Page 43 of The Mafia's Quintuplets

"Then perhaps they should reconsider their expansion into the docks." I gather the necessary files from my desk. "That's disrespect with actual consequences."

Fedor's expression remains carefully neutral, but disapproval radiates from him, nonetheless. "The men have noticed your...preoccupation lately. There are questions about your focus."

"Let them question. Silently." I step closer, using the three inches of height I have over him to full advantage. "Unless you're suggesting open dissent in my organization?"

He steps back slightly. "Of course not. I'm merely conveying concerns as your second. That's my job."

"Your job is to support my decisions, not question them." I move toward the door. "The meeting starts when I arrive. Not before."

He follows, matching my stride down the corridor. "The woman is changing you, Mak, and not for the better."

I stop abruptly, causing him to nearly collide with my back. "Choose your next words very carefully, cousin."

"I speak only out of concern for our family interests." His tone remains even and reasonable. "You're patrolling the grounds yourself at night. Micromanaging security rotations. Spending hours watching her from windows instead of focusing on business." He gestures back toward my study. "The Mak I know delegates these tasks to focus on strategy."

He's not entirely wrong, which makes his observation more infuriating. I have been handling minor security matters personally, unwilling to entrust Wil's safety entirely to others. I've found myself checking and rechecking measures that previously would have received only cursory attention.

"Perhaps I see vulnerabilities my men might miss." I continue walking, forcing him to catch up. "The estate security was designed to repel external threats, not protect specific individuals within."

"And that's precisely my point." He keeps pace beside me. "You've always prioritized organizational security over individual concerns. It's why we've thrived while other families fractured." His voice drops lower. "Sentimentality is dangerous in our position."

We reach the conference room doors, where I hear voices from inside. I pause before entering, turning to face him directly. "Family has always been my priority. That hasn't changed."

"Family, yes." His eyes narrow slightly. "But she's not family, Mak. Not really. She's a complication… A vulnerability our enemies are already watching. The Kazanovs have increased surveillance on our movements tenfold since word leaked about your...situation."

I step closer, speaking in a harsh whisper. "When I want your opinions on my personal matters, I'll ask for them. Until then, focus on business. Nothing else."

Without waiting for his response, I push open the double doors and enter the conference room, where six Italian men in expensive suits rise from their seats. The conversation shifts instantly to territorial negotiations, import routes, and mutual protection agreements. I participate fully, presenting the persona of thepakhanthey expect, but part of my mind remains in the garden with Wil and Zina. That’s where I feel at peace.

By the time the meeting concludes two hours later, we've reached a tentative agreement that benefits both families while costing minimal concessions. I've always excelled at negotiation by reading opponents and leveraging weaknesses. The Moretti underboss leaves visibly relieved, having expected a more contentious interaction.

Fedor gathers his notes methodically as the room clears, his tone suggesting surprise. "Effective as always."

I ignore the implied insult. "Have Leonid verify their shipment documentation before committing resources. The numbers seemed convenient."

"Already arranged." He straightens his impeccable suit jacket. "The men expect you at the Brighton warehouse opening tonight. Your absence would be noted."

The warehouse represents months of planning, a legitimate front business that will streamline our import operations while providing an above-board income stream. My presence at the opening sends a message about its importance within our organization.

"I'll be there." The thought of leaving the estate and Wil creates immediate unease, but it can’t be helped. "Arrange additional security here while I'm gone."

His expression tightens momentarily before smoothing into compliance. "I'll handle it personally."

Something in his tone triggers warning bells, but before I can question him further, Leonid appears in the doorway. "Sir, Ms. Lamb's physician has arrived for her scheduled appointment. You asked to be notified."

"Thank you, Leonid." I turn back to Fedor. "We'll finish this discussion later."

His slight nod contains more resignation than agreement, but I leave without further comment, my thoughts already shifting to Wil's appointment. The high-risk pregnancy specialist I've engaged is the best in the city, with experience in multiple births and a discretion well-compensated by Bratva funds.

I find them in the medical suite I had installed in the east wing specifically for Wil's prenatal care. Dr. Phillips, a reserved woman in her fifties, performs an ultrasound while Zina holds Wil's hand. I pause in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on what feels like a private moment.

On the monitor, five distinct shapes pulse with life, their heartbeats creating a complex symphony through the machine's speakers. Dr. Phillips points to each one in turn, identifying features that appear as indistinct blurs to my untrained eye. "Development continues on schedule." Her voice maintains professional neutrality. "As expected with quintuplets, they're measuring slightly smaller than singleton pregnancies at this stage."

Wil's face shows concern. "Is that something we should worry about?"

"Not yet. It's typical with multiples." Dr. Phillips adjusts something on the machine. "Your blood pressure is slightly elevated, however. I'd like you to monitor it more frequently."

Zina squeezes Wil's hand. "I'll make sure she rests."

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