ”If months pass after our marriage and there isn’t a baby...”

”The families will start talking.”

”The council will start asking questions.”

”They’ll assume something is wrong.” Sienna stared at him in disbelief. ”I have far more important things to worry about than other people’s gossip.” She resumed climbing.

Viktor followed at an unhurried pace. ”You know I’m a man of principle.” She didn’t answer.

”I’m married now.”

”I won’t go looking for pleasure somewhere else.” Sienna reached the bedroom door.

”So if this marriage is going to remain...”

Bang. The bedroom door shut squarely in Viktor’s face. Silence. Viktor looked at the closed door. Then chuckled quietly to himself.

”...I suppose that’s my answer.”

Inside the bedroom... Sienna leaned against the door and pressed a hand over her racing heart.

”What is wrong with me?” She closed her eyes. That had been far too close. If he had stepped in front of her... If he had reached for her... If he had kissed her again...

She wasn’t entirely sure she would have had the strength to push him away. That realization unsettled her more than anything else. She shook her head.

”No.”

”Get yourself together.” She walked toward the mirror. The wedding gown suddenly felt twice as heavy. She reached behind her back, searching for the zipper. Her fingers brushed layers of tiny buttons instead.

”Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” She twisted awkwardly. Nothing. She tried again. Still nothing. Whoever had designed this dress clearly hadn’t expected the bride to remove it herself.

After several frustrating minutes, she let out a defeated groan. ”This is ridiculous.” The corset was so tightly fitted that she couldn’t reach half the fastenings.

She tried pulling the sleeves free. The lace refused to budge. She carefully sat on the edge of the bed. Then stood again. The dress made even that difficult. Finally, exhausted from the long day, she simply collapsed backward onto the mattress.

The enormous skirt spread across the bed like a white cloud. It was beautiful. It was elegant. It was unbelievably uncomfortable. She stared at the ceiling.

”I hate this dress.” A knock sounded at the door. ”Sienna.” She ignored it. Another knock. ”You know you can’t sleep in that.” Still nothing. ”I can hear you pretending not to listen.”

She sighed dramatically. ”Go away.” The door opened a few inches. Viktor remained standing outside instead of walking in. ”I’m serious.”

”You won’t be able to sleep wearing that.”

”I’ll manage.”

”No.”

”You won’t.” She crossed her arms. ”I’ll figure it out.”

”You’ve been trying for fifteen minutes.” Sienna’s eyes widened. ”...Were you standing outside the whole time?”

”I heard you arguing with your dress.” Her cheeks warmed. ”I was not arguing.”

”There was definitely arguing.”

”There was negotiating.” Viktor smiled. ”May I come in?”

”No.”

”I can help.”

”I don’t need your help.”

”You do.” She glared at him. He waited patiently. Neither of them spoke. Finally... Sienna let out a long, defeated sigh. ”Fine.”

She pointed toward the ceiling. ”But don’t get any strange ideas.” Viktor raised both hands innocently. ”I’m only helping with the dress.”

”And then you’re leaving.”

”As you wish.” He stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him. For the first time that evening, neither of them joked. Sienna slowly turned around, presenting her back to him. The countless pearl buttons ran from the back of her neck all the way to her waist. Viktor looked at them.

”...Whoever designed this clearly hated husbands.” Sienna couldn’t help smiling. ”I’ve been thinking the same thing.” He moved behind her, careful to leave a respectful distance between them. His fingers began working on the tiny buttons one by one.

Neither of them spoke. The room became so quiet that Sienna could hear the faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall. Button after button came undone. She felt the tight bodice loosen slightly.

”Better?” Viktor asked. ”A little.” He continued patiently. There was no teasing. No unnecessary touch. Just careful movements as he worked through the impossible row of buttons.

Sienna found herself relaxing despite herself. ”You know...” she said quietly, ”I thought you’d make this awkward.”

”I considered it.” She rolled her eyes. ”I decided against it.”

”How generous.”

”I’ve been trying very hard to earn your trust.” His answer made her pause. A few more buttons came free. The tightness around her ribs eased. Finally, Viktor stepped back. ”There.”

”The rest should be easy.” Sienna turned just enough to see him.

”You... aren’t staying?” He smiled. ”You told me to leave.”

”I did.”

”And despite what you think...” he said with a small grin, ”I can follow instructions.” He walked toward the door, stopping with one hand on the handle.

”Good night, Mrs. Kessler.” Sienna looked down at the now-loosened gown before glancing back at him.

”...Good night.” Viktor gave a small nod and left, quietly closing the door behind him. Only after he was gone did Sienna realize something. He had been standing behind her the entire time.

He could have taken advantage of the moment. He could have flirted. Could have teased. Could have made things unbearably uncomfortable. Instead...

He had done exactly what he promised. Nothing more. Sienna sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. For some reason, that simple act of restraint unsettled her far more than if he had tried to charm her.

It made it harder to keep convincing herself that Viktor Kessler was only pretending to be a good husband. Somewhere along the way... He had stopped pretending.

Don Capri sat in the back of a speeding car, blood seeping through the bandage on his shoulder. His empire had been humiliated. His daughter had been publicly disgraced.

His enemies had struck where it hurt most. The war was no longer about power. It had become deeply personal.