The Mafia King's Secret Queen

Chapter 8: Getting to Know You

🖤 THE MAFIA KING'S SECRET QUEEN

Chapter Eight — Getting to Know You

The days following the engagement announcement passed faster than Fia expected.

There were meetings.

Guest lists.

Dress fittings.

Discussions about the wedding.

And far too many conversations about things she had never considered important before.

Flowers.

Venues.

Menus.

Music.

Photographs.

Fia had always thought weddings were supposed to be about two people.

Apparently, she had been wrong.

In wealthy families, weddings were also business.

Reputation.

Tradition.

And sometimes, politics.

Still, there was one part of the process she didn't completely dislike.

Zavian.

Since their first meeting, they had started speaking more often.

Not constantly.

Neither of them was the type.

But enough.

A short message in the morning.

A conversation in the evening.

Occasional meetings when their schedules allowed.

And slowly, without either of them noticing, the stranger they had agreed to marry was becoming someone familiar.

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A Morning Visit

"He's here."

Fia looked up from her book.

Clara stood in the doorway.

"Who?"

Clara stared at her.

"Your fiancé."

Fia blinked.

"Already?"

"It's ten in the morning."

"Exactly."

Clara laughed.

"You sound disappointed."

"I'm surprised."

"Same thing."

Fia closed her book.

"Where is he?"

"In the living room."

Fia stood.

She had been expecting Zavian later that afternoon.

Apparently, he had changed his plans.

When she entered the living room, she found him standing near the windows, speaking with Marcus.

He wore a dark gray suit without a tie.

His dark hair was slightly tousled.

And those steel-gray eyes immediately moved toward her.

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

Marcus smiled.

"I'll leave you two to talk."

Fia gave him a suspicious look.

"Uncle Marcus."

He ignored her.

A moment later, he disappeared through the adjoining door.

Fia looked at Zavian.

"He did that deliberately."

"I believe so."

She smiled.

"Why are you here?"

"I had a meeting nearby."

"And?"

"I thought I'd stop by."

Fia raised an eyebrow.

"That's unusually spontaneous."

"I can be spontaneous."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Fair."

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Coffee

They moved to the terrace.

A housekeeper brought them coffee before leaving them alone.

Fia wrapped both hands around her cup.

Zavian sat opposite her.

For a while, they simply talked.

Nothing important.

Nothing serious.

He asked about her work with the foundation.

She told him about an upcoming education program.

She asked about his businesses.

He explained enough for her to understand the basics without discussing anything confidential.

Eventually, Fia asked:

"Do you actually enjoy your work?"

Zavian looked at her.

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Some days are better than others."

"What about the rest?"

"I tolerate them."

She smiled.

"That's reassuring."

"Why?"

"Because I was beginning to think you enjoyed being busy twenty-four hours a day."

"I don't."

"Then why do you work so much?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"Because people depend on me."

The answer was simple.

Fia understood it immediately.

"Your family?"

"My family. My employees. People whose lives are connected to the decisions I make."

He looked toward the city.

"If I make a careless decision, it doesn't affect only me."

Fia studied him.

That explained more about him than any article ever could.

He wasn't obsessed with power.

He was responsible for it.

There was a difference.

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A Question About Her

Zavian turned his attention back to her.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you want?"

Fia smiled.

"That's a broad question."

"Answer it however you want."

She thought for a moment.

"A peaceful life."

His eyes remained on her.

"That's all?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"Maybe."

She looked toward the garden.

"I don't need an empire."

"You might."

She glanced at him.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're ambitious."

"I am?"

"You don't seem like someone who would be satisfied being told what to do."

Fia laughed softly.

"You're right."

Zavian smiled.

"I usually am."

She gave him a look.

"Don't get too confident."

"I'll try."

For a moment, they simply looked at each other.

There was no awkwardness.

No forced conversation.

Just familiarity.

It was strange.

They had known each other for such a short time.

Yet talking to him had become easy.

Too easy.

Fia reminded herself not to get careless.

There were still things he didn't know.

Things she couldn't tell him.

Things she had promised herself would remain hidden.

She lowered her gaze to her coffee.

Zavian noticed.

But he didn't ask.

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The Rules They Didn't Need

Later that afternoon, they walked through the Vale gardens.

The path curved between rows of flowers and tall trees.

Fia walked beside him.

"You know," she said, "we haven't actually discussed what happens after the wedding."

"We live together."

"Obviously."

"You continue your work."

"Yes."

"I continue mine."

"Yes."

She glanced at him.

"And that's it?"

"What else were you expecting?"

"I don't know."

Zavian looked at her.

"We'll figure it out."

Something about the answer made her smile.

There was no elaborate promise.

No claim that everything would be perfect.

Just honesty.

They would figure it out.

Together.

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They reached a small gazebo at the edge of the garden.

Fia stopped.

"This is my favorite place."

Zavian looked around.

"Why?"

"It's quiet."

He nodded.

"I understand."

"You like quiet too."

"Very much."

She smiled.

"Maybe that's why we get along."

"Maybe."

The word hung between them.

Neither hurried to fill the silence.

Then Fia noticed something.

A small cut across his knuckles.

She frowned.

"You're hurt."

Zavian looked at his hand.

"It's nothing."

"That's what everyone says when it's something."

"It's a scratch."

"Still."

She reached into her handbag and pulled out a small packet of antiseptic wipes.

Zavian watched her.

"You carry those around?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because people get hurt."

"You're prepared."

"I try to be."

She took his hand.

He went still.

Not because he disliked the contact.

Because it was unexpected.

Fia carefully cleaned the small cut.

Neither spoke.

When she finished, she released him.

"There."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She started walking again.

Zavian looked at his hand for a moment.

It was ridiculous.

It was nothing.

Just a small gesture.

Yet he found himself thinking about it long after she had walked ahead.

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A Small Change

That evening, Zavian returned to the Devereaux estate.

Lucien was waiting in the living room.

"You were gone for hours."

"I had things to do."

Lucien studied him.

"With Fia?"

Zavian removed his watch.

"Yes."

Lucien smiled.

"You like her."

Zavian looked at him.

"I respect her."

"That's not what I said."

"Then you should have said something else."

Lucien laughed.

"You're getting defensive."

"I'm not."

"You are."

Zavian walked past him.

Lucien followed.

"You know, I've never seen you spend this much time with anyone."

Zavian stopped.

He turned around.

"She's going to be my wife."

Lucien's smile faded into something more genuine.

"Yeah."

A pause.

"She seems good for you."

Zavian didn't answer.

But the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

Lucien noticed.

Of course he did.

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That night, Fia sat by her bedroom window.

Her phone rested beside her.

A message appeared.

Zavian: Goodnight.

She stared at it for a moment.

Then smiled.

Fia: Goodnight.

She put the phone down.

Her gaze moved toward the locked drawer across the room.

The smile disappeared.

For a few seconds, she simply stared at it.

Then she looked back at her phone.

Zavian had no idea what was inside that drawer.

He didn't know what she had spent years protecting.

He didn't know that the woman he was slowly getting to know had carefully separated her present from her past.

And Fia intended to keep it that way.

At least for now.

Because the more she got to know Zavian, the more difficult one truth was becoming.

She had expected to marry a stranger.

Instead, she was beginning to care about him.

And that was dangerous.

Not because Zavian was dangerous to her.

But because the closer he got to her heart, the harder it would become to keep him away from her secrets.