Page 35 of Mafia King's Bride

I catch her gaze for a brief moment, and something stirs inside me—something I don’t want to acknowledge. I take a seat across from her, the tension between us almost tangible, and Yelena slides two plates of food in front of us with a grin, oblivious to the charged atmosphere.

“See? This isn’t hard,” she chirps, settling into her own seat with satisfaction.

Ana doesn’t say anything. Neither do I.

We eat in silence, the clink of silverware the only sound in the room. And yet, despite the quiet, my mind keeps drifting to her, watching the way her lips move as she takes a bite, the way her fingers brush against the edge of her plate.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I wasn’t supposed to want her. But I do. And it’s a problem I can’t afford to have.

Because no matter how much I might be drawn to Ana, she’s still Nikolai Petrov’s daughter. And I can never forget that.

Yelena’s shoesclick on the hardwood floor as she strides into my office. I follow her, and the second I sit down at my desk, dropping my bag carelessly onto the table, she’s already spinning around like she owns the place.

“You didn’t have to come with me, you know,” I mutter, leaning back in my chair, eyeing her with mild irritation.

She ignores the tone, planting both hands on my desk with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, but if I’m going to learn how things work, I need to stick with you for a while, right?”

I arch a brow. “And what exactly do you think learning ‘how things work’ entails?”

Yelena plops down in the chair opposite me, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the polished mahogany. “I’ve decided I want to settle down. For good this time. Get a job, make some money—work for you.”

I shake my head before she even finishes her sentence. “You’re not working for me, Yelena. What I do isn’t safe. You went to business school; you can find a job anywhere else that doesn’t come with the possibility of a bullet to the head.”

Her stubbornness kicks in, and she meets my gaze without flinching. “I don’t want to work anywhere else, Dmitri. I know this isn’t a family business, but we’ve been apart for too long. I’ve been running from things that won’t go away until I face them.”

I stare at her, sighing internally as I set my hands on the desk. “If you want to keep living with Ana and me, fine. As long as she agrees. But this,” I gesture to the office, to the world we both know I live in, “isn’t the life for you. I take risks every day. I always have to watch my back. I don’t want that for you.”

Yelena places her hand over mine, squeezing it in that affectionate way she’s always had.

“You know,” she begins, her voice softer, “after I first found out we didn’t share the same mother, I always wondered why you were so nice to me. I’m not your real sister.”

“You are my real sister,” I snap, cutting through her words.

She rolls her eyes, brushing it off. “You know what I mean. You’re the only one who ever cared about me. My mother was always chasing her next boyfriend, and your father was more interested in this life.”

She’s not wrong. But caring about her didn’t come naturally. When my mother died and my father brought Yelena and her mother into our home, it took me a while to feel any sort of attachment. She was just a kid, barely one year old. But over time, it felt like a duty—protecting her, watching out for her. My father made sure I knew the weight of my responsibilities, and looking after her became one of them.

“I know you’re more worried than ever because of what happened two years ago,” she continues, her voice barely a whisper now. “But I’m fine, Dmitri. I’ve been going to therapy, working through it. It took time, but I’m getting over him.”

I search her eyes, looking for cracks in her armor. Yelena has always been able to hide behind that smile, lighting up the roomwith her laughter while keeping her pain buried. But I know better.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice uncharacteristically gentle. I’m not used to this—showing concern. But I can’t help it with her. I remember the wreck she was a year ago, pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

Her lip quivers slightly, but she keeps it together. “I fell in love with a man who used me. In every way possible. It takes time to heal from that, especially when I almost married him. But I’m okay now. I promise.”

I nod slowly, though doubt lingers in the back of my mind. If I don’t believe her, it means I don’t trust she’s healing. And what kind of brother would that make me?

“Alright,” I concede, watching her eyes light up in victory. “But I’m not letting you near the dangerous stuff. You’ll handle the accounting, maybe review some of the business ideas I’ve been working on. That’s it.”

Her grin is instantaneous. “That’s more than enough! When do I start?”

I glance at the clock. “I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. How about right now?”

“Works for me,” she chirps, then pauses. “There’s just one more thing, Dmitri.”

I raise a brow, pausing as I reach for a document. Her tone shifts, and for the first time since she entered my office, there’s seriousness in her eyes.

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