Page 43 of Mafia Kingdom

"I'm always in danger," I reply honestly. "It comes with the territory."

"But from your own family?"

I gaze out the window, watching the city lights blur past. "Especially from family."

She's quiet for a moment, absorbing this. "Is it because of me? Gerald seemed to think I was the reason your father's unhappy."

I turn to look at her, suddenly wanting her to understand. "My father believes in absolute control—control over the family, the business, every aspect of our lives. He sees any…personal attachment as weakness."

"Like me," she concludes softly.

"Like you," I confirm. "But my father doesn't dictate who I allow into my life."

Her eyes widen slightly at the echo of what I'd said to Gerald in the garden. She heard more than I realized.

"So tonight isn't just about the senator," she says. "It's about showing strength to your father, too."

"You're perceptive," I murmur, impressed despite myself. "Yes, tonight serves multiple purposes."

Sasha nods, looking thoughtful. "What does he want that you've been refusing to give him?"

I hesitate, weighing how much to share. But she's already in too deep—knowing more might actually protect her.

"Control," I say simply. "I've been making decisions independently, expanding our territory, moving into new ventures. My father prefers…traditional methods."

"By traditional, you mean illegal," she clarifies, but there's no judgment in her tone, just pragmatism.

I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "Among other things."

She falls silent again, her gaze distant. Then, unexpectedly, she slides closer to me on the seat.

"If I'm playing the role of your willing date tonight," she says, her voice taking on a new determination, "then we should make it convincing."

Before I can respond, she takes my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. The gesture is simple but intimate—and completely unexpected.

"What are you doing?" I ask, genuinely confused by this sudden shift.

She meets my gaze steadily. "If your father thinks I'm a distraction, a weakness, then let's use that. Make him underestimate you."

I stare at her, momentarily at a loss for words. This woman—who was my reluctant prisoner just days ago—is now offering to help me outmaneuver my father.

"You don't have to do this," I say quietly.

"I know." She squeezes my hand slightly. "But I'm choosing to. One night, like we agreed. Might as well make it count, right?"

Something shifts between us in that moment—a recalibration, an unexpected alliance. She's still desperate to get back to her sister. But now, she's also my willing accomplice, at least for tonight.

"Right," I agree, returning the pressure of her hand.

As the car continues toward the event, I find myself reevaluating Sasha Gillespie. She's not just beautiful, not just fierce in protecting what she loves. She's shrewd, adaptable, and far more dangerous than I've given her credit for.

And if we both survive the night, I mighthave to reconsider letting her go when our two days are up.

My phone vibrates in my pocket—another message from the unknown number. One word:

"Tonight."

With Sasha's hand still in mine, I delete the message and focus on what lies ahead. First the senator, then the docks. One step at a time.

---