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

”You don’t have any view at all when I’m up here,” she shot back, wriggling slightly, though it did nothing but make his grip tighten a fraction, secure and unshaken.

”Are you sure?” he said, and she could hear the smile shaping the words even without seeing it, low and teasing. ”Because my hands can move in places.”

Her whole body went warm at that, an entirely different warmth than the embarrassment from earlier, something lower and more dangerous, curling through her stomach before she could stop it.

She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him exactly what she thought of that kind of talk this early in the morning, but nothing particularly convincing came out.

Because the truth she would never, ever say aloud was that she liked it. She liked this flirtatious, teasing side of him that slipped out in unguarded moments, so different from the cold, commanding man she’d first been forced to marry.

It shouldn’t have felt good, being carried out of a room like cargo, threatened with wandering hands and that low, promising tone.

And yet everything in her, the lingering warmth of the dream, the way her pulse still hadn’t settled from the moment he’d smiled at her sweatpants like they were the most charming thing he’d ever seen seemed to be conspiring against her better judgment.

She let her forehead rest lightly against his back, hiding the small, helpless smile that had crept onto her own face, and said nothing at all because for once, silence felt safer than admitting just how much she didn’t mind being exactly where she was.

He set her down beside the car with a gentleness that contradicted the ease with which he’d carried her out of the mansion, one hand lingering briefly at her waist to steady her before he opened the door himself.

Marcos was already waiting by the front passenger seat, a few guards falling into step around them with the quiet efficiency of men used to moving in Viktor’s shadow.

Within minutes, the gates of the Kessler mansion were sliding shut behind them, and the car pulled out onto the long gravel drive, leaving behind the cold stone walls Sienna had learned to associate with everything she resented about this marriage.

She settled into the leather seat, arms crossed, watching the mansion shrink in the side mirror, when her phone buzzed against her thigh.

She fished it out of her jacket pocket and saw Aria’s name lighting up the screen, and despite everything, a small, genuine smile tugged at her mouth. She answered before the second ring finished.

”Girl, tell me about your night,” Aria’s voice came through immediately, bright and eager, not even bothering with a hello. ”How was it? Did you finally...”

”Aria, calm down.” Sienna cut her off quickly, glancing sideways. Though Viktor’s attention seemed fixed politely out the window, she knew better than to think he wasn’t listening.

”And this is not a good time.” She lowered her voice slightly, cupping a hand loosely around the phone as if it might help.

”Your uncle is taking me to God knows where, saying we’re going on a honeymoon. So if you want details, you’ll have to wait until much later, because I have no idea what he’s planning.”

Beside her, Viktor smiled small, private, entirely too pleased with himself for a man pretending not to eavesdrop.

”Oh girl, I cannot wait,” Aria said, practically bouncing through the phone.

”You’re telling me every single detail when you get back. Please have fun, okay? Try and have fun.” A dramatic little sigh followed.

”Oh my God, I wish I was there, but I can’t be, girl. It’s your honeymoon, so I’m going to leave you to enjoy it and get back to work.” A pause, her tone shifting into something gentler, more protective.

”When you come back, I want the full details. And if my uncle bullies you, tell me immediately. I have ways to get back at him.”

Sienna huffed a soft laugh despite herself, glancing at Viktor from the corner of her eye. ”Are you sure? I know how terrified you are of him.”

”I am,” Aria admitted without hesitation, and there was something so simple and unshaken in the way she said it that it warmed something in Sienna’s chest.

”But when it comes to you, I’ll defend you from the devil itself if I have to.”

”Okay, girl, I get it.” Sienna smiled properly now, something soft and grateful in it.

”I have to go. Bye.” She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her pocket, letting the quiet hum of the car fill the space Aria’s voice had left behind.

Viktor watched her for a moment, something unreadable passing behind his eyes, before he reached into the small bag by his feet and pulled out a wrapped sandwich, holding it out to her.

”You didn’t have breakfast,” he said. ”Maybe you should take this.”

Sienna stared at the sandwich, then at him, torn between two entirely opposite instincts the small, traitorous part of her that wanted to melt at the gesture, and the larger, more stubborn part that refused to let him win so easily.

”Whose fault is it that I couldn’t have breakfast in the first place?” she said instead, arching a brow, taking the sandwich from him with more attitude than gratitude.

She wanted to thank him. She really did. The gesture was thoughtful in a way she hadn’t expected from him, small and domestic and strangely tender for a man who ran his world by intimidation alone.

But being kind to him right now, sitting this close, still feeling the ghost of his hands from the dream and the very real weight of his arm around her thighs from being carried only minutes ago, was not going to do her any good at all.

So she did the only sensible thing left to her. She let her voice sharpen, let her expression harden into something flat and unimpressed, determined to smother the warm, dangerous thing blooming in her chest before it could grow any further because being mean to Viktor, she’d decided, was infinitely safer than admitting just how much she was starting to want him.