Page 8 of Savage Mafia King

As we pull up to St. Joseph’s, I marvel at the grandeur of it all. The towering gates, the ivy-covered walls, the pristine uniforms of the children milling about the courtyard. Marie’s about to attend a school I never could have dreamed of sending her to. Another thing I could never have given her on my own.

The guards hang back, their presence a constant reminder of the new life we’ve stepped into. They hover like shadows as I walk Marie to the front door, their eyes scanning every corner, every passerby. They’re there to protect us, but their presence also serves as a reminder that danger is always lurking.

I’ve already registered Marie and spoken to her teachers. Everything is in place. Yet, as I say goodbye and watch her walk inside, I feel a hollowness settle into my chest. What do I do now? What am I supposed to be without her?

I could go back to the house and swim, or ride horses, or take a nap. But none of it sounds appealing. None of it feels likeme. What I really want—what I crave—is to be with Dimitri. To understand him. To know what he does all day, what he thinks about, what drives him. Does he ever think of me beyond the confines of our marriage?

Will he ever love me?

It’s a foolish question, one I don’t even know why I’m asking. Love has no place here. This marriage isn’t about love—it’s about survival. But still, the thought lingers in my mind, like a spark waiting to catch fire. Does he feel anything for me? Or am I just another acquisition, another thing to possess and control?

Every night this week, he’s come to bed the same way—stripped down to his boxer briefs, his body radiating heat as he pulls me against him. He holds me the same way he did on our wedding night, his touch possessive yet patient. He tells me he’ll wait for me to feel better, but he won’t wait forever. His words are a promise, but they’re also a warning.

What does it mean that he’s waiting? What is he waitingfor? And why do I tremble every time he lays beside me, my body betraying the fear that courses through my veins?

I can feel him. Every night, his hardness presses against me, just a thin layer of fabric separating us. Two pieces of cloth are all that stand between us consummating this marriage, between me giving him what he wants. What I want.

Yes, I want him. That’s the truth of it. I’ve spent every night wondering what it would feel like to have him inside me, to feel him move against me, to hear his voice as he loses himself in me. What would it be like to have him claim me fully, to feel his lips trailing down my neck, closing over my nipple?

I’m scared, yes. But I’m also curious. Desperate, even. There’s a part of me that wants to ask him to keep going, even if I seem scared. I want him to push past the fear, to take me and fuck it right out of me.

But I hesitate. I’m not sure what to do. Should I ask him? Should I let him know that I want this even though I’m afraid? Or shouldI try harder to hide the fear, to stop the trembling, and let him have me without reservation?

One thing is certain—he won’t wait much longer. Dimitri will claim me. And when he does, I’ll have to be ready.

Because once that happens, there’s no going back.

8

Dimitri

Dinner feels off tonight. There's a tension hanging in the air, thick and stifling, settling over the table like a suffocating fog. Marie, normally so chatty, is barely saying a word, and Elena—she doesn’t even try to engage. Her silence grates on my nerves. The both of them are sitting there, heads bowed, as if they’re afraid to speak. I won’t tolerate this in my house, atmydining table. This is my domain, and in here, we are supposed to be a family.

I drop my fork onto the plate with a loud clatter, the sound slicing through the silence like a blade. "Tell me what’s going on."

No response. They both sit there, still as statues, as if my words weren’t a direct order. My patience wears thin. I slam my fist onto the table, the sharp crack of it making Marie jump, her wide eyes snapping toward me. Elena gasps, her hand instinctively reaching for Marie’s.

"Tell me. Now." My voice is cold, sharp with the promise of consequences. "One of you better speak, or this won’t end well for either of you."

Sometimes, fear is the only tool that gets results. I don’t like to use it, but it works, and right now, I need answers. Slowly, Elena lifts her head, but she won’t meet my eyes. I can see her hesitance, her fear, but I’ve given her more than enough time to get used to her place here. She knows what I expect.

She glances at Marie, her hand covering hers protectively on the table, and finally speaks. "Marie thinks someone might have been following us on the way to her school this morning," she says in a rush. "But it was her first day. How could they know where we were going or that we’d even leave the house?"

I lean back in my chair, my appetite gone. So, that’s what this is about. Paranoia. Or maybe it’s not. In this world, nothing is ever truly safe. Not for long. These girls are becoming more trouble than I anticipated, but Enzo was clear—there’s money attached to her father’s estate, and I need to stay in this marriage if I want a piece of that. Walking away now would look suspicious, not just to the rest of the mafia families, but to my own men.

Still, Elena’s naivety grates on me. She’s lived in this world her entire life—how could her father not have prepared her better for the dangers that lurk around every corner? No wonder the Russians got to him so easily. If I don’t step up, I’ll be the next one they target, and I can’t afford to be taken down by a couple of scared girls.

I meet Elena’s gaze, my voice dropping into a cold, hard tone. "Elena, anyone can be waiting for you outside this house at any time. They’ll follow you, watch your patterns, waiting for the best moment to grab you."

Her eyes widen in shock, her naivety on full display. "Grab me?"

"Yes." I don’t sugarcoat it. She needs to understand the stakes here. "As your father’s eldest daughter, and now as my wife, you’d be a valuable captive."

Marie, sitting beside her, trembles. Her small voice quivers as she asks, "Someone wants to take my sister?"

I turn my gaze to her, softening just slightly. Marie’s innocent in all this, dragged into a world far darker than she’ll ever be ready for. "Yes, a lot of people."

The tears well up in her eyes, and for a moment, something tugs at the edges of my conscience. I don’t like it when she cries. It stirs something in me, something I’m not used to. "You’re not gonna let that happen, are you, Dimitri? You’re going to protect her, right?"

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