Page 13 of The Mafia's Quintuplets

But now?

"It served its purpose," I say with a thin smile. That's more honesty than I've offered anyone outside family in years. "Lately, I find myself questioning its value."

"Then why continue?" Her question is so simple yet impossibly complex.

I laugh, though the sound is devoid of actual humor. "Some paths, once chosen, don't allow for easy exits. Bridges get burned, but that’s the only way forward sometimes."

She studies me with unexpected perception, as though seeing beyond the carefully constructed painting I present to the world. "That sounds like a poor rationalization."

"Perhaps it is." Her directness is surprising, but maybe it’s because she doesn’t know who I really am. Other people are more cautious with their words.

I cock my head to the side, looking into her pretty green eyes. "But tonight isn't about my professional dilemmas," I say, my voice deepening.

"What is it about, then?" She sets her empty glass on the coffee table, a gentle curiosity in her eyes.

I lean forward, close enough to catch the sweet floral scent of her perfume. It’s like bubblegum and flowers. "Tonight is about the unexpected connection between two strangers. About what happens when we set aside our usual roles and simply... exist together."

Her eyes darken slightly, pupils dilating in response to my proximity. "That sounds suspiciously like a line, Maxim."

"Not a line. An observation." My voice drops lower. "You feel it too, this current between us. Something beyond the usual attraction. Something clicking into place."

She doesn't deny it while dropping her gaze briefly to my lips before returning to meet my gaze. "I don't normally do this. Any of this."

"Neither do I." That's the absolute truth. Despite countless women over the years, I rarely allow genuine connection. Physical release, yes. Strategic liaisons, certainly, but this vulnerability? Never.

"Somehow, I doubt that." A hint of playful skepticism flashes across her face. "I imagine women are quite susceptible to your particular brand of intensity."

I smile at her perception. "You're deflecting."

"So are you." She matches my directness.

The challenge hangs between us, acknowledgment of mutual attraction and shared hesitation. For different reasons, perhaps, but equally real. I reach out slowly, giving her time to withdraw, and brush a strand of hair from her face. The gesture is gentle, almost tentative which is unfamiliar territory for a man accustomed to taking what he wants without question.

"I haven't enjoyed a genuine conversation like this in longer than I can remember." My fingers linger against her cheek. "Most people want something from me. Position, protection, or power by association. Their words are premeditated, and their interest is performative."

"And you think mine isn't?" She leans subtly into my touch.

"I know it isn't." Certainty fills my voice. "You have no idea who I really am, or what I control. Your interest is in the man before you, not the name or the resources."

She catches my wrist lightly, not pushing me away but holding me there, her skin warm against mine. "And if I did know? Would that change things?"

"Inevitably." The honesty surprises us both. "Knowledge brings complications, expectations, and even fear sometimes.”

"Are you afraid of being known, Maxim?" The question cuts to the heart of something I rarely examine.

"Perhaps." I turn my hand to capture hers, intertwining our fingers. "Or perhaps I'm afraid of what knowing me would do to someone like you."

The confession lingers between us like the smoke from candles. In her eyes, I see understanding dawning, not of specifics, but of the essential truth. Whatever I am, whoever I am, carries danger in its wake.

"I'm stronger than I look." Her voice softens as her thumb traces patterns against my palm.

"I don't doubt it." I bring our joined hands to my lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. "Tonight isn't about strength or weakness. It's about choice and presence. It's about staying in this moment without the past or future complicating it."

"Just now." She reaches up to stroke the line of my jaw, her touch exploratory and tentative.

"Just now." I lean into her touch. "And what do you want in this moment, Willemina?"

Her breath stills for a second, and her eyes darken as she makes her decision. "Right now, I want you to kiss me."

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