Page 40 of Mafia King's Bride

DMITRI

I wake slowly, blinking against the sunlight spilling through the window. I can feel warmth on my face, the rare sensation of peace wrapped around me. That’s unusual, considering I barely sleep more than five hours on a good night. The weight of endless responsibilities usually keeps me half-awake, always vigilant. But this morning feels different.

Something shifts in the bed beside me.

I turn my head, and there she is. Ana.

I freeze.

What is she doing here?

And then it hits me—last night. The memories come flooding back as I glance around the room, seeing the telltale signs. The way we tangled together, the heat between us as she clung to me, the feel of her skin under my hands. We fucked, and I let myself fall asleep with her in my arms.

I shouldn’t have.

I should’ve walked away, should’ve left the room before things got messy. But instead, I stayed, and now I’m lying here like a damn fool, watching her sleep.

I try to reason with myself, to dismiss the strange pull in my chest.Who am I kidding?

My eyes linger on her face, the peaceful rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, her eyelashes fluttering softly against her cheeks. Anastasia Orlov,my wife, lying next to me like she belongs there.

My hand moves almost on instinct, fingers itching to touch her, to trace the curve of her cheek. But I stop myself just inches away. If I touch her, if I give in to that urge, it’ll break the spell. And I know as well as anyone that the moment the spell breaks, we go back to what we were—strangers under the same roof, a marriage built on business interest and revenge.

This thing between us won’t last. Itcan’tlast.

I swallow hard, trying to bury the gnawing feeling inside me, but it’s there, persistent and irritating.

Her eyelids flutter open, and I can see the confusion in her gaze as it lands on me. She gasps and rolls off the bed, hitting the floor with a loudthud.

“Ouch!” she yelps, cradling her knee.

Without thinking, I’m off the bed in a second, crouching down beside her. “What the hell was that?” I laugh, even as something tugs at me.

She lets out a girlish giggle but quickly catches herself, waving it off with a flick of her hand as a frown erases the glimmer of playfulness. "Forget it. I’m fine."

I stand. I start to reach out to help her up, but she holds out a hand, stopping me. “Can you give me some space, please?”

There it is.The pushback.

I feel the cold wash of rejection settle over me, and I know it’s coming. She’s pulling away already, setting the boundary between us. But still, I perch on the edge of the bed, watching her, waiting for her to say what I know is coming.

It would be smarter to walk out, save myself from hearing it. I know exactly what she’s going to say. And yet, a part of me—some weak, foolish part—waits.

Ana sighs, closing her eyes as if steeling herself. “Thank you for being there for me. But what happened,” she hesitates, “it was a mistake. We both know that. It would be silly to think otherwise. Right?”

“Right,” I say, my voice flat, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

I shouldn’t feel this way. My chest shouldn’t ache like this.

I stand abruptly, the weight of her words settling over me like a cold, heavy blanket. “I should go. I’ll see you later.”

As I make my way toward the door, her voice stops me in my tracks.

“Dmitri?” she calls my name softly, and something in me stirs, like a flicker of warmth in the icy distance. I turn my head slightly, just enough to hear her. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

A spark.

But it fades just as quickly as it came, snuffed out by the sound of her footsteps retreating toward the bathroom. I stand there for a moment, feeling the emptiness return, then head back to my room.

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