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

”What is this, Viktor?” she asked, trying hard not to smile, trying to pretend she had not already been won over by all this sweetness, this care, this warmth she had not known he was capable of, and trying not to wonder, too much, when exactly he had found the time to arrange all of it.

It may not have looked like much to anyone else, a table, some candles, a room full of flowers. But for a man like Viktor, this was a great deal. He understood the language of guns and violence far better than he understood anything soft.

The very first night he had taken her, dragged her into the back of a van against her will, he had grabbed her phone and scrolled through it, mocking her when he found the messages, laughing that she was the chocolate and roses type, the kind of girl who liked flowers and sweet words, as if it were something small and silly about her.

She had been so angry with him for it then, furious in a way that had stayed with her for days.

But now, standing here in this room, it seemed he had actually been listening the whole time. No one had ever done anything quite like this for her before, not once, not in her whole life.

”I know I was wrong,” Viktor said, his voice quiet now, stripped of all its usual hardness. ”I really know I should have told you. I didn’t see you as weak. I know exactly how smart and brilliant you are. I never doubted that, not for a second. You have amazed me every single time.” He paused, and something almost shy crossed his face.

”There were days, watching how you handled a gun, that made me wonder what kind of dangerous, well, sexy mafia woman you would have made if things had gone differently.” A small breath left him, and his eyes grew more serious again.

”At the same time, I know how much you hate talking about your real family. The whole weight of not knowing who they were. That made me want to protect you. And when Carina told me how everyone would come hunting for you the moment they learned who you really were, I let that fear take over.” He shook his head slowly.

”That’s never an excuse to hide the truth from you. I know that. But I was scared, Sienna. I really was.” He looked at her now, steady, searching her face. ”Forgive me. Please. Give me another chance.”

Sienna was quiet for a moment, letting his words settle over her.

”I was angry,” she said finally. ”I still am. But you’re warming me up a little.” A faint, reluctant smile tugged at her mouth despite herself.

”And if I’m being honest, I don’t even know what hurt more, finding out who I really am, or finding out what you hid from me. I think knowing who I am made me angrier, if anything. But it’s fine.” She lifted her chin slightly, her eyes holding his now, steady and clear. ”You can never hide anything from me again, alright.”

”Never,” Viktor said. ”I learned my lesson.” He reached for her then, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her close, his face pressing briefly against her before he tipped his head up to look at her properly.

”Now please, look at me. I missed those eyes.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. ”I thought I was going to lose you.” He hugged her tight around the middle, his arms locking there like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

”I can’t breathe,” Sienna said, laughing despite herself, her hands pressing lightly against his shoulders.

He did not loosen his hold, not right away.

”Viktor, you’re breaking my bones,” she teased, half laughing, half scolding.

”Sorry,” he said, finally easing his grip, though his hands stayed resting at her waist. ”And you know, I had a dream. Well...” he paused, glancing sideways at her, ”I wasn’t actually asleep. I was awake.”

”Oh really,” Sienna said, one eyebrow lifting. ”Tell me about it while we eat.”

”I’m not hungry,” Viktor said, ”but all of this is for you.” He guided her gently toward the small table, pulling out her chair, then settling into the seat beside her, one hand finding her thigh under the table, his thumb moving there in slow, absent circles as he talked.

”I had a dream that we had a daughter. A very cute little girl. And she could handle a gun just like you. Never missed a shot.” He smiled slightly at the memory of it, even if it had only lived inside his own head. ”She had it pointed straight at me, actually, and I kept telling her to put it down.”

Sienna laughed, forking a bite of food into her mouth, shaking her head at him.

”And she actually took the shot,” Viktor went on. ”It didn’t hit me. It hit a portrait hanging right behind me. The bullet passed straight through my forehead in the painting.” He shook his head slowly, still half smiling at the strangeness of it. ”And she just smiled at me and said, See, I don’t miss. If you hurt my mommy again, I won’t miss the next time.”

Sienna nearly choked on her food, laughing harder now. ”Oh really,” she managed between breaths. ”You dreamt that? Or had a vision?”

”Believe me,” Viktor said, quiet and sincere now, ”it felt so real.” He looked at her, something soft and wanting in his eyes. ”And suddenly, I want to have many mini-yous running around this house.”

Sienna froze mid-bite, nearly choking a second time, coughing lightly into her fist. What was wrong with everyone today? First Aria, casually demanding a niece on her way out of the room, and now Viktor, sitting here talking about children over a candlelit dinner, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to bring up.

Sienna had honestly never let herself think that far ahead. Not once.