Page 22 of Mafia King's Bride

I give him a coy smile, letting his gaze roam where it pleases. “Of course, Igor.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Dmitri. He’s standing with a woman who’s talking animatedly, but his eyes are trained on me—and on Igor. The way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes narrow… It’s not just annoyance.

It’s jealousy.

I stifle a laugh, letting the thrill of it wash over me. Dmitri Orlov is jealous, and it’s delicious.

“Well, Igor,” I say, batting my lashes. “I’m not very familiar with these people. Could you introduce me to everyone?”

Igor beams, eager to please. “Of course! I know everyone here. Let me show you around.”

As I take his arm, I glance back at Dmitri, meeting his furious gaze head on. If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the spot. But instead, I smile at him—a slow, Cheshire Cat smile.

I win.

EIGHT

DMITRI

Even though it’s been a week, I can’t shake the image of Igor holding Ana’s hand. It’s etched into my mind, like a splinter I can’t dig out. Every detail from that night keeps replaying in my head—her in that emerald dress, her body practically sculpted by the fabric, the way the neckline teased just enough to drive me mad.

I remember how I first saw her that night, walking into the garden like she owned the place. The dress clung to her curves, her cleavage perfectly framed, leaving me hard as a rock just from looking at her. The way she carried herself was infuriatingly captivating, each step drawing every eye in the room, mine included.

I told myself it was nothing. That I didn’t care. After all, I’d thrown that damn party to show her exactly what she was—a trophy. Nothing more. But when I caught one of the men staring at her too long, a possessive anger surged inside me.

Why the hell would I be jealous?

I don’t even like her.

Or so I keep telling myself.

It doesn’t matter, I thought then.She’s just another pawn in a bigger game.

“Sir,” Janet’s voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. “Mrs. Orlov asked for another thirty minutes. She needs time to change.”

Of course she does.I smirk to myself. Ana is likely stalling, dreading going to the event we’ve been invited to. I anticipated this, so I told her we needed to leave an hour earlier than necessary. Even if she drags her feet, we’ll still be on time.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out, seeing a message from Lucia.

Will you bring your wife? You know you don’t have to, right?

I roll my eyes and toss the phone to the far end of the couch, just as I hear the unmistakable click of heels on the hardwood floor.

I turn around, and every thought in my mind evaporates.

Ana stands there, just a few feet away, dressed in a deep red gown that hugs her body in all the right places. The satin fabric shimmers in the light, draping her figure like it was made just for her. Around her neck, a simple diamond necklace glimmers against her skin, but it’s her lips—painted a bold, sultry crimson—that draw my gaze. They look utterly, undeniably kissable.

My breath hitches.Fuck.All the blood in my body seems to rush south as I stare at her, and for the first time, I can’t deny it. I’m attracted to Anastasia Orlov. She’s like a fire, thawing out the ice I’ve kept around my heart for far too long.

She clears her throat, her curt tone snapping me out of my daze. “Are you ready?”

I blink, struggling to pull myself together. “You took your sweet time,” I say, though my voice lacks its usual edge. Her beauty has dulled my sharpness, and that realization grates at me.

I’m in trouble.

She doesn’t bother to respond, just walks past me toward the exit. I can’t help but watch her, the gown flowing with every step, accentuating the curve of her hips. Her ass sways with a rhythm that makes my mouth dry.

I’m starving.For her.

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