Page 63 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

Something about the way she says it feels like a lesson she absorbed before she understood what she was learning.

“She stayed home?” I ask.

Tamara nods once. “She used to paint before she married him.” Her mouth curves in a way that’s sadder than a smile. “By the time I was ten, I mostly remember her organizing charity dinners and pretending not to notice when men with guns appeared in the house.”

The words land heavily between us.

“And you?”

“I wanted something that belonged to me. That’s why I built the business.”

“And now?” I ask.

Despair flickers openly across her face.

“I didn’t want this, Aleksander.” Her voice softens. “I still don’t.”

People move through the market carrying coffee cups and shopping bags and ordinary lives while she looks at me like she’s trying to decide whether honesty is dangerous.

“I don’t want guns in my house,” she says in a voice so low I can barely hear her. “I don’t want a child growing up with security teams following him around. Learning how to read a room for danger before he’s old enough to drive.”

I hate how precisely she describes the life I was born into and the life she spent years trying to escape.

A flake catches in her hair and vanishes before I can decide whether to notice it. I take her empty coffee cup and toss both of ours into a nearby bin.

“Come on.”

“Where now?”

“You still need a dress.”

She groans softly. “Aleksander. I have nice dresses. Please⁠—”

“You survived the bratva part. Now you survive Bergdorf’s.”

“I genuinely think I prefer armed security.”

19

THIS DRESS HAS ITS OWN TAX BRACKET. (TAMARA)

When I step back into the fitting area, Aleksander lowers his phone slowly.

Then forgets to put it away.

“Well,” Diane says softly beside him. “There she is.”

My face gives me away immediately. Aleksander stands.

“That one,” he says.

“You like it?”

“I like you in it.”

The words land embarrassingly hard. Diane disappears with the efficiency of a woman who has learned exactly when not to be present.

I glance back toward the mirror.