Page 51 of Mafia King's Bride

For a second, it looks like he is about to ask me to stay, like maybe this could still turn into more. But he just nods, his face as unreadable as ever. “Alright. Have a good night.”

As I turn to head up the stairs, I’m hyper-aware of his presence behind me. Every step feels heavier, like I’m dragging my feet through quicksand. I could turn around, ask him to kiss me, or just do it myself. But I don’t. I keep walking, feeling this huge weight of regret building inside me.

At the door to my room, I hesitate for a second, my hand on the handle. It would be so easy to go back down and bridge this maddening gap between us. But I push the door open and step inside, closing it softly behind me.

And just like that, the moment is gone. The night feels long and endless, and I have a sinking feeling that sleep won’t come easy.

I should’ve said something. But instead, I’m left with this hollow feeling in my chest and the thought that tomorrow, everything will go back to normal. Whatever normal even is with us.

I lean against the door, sighing. Yeah, it’s going to be a long night.

EIGHTEEN

DMITRI

“Have I ever told you that I like this new you?” Yelena’s voice drips with amusement as she lounges on the sofa in the corner of my office. Her legs are crossed, a playful pout on her lips. “Everyone says it’s impossible to change a man set in his ways, but Ana’s a magician.”

I stare at the bouquet sitting on my desk, my eyes narrowing. “How?”

Yelena uncrosses her legs, strolling over to my desk with her usual air of confidence. She pulls out the chair across from me and sits down, her gaze fixed on the flowers. “Did you pick these out yourself?” she asks, her tone teasing.

“I didn’t,” I reply bluntly. “I had Jakob take care of it.”

Her eyes flicker with amusement, and I can sense she’s about to crack a joke. I scowl, my patience already running thin. “What’s your point, Yelena?”

She gives me a shrug, but there’s a glint of mischief in her expression that makes my jaw tighten. Finally, she relents with a smirk. “It’s nothing, really. Just… I’ve never seen you buy flowers for anyone. Not even me.” She lifts the bouquet slightly. “And you got her red and white carnations.”

I frown, not seeing the point. “And?”

Yelena raises an eyebrow. “You do know red carnations symbolize deep love and admiration, right?”

My lips part in surprise. “Deep love?” I scoff, more irritated than amused by her little revelation. “I didn’t choose them. You’re the one who insisted I send her flowers in the first place. What are you trying to get at?”

She bursts into laughter, doubling over at the look on my face. My temper flares, the sharp edge of annoyance cutting through me.

“There’s nothing funny about this,” I snap.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she gasps, still struggling to contain her giggles. “It’s just...the irony. You, stone-cold Dmitri Orlov, sending flowers that screamloveto your wife. It’s poetic.”

I glare at her, but the image of Ana from last night creeps into my mind uninvited. The way she looked at me, her eyes soft, like she was waiting for me to make a move. A move I didn’t—couldn’t—make.

“Should I have done something?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

Yelena perks up. “What was that?”

I shake my head, dismissing the thought. “Nothing,” I mutter, annoyed with myself for even thinking it.

The truth is, Ana lingers in my mind far more than I’m willing to admit. There’s something about her, pulling at me in ways I don’t want to acknowledge. But acting on those feelings would only lead to my downfall.

“Yelena?” I turn to her, my voice clipped.

“Yup?”

“Get rid of these,” I say, nodding to the flowers. “Get some roses. They’re more common.”

Yelena clicks her tongue, exasperated. “So, you’ve changed your mind?”

“It wasn’t my idea in the first place,” I respond flatly.

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