Page 87 of Mafia King's Bride

I clear my throat, trying to get Viktor and Yelena’s attention over the clinking of cutlery in the museum’s restaurant. I’ve dragged them here under false pretenses because, let’s face it, if I’d told them the truth, at least one of them would’ve run for the hills faster than you can say “family drama.”

This is it. My last hurrah with the two people who matter most to me, besides Dmitri. God, just thinking about him makes my heart do a little tap dance of misery.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” I say, taking a sip of liquid courage. “Viktor, you like Yelena, don’t you?”

My brother’s poker face is about as convincing as a kid with chocolate all over their fingers swearing they didn’t touch the cake.

“You’re a meddler if there ever was one,” he grumbles.

I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. “What can I say? I’m just trying to spread a little happiness before—” I catch myself. “I mean, you two deserve it.”

I hold up my hands, trying to look innocent. “Look, I’m not trying to play Cupid here. I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”

Yelena shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Ana, I don’t think?—”

“No, no,” I cut her off, standing up abruptly. “You two clearly have some things to discuss. I’ll leave you to it.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “And where are you off to in such a hurry?”

I force a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as hollow as it feels. “Oh, you know me. Can’t resist the allure of some dusty old bones. There’s a fascinating exhibit on extinct mammals I’ve been dying to see.”

Yelena looks skeptical. “Since when are you interested in paleontology?”

“Hey, people change,” I say, backing away from the table. “Maybe I’ll discover a hidden passion for fossils. Who knows? Life’s full of surprises.”

As I turn to leave, I catch a glimpse of their confused expressions. I throw them a wink over my shoulder, trying to keep up the charade.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I call back, my voice only wavering slightly.

As soon as I’m out of their sight, I lean against a wall, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Pull it together, Ana,” I mutter to myself. “You’ve got this.”

But even as I say it, I’m not sure I believe it.

As I wander through the museum, I think about the last few days. The picnic with Dmitri, shopping with Yelena, wine tasting with Viktor. My little bucket list of memories to hold onto when…

No. Don’t think about it.

I blink back tears, nearly colliding with a display case. A nearby tourist gives me a concerned look, and I force a smile. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, dammit. This is my duty.

When I return to the restaurant, Viktor and Yelena are sitting closer, a tentative hand on an arm. Progress. My heart clenches, knowing that soon Yelena won’t want to confide in me about this.

I end up in a butterfly garden, staring at a case full of delicate creatures. A man nearby starts spieling facts about how butterflies need to warm up in the sun before they can fly.

“Sometimes,” he says, “you meet the most cold-blooded soul, but when you get to know them better, you see that all they needed was a little sun to bring out their beauty.”

My mind immediately goes to Dmitri. My terrifying, ruthless, surprisingly soft-hearted husband. The man I thought I’d hate forever, until I fell head over heels for him.

I focus on a butterfly with dark wings, wishing I could take it with me. A little reminder of the man who’d burn the world down to keep me safe. The man I’m about to leave behind.

As I stand there, surrounded by fragile beauty, the weight of what I’m about to do hits me all over again. I’m not just leaving; I’m shattering the life we’ve built. But if it keeps the people I love safe...well, that’s just the price of being an Orlov, isn’t it?

God, I could really use a drink right now. Or ten.

I stumble into our bedroom,feeling like I’m walking to the gallows instead of coming home. Dmitri’s there, his face lighting up. Before I can even manage a “hello,” he’s swept me into his arms.

“Have I ever told you I never get tired of kissing you?” he murmurs, his fingers finding the zipper of my dress. “That I won’t ever stop?”

His lips brush against my back as the dress falls away, and I shiver. It’s not just the chill of the air, it’s the bittersweet realization that this might be one of our last moments together.

---