Page 125 of Mafia King's Broken Vow

Mila kneels beside me, her smile bright as she addresses Damien. “I hear you’re quite the chess player,” she says. “Your uncle’s been teaching you?”

Damien’s chest puffs with pride. “I beat him again last time!”

“He’s exaggerating,” I tell her, though pride warms my voice. “But not by much.”

Damien’s curious gaze shifts between Mila and me, and I see the exact moment realization dawns in his eight-year-old mind. His eyes widen slightly.

“Are you Uncle Yakov’s girlfriend?” he asks Mila.

Mila glances at me, a soft smile playing at her lips. “I am,” she says simply.

“Good,” Damien declares with surprising solemnity. “He needs someone to make him smile more. Father says Uncle Yakov used to be too serious all the time.”

“Did he now?” Mila’s eyes sparkle with amusement, and something tight in my chest loosens at how easily they’re connecting.

“Are you going to marry him?” Damien continues, completely unaware of the bomb he’s just dropped into our peaceful afternoon.

Mila’s cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t fumble. “That’s a very important question,” she tells him seriously. “What do you think? Should I?”

Damien considers this with the gravity of a judge. “Do you make him happy?”

“I try to.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“Very much.”

“Then yes,” Damien says with eight-year-old logic. “But you have to promise to come to chess games too. Uncle Yakov is teaching me to be patient, but sometimes I forget.”

“I promise,” Mila says, and I see she means it.

Damien grins and impulsively hugs her around the waist, the same enthusiastic embrace he gave me. Mila’s surprise quickly melts into warmth as she returns the hug, and I watch my nephew’s easy acceptance of the woman who’s changed everything for me.

When Damien pulls back, he looks up at me with Ana’s eyes. “I like her, Uncle Yakov. She has kind eyes like Mother does in the pictures.”

The observation hits me like a physical blow, not painful, but overwhelming in its simple truth. I kneel beside them both, one hand on Damien’s shoulder, the other finding Mila’s.

“Your mother would have liked Mila too,” I tell him, meaning every word.

As Damien races off to rejoin Lev, Mila and I are left standing together, the weight of his innocent question hanging between us.

“Well,” Mila says, a slight tremor in her voice. “That was…”

“Direct,” I finish, studying her face for any sign of panic or retreat. Instead, I find something that looks like hope. “He has a tendency toward that. Ana was the same way as a kid.”

“Are you okay with what I told him?” she asks quietly. “I know we haven’t talked about…the future. About anything that permanent.”

I step closer, framing her face with my hands. “I’m okay with it because it’s true,” I say simply. “Soon, when the dust settles and the threats are neutralized…I want that with you. All of it.”

Her breath catches. “Yakov?—”

“Not today,” I clarify quickly. “Not until I can promise you complete safety as well as love. But soon.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “If you’ll have me.”

“Yes,” she whispers without hesitation. “Soon.”

We join the others, and the afternoon unfolds with surprising ease. Nikolai mans the grill with the serious attention he brings to everything, Katarina orchestrates conversations with diplomatic skill, and even Igor seems to relax as the day progresses.

Aleksander engages me in discussion about security protocols for the upcoming Bratva event, his approach professional rather than suspicious.