Page 5 of Mafia King's Bride

Janet’s expression shifts, a slight crease forming between her brows. “Mrs. Orlov hasn’t left her room all day, sir. I tried taking her meals up, but she refused them.”

My frown deepens. “She hasn’t eaten since I left?”

“Not since last night,” she clarifies gently.

That’s almost twenty-four hours. What is she playing at? Is this some kind of childish rebellion? Starving herself to make it look like I’m some monster who locks his wife away without food? I rub my temples, trying to shake the irritation bubbling beneath my skin.

“Take a plate to her room.”

Janet hesitates, her lips parting as if to protest. “I’ve tried, sir. She wouldn’t answer the door.”

“Try again,” I snap, my patience wearing thin. “Do as I say.”

Without waiting for her response, I continue up the stairs, my steps heavy with frustration. This ends now. If she thinks she can pull some stunt to make me look like a villain, she’s sorely mistaken. She’s lucky I don’t demand more from her—she could be working for me, earning her keep, but instead, she does nothing but sit around all day.

I stop in front of her door and make a fist, knocking firmly.

No answer.

I knock again, harder this time. “Ana. I need to talk to you.”

Silence.

Panic flickers in the back of my mind, unwelcome and ridiculous. Has she fainted? Is she lying unconscious behind that door? I press my ear to the wood, listening for any sound, any indication that she’s in there. My heart picks up its pace.

“Ana, answer me.” My voice is sharper now, tinged with an edge I rarely show. “Ana!”

Still nothing.

Without thinking, I brace myself, ready to kick the door in if necessary. My foot is poised when the door suddenly creaks open. I stumble slightly, surprised, and straighten, clearing my throat to mask the moment of weakness.

She stands in the doorway, her appearance disheveled and raw. Her dark hair falls in tangled curls around her face, her eyes rimmed with smudged black makeup, and her lower lip is swollen like she’s been biting it all day. For a split second, I’m hit with an image I shouldn’t be thinking of—a post-coital haze that lingers after a night of passion. The thought catches me off guard, and I shake it off.

“What?” she asks, her voice flat, emotionless.

I stare at her, trying to remember why I’m here. Her appearance has thrown me off, but I quickly recover. I narrowmy eyes, my voice cold and clipped. “Janet told me you haven’t eaten all day.”

She shrugs, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. “Is that a problem?”

A problem? The sheer audacity of her words leaves me momentarily speechless. Is this a game to her?

“If you don’t eat, you’ll get sick,” I say, my tone hardening. “I won’t have you playing these tricks.”

She cuts me off before I can finish. “Tricks? You think I’m doing this to get back at you for threatening to kill my father?”

The bluntness of her words knocks the air out of me. For a second, I don’t respond. She knows exactly what I’m capable of, and she’s daring to challenge me.

I step closer, and when I see the flicker of fear cross her face, I stop short. “Would you rather I expose your father’s betrayal to the world? Do you know what happens to traitors in our world,kotyonok?” My voice drops, laced with danger.

Her chin lifts defiantly, her eyes burning with hatred. “First off, I’m not your kitten,” she snaps. “And yes, I know what happens. But you act like you’re any better. You’re feared, Dmitri, but not respected. You don’t inspire loyalty—you inspire terror. And there’s a difference.”

Her words are sharp. Alexey’s taunts from earlier echo in my mind:What other choice do I have?

I close the distance between us in one swift motion, my hand shooting out to grab her chin. My fingers grip her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Don’t push me, Ana,” I say quietly, my voice dark and dangerous. “Your father betrayed mine—betrayed my family. He tried to take what was mine before my father’s body was even cold. Be thankful I didn’t end him right there.”

Her eyes widen, and I see another flicker of fear flash across her face. For a moment, I think I’ve broken through herdefiance. But then she composes herself, forcing her features into a mask of calm.

“And what guarantee do I have that you won’t betray me?” Her voice is low, almost a whisper. “You’re not a man to trust, Dmitri. You’re a man to fear.”

---