Page 38 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

“The wedding made you visible,” he says finally. “We expected some reaction from the Colombians. We’re still trying to identify where they’re probing.”

I turn toward him slightly. “You say that like I’m a shipping route.”

“In some ways, you are.”

“That’s a horrifying statement.”

He almost smiles, then thinks better of it. God, he’s annoying when he does that.

“The route teams are still clearing movement patterns,” he continues. “Transportation’s ready. Site security mostly is. But I don’t want you moving until we finish mapping exposure points.”

I resent the explanation for being reasonable.

“I can’t disappear from my business for weeks.”

“You won’t.”

The certainty in his voice pulls my attention back to him fully.

“I built this business from scratch,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t argue. “I know.”

Mark’s name rises in my throat. I want to tell him the real reason I said yes.

“One client already got nervous,” I say instead. “The others will follow.”

He sets his phone down on the desk beside the fabric samples. “I’ll make sure they keep associating your name with competence instead of chaos.”

I blink at him. “That sounds disturbingly corporate for a bratva boss.”

“We prefer ‘organized.’”

I sigh, not quite able to laugh at the joke. “I’m serious, Aleksander.”

“So am I.”

Outside, rain streaks softly across the glass, Manhattan blurred silver and gray beneath the clouds.

“I’m putting full protocols in place,” he says after a moment. “Rotating vehicles. Site coverage. Route clearance. You’ll be able to move normally again.”

“Normally.”

“As close to it as possible.”

“How long until that happens?”

“A few days.”

Aleksander notices the shift in my expression. “You thought I was going to keep you here indefinitely.”

“You haven’t exactly explained the long-term vision.”

“The long-term vision is that you continue having a life.”

The answer comes so simply, it catches me off guard. Men in his position don’t say “continue having a life” as if some version of it could exist outside of the marriage.

I imagine it before I can stop myself, a life where the worst thing that happens on a Tuesday is a burned rice pan and his dry commentary about prison food.