Page 24 of Mafia King's Bride

“I know you don’t want a scene,” she purrs. “I’d hate to cause one.”

“You’re walking a fine line, Lucia,” I warn, my patience wearing thin. “This isn’t the time or the place for your games.”

She taps her chin thoughtfully, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “What if I told you that your wife seems already… occupied?”

That catches my attention. I scan the room, trying to find Ana, but she’s nowhere in sight. Lucia, ever the snake, points toward the far end of the room, where a large potted fern obscures part of the seating area.

“Over there,” she says, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “Looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

I follow her gaze and spot Ana, lounging on a plush couch, surrounded by three men. One leans in, whispering something in her ear that makes her toss her head back and laugh, carefree and radiant. Her hair has come loose, spilling over her shoulders, and for a moment, I’m frozen, watching her like a predator stalking his prey.

My fists clench at my sides, a cold rage building inside me.

How dare they?

Lucia leans in again, her voice dripping with venom. “Seems like she’s getting all the attention tonight. Maybe you should take a lesson from her—learn to unwind a little.”

Her touch crawls up my arm again, and I brush it off with more force this time, my eyes never leaving Ana.

“They’re vultures,” I mutter, the words coming out like a growl. “Circling what’s mine.”

Lucia gasps dramatically, as if she’s discovered something groundbreaking. “You’re jealous!”

I glare at her, but it only makes her grin wider.

“I didn’t think you were the jealous type, Dmitri,” she teases. “Are you sure you’re not in love with her?”

Love?

The idea is laughable, but something dark and twisted uncoils inside me at the thought. Love has no place in my world, yet the idea of someone else laying a hand on Ana sends me into a cold fury I can barely contain.

Lucia steps in front of me, forcing me to tear my gaze away from Ana. “This isn’t like you,” she presses. “When we were together, you didn’t care. You cut me off like I never meant anything. But it’s different with her.”

I hate that she’s right. I hate that I care.

I shove past her, walking briskly toward the exit, needing to put some distance between myself and the party, between myself and Ana. My mind is swirling with conflicting emotions—rage, jealousy, desire—and I need a moment to clear my head.

As I step out onto the balcony, the cold night air hits me, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. But before I can find any peace, I hear voices.

“—she’s fine as hell,” one man says, his tone lecherous. “Dmitri’s a lucky bastard.”

The other man chuckles. “Yeah, but you know it’s not a marriage of love. She’s probably dying to get away from him.”

“I wouldn’t mind stealing her away for a night or two,” the first one says, his voice thick with lust. “She looks like the kind of woman who’d be a hell of a time in bed.”

“And those lips,” the second one adds, snickering. “Imagine having them?—”

I step out of the shadows, my voice colder than the night air. “Imagine having them where?”

Both men freeze, their eyes wide with terror as they realize who stands before them.

“Dmitri,” one stammers, his face draining of color. “We didn’t mean?—”

“You didn’t mean what?” I step closer, towering over them. “Didn’t mean to talk about my wife like a couple of fucking degenerates?”

The second man, the one with the loose mouth, tries to backtrack. “We were just talking. It wasn’t serious.”

“Not serious?” I repeat, my voice dripping with menace. “It sounded pretty fucking serious to me.”

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