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

”Are you okay?” Viktor asked, noticing the sudden stillness in her, his hand moving in slow circles against her back.

”Ah, yes. I’m fine,” Sienna said, clearing her throat and reaching quickly for her glass of water.

A small, uneasy thought slid through her mind before she could stop it, quiet and quick. She had not taken any after pills since the last time she and Viktor had been together.

She pushed the thought away almost as fast as it came. No, no. It was just this ridiculous talk of children messing with her head, nothing more than that. She was twenty-five. Her life was already tangled enough without adding anything else to it. This was not the time to think about any of that.

”Yes, well,” she said instead, steadying her voice, ”maybe someday.”

”Of course,” Viktor said, his tone easy, gentle. ”Whenever you’re ready. It’s your body. I respect that.”

Right then, his phone buzzed against the table, the sound sharp in the quiet room. He glanced at the screen, and something in his jaw tightened for just a second before he answered it.

Perfect timing, Sienna thought, grateful for the interruption, and she turned back to her plate, letting the whole conversation about children slide quietly off the table along with it.

Viktor answered the call and set the phone down flat on the table between them, the speaker on loud, his eyes never leaving Sienna’s face even as the voice came through.

”Viktor. Viktor.” Marcel’s voice crackled out of the small speaker, tight and rushed. Viktor did not flinch, did not even glance down at the phone.

”I know you hate me enough to kill me, but...” Marcel went on, the words tumbling out fast, almost breathless.

”I swear, please, help save my mother, and I will do anything. I’ll stop messing with you. I’ll stop fighting for the family business. I’ll stay away from you.” A short pause, then, quieter, more urgent, ”And far away from Sienna.”

Sienna’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. Her brow furrowed, confusion crossing her face. What did she have to do with any of this?

”Marcel,” Viktor said, his voice flat and cold, ”I’m glad you know I want to kill you. And why the fuck would I want to save your mother, after everything she’s done? If I had her captured right now, I wouldn’t even keep her alive.” He let that sit for a second before going on.

”And as for my wife,” his eyes flicked up to Sienna, something sharp flashing through them, ”you never had a chance with her. Not for a second. You think I was afraid you’d take her from me?” He scoffed, a short, humorless sound. ”In your dreams.”

The words landed on Sienna slowly, one after another, until the full shape of it finally settled into place. Marcel had liked her. All this time, and she had never known it, never even suspected it.

Pieces of the past few months rearranged themselves in her mind as she sat there. The time Viktor had gone rigid the moment he saw her talking to Marcel, had crossed the room fast and hit him without a word of explanation.

She had thought it was jealousy, plain and simple, Viktor treating her like something he owned, something he did not want touched or spoken to by anyone else. But it had not only been that. Marcel had wanted something more from her the whole time, something she had never once noticed. She said nothing now, but quietly, carefully, she understood.

”Please, Viktor,” Marcel’s voice came through the speaker again, thinner now, desperate. ”I would do anything.” A pause, his voice cracking slightly. ”She’s all I have.”

”I really wish I could, Marcel,” Viktor said, and for a moment something almost sincere crept into his voice. ”I would love to rescue her from Don Konstantin and punish her myself. But it’s not worth it.”

”But Sienna could,” Marcel said.

Viktor sat up straight in his chair, all at once, his whole body going still and alert. Across the table, Sienna’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth again, frozen there.

”What do you mean?” Viktor asked, sharp now, each word clipped.

”I mean,” Marcel said, and Sienna could hear him choosing his next words carefully, dancing around something, ”your wife can save her. When she asks the don, he will listen.” He was clearly trying to skirt around the full truth of it, but the way he said it made it plain to both of them, Sienna and Viktor, that Marcel knew something more than he was letting on.

”I came to you first,” Marcel added quickly, before either of them could push further. ”I could have gone straight to him. All I want is to save my mother.” His voice softened, almost pleading now. ”Please, Viktor. Think about it. Get back to me.”

The line went dead.

”I will kill him,” Viktor said, his voice low and hard, his fingers curling into a fist against the table. ”How does he know?” He said it again, quieter, almost to himself, his mind clearly turning it over from every angle. ”This was not supposed to get out.” A tight, controlled rage sat behind every word.

Sienna reached over and laid her hand gently over his fist on the table. ”It would be a waste to let this evening get ruined,” she said. ”Let’s deal with that tomorrow. We’ll find out exactly what he knows. But for now, I refuse to let this ruin my hard earned peace.”

Viktor looked at her for a long moment, then let out a slow breath, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders, though not all of it.

”I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” he said, forcing his voice to stay calm. It worked, barely. Underneath the calm, his mind was already racing ahead, already running through every way he might pull the truth out of Marcel by force, every way he might silence him for good, or use whatever leverage the man believed he had against him instead.