Page 29 of Mafia King's Bride

Yelena is already racing through the door before I manage to intervene, passing Janet in the doorway. The only thing I can do is stare at the scene, wondering what’ll happen when the two finally meet and I’m not the one making an introduction.

But I’m met with a surprise. My stepsister has her arms around Ana, who looks polished and pulled together in her work clothes.

But that’s not all.

Ana, who’s never once shown any expression other than anger or displeasure toward me, has the biggest smile on her face as she’s hugging Yelena back.

“Oh, it’s so good to meet you finally,” I hear Yelena say as she pulls away and cups Ana’s cheek. “I knew the pictures I saw didn’t do you justice.”

“Mr. Orlov,” Janet is the first person to notice my presence, and three pairs of eyes turn to me where I stand. “Welcome home.”

Yelena rushes over to me, dragging Ana along. “How did you get this sweet, beautiful woman to marry you?” Her tone sounds more like an interrogation than a question, and she stares at me like she’s waiting for a confession.

I glance at Ana.

Should I tell her about your father?”

“I’m not always sweet.” She laughs, picking up on my hint.

“Nonsense,” Yelena disagrees. “You’ve the cutest look on your face, and you let me hug you before I even introduced myself. You’re a gem. My brother, on the other hand,” she says, giving me a side glance, “is allergic to people.”

“Janet,” I divert my attention to the housekeeper, handing her my coat and bag, before Yelena goes on to embarrass me further, “here.”

“Yelena, Janet will show you to your room. If,” I glance at Ana for a second, “it’s alright with you that she stays with us for a while.”

Ana smiles, and I freeze momentarily, taken aback by the change in her facial expression. I know she’s smiling because I mentioned Yelena’s name, but the fact that it’s aimed at me stirs up something in my heart.

No.

Nope. We’re done with the feelings.

It ended after the party, where I almost assaulted two men because they were talking shit about her.

“I’ll turn in for the night,” I announce. “See you in the morning.”

“Oh no, you won’t.” Yelena quickly blocks my path, shaking her head. “You just came home from work, and your wife arrived mere minutes before you. Aren’t we having dinner?”

Dinner?

The same look of surprise that’s on my face is mirrored on Ana’s. Yelena doesn’t seem to notice the reactions, though, because she turns to Janet.

“Is there anything to eat?”

Even the housekeeper, who’s never served husband and wife dinner since we got married, is flustered. She scratches her head.

“Ah, no, ma’am. They don’t . . . I mean dinner isn’t?—”

I clear my throat loudly. “It’s been a long day, Yelena, and I’m sure you’re jet-lagged. We’ll have breakfast together tomorrow.”

But she doesn’t give up. Grabbing Ana’s arm again, Yelena asks, “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Ana nods and side-eyes me. “Y—yeah?”

“Good!” Yelena says loudly. “And I’m hungry too. It’s two to one, Dmitri.” She lifts two fingers. “You’re eating with us whether you want to or not.”

Forty minutes later, Ana, Yelena, and I sit around the dining table eating baked chicken Parmesan that Janet quickly assembled.

Ana is sitting beside me, and I’m all too aware of her presence. I can smell her perfume as it wafts through the air, settling around me like a warm caress.

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