Page 83 of Mafia King's Bride

But I can see that Papa’s rage has blinded him. It’s doubtful Dmitri will fall for his ruse, whether I play a part or not. If Papa tries to kill him, Dmitri won’t spare his life. And if there’s even a small chance Papa succeeds, I could lose the man I love. I’ll lose Papa too because Dmitri’s people will come after him.

Either way, I’m caught in the middle of a war I never wanted to fight. A war that will never end.

Some days, I really wish I’d just become a librarian or something. At least then, the only thing I’d have to worry about is late fees.

I take a deep breath, trying to appeal to whatever shred of fatherly love might be left in him. “I’m happy,” I plead, feeling like I’m talking to a brick wall. “Can’t you see that I’m happy withhow things have turned out? Why can’t you just let sleeping dogs lie?”

But the look in his eyes is pure venom. If hatred could be bottled, his would be top shelf. “I was insulted,” he spits. “My dignity and self-esteem were stripped from me. I’m not going to take that lying down.”

I gulp hard, feeling like I’m trying to swallow a golf ball. “It’s me asking you to back off. What if you had me back? Wouldn’t that make everything whole again?”

He scoffs. “He’s never going to give you up.”

“I’ll run away,” I blurt out, grasping at straws.

His brows furrow like I’ve just suggested we all become circus clowns. “What good will that do?”

I throw my hands in the air, feeling like I’m in some twisted version of a negotiation show. I don’t know what running away will actually accomplish, but I’m desperate for a solution that doesn’t end with either of them six feet under.

If only Papa could let go of his pride, we could all move on. But no, his ego’s in the driver’s seat, just like before.

An idea pops into my head. It’s not great, but it’s all I’ve got. “I want you to know that I’m not doing this because of you,” I say, my voice firm. “I don’t think I can summon any love for you right now. Or anytime soon, for that matter.”

“You’ll thank me one day,” he says.

Yeah, I’ll thank him the same day pigs fly and hell freezes over. “When Dmitri and I married, he used it to gain respect and expand his territory. People thought our families were working together. It benefited him.”

Papa sniggers. “Well, that makes one of us.”

I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “As you’ve said, he won’t let me go. But if I run away, you can blame him for it. Act like he’s committed some unforgivable sin. Spread rumors that a rival kidnapped me. But for heaven’s sake, let it end there.”

He purses his lips, considering. My heart’s pounding so hard, I’m surprised it hasn’t burst out of my chest. The thought of life without Dmitri—the man I’ve grown to love, who’d set the world on fire to keep me safe—it’s almost unbearable.

“Fine,” he says finally, reluctantly. “It’ll keep him distracted. While he’s occupied, I’ll take what I want.”

I feel sick to my stomach. This isn’t my father anymore. This is a stranger wearing his face. “I’m not doing this so you can finish what you started months ago,” I say, my voice hard. “If you go back on your word, I’ll go straight back to Dmitri.”

His eyes darken. “Never. I won’t see you married to that bastard.”

“Then stop going after him,” I counter. “My disappearance and the enemies he’ll make looking for me, that’s enough to weaken him.”

The grin that spreads across his face makes me want to shower for a week. I can barely stand to be in the same room with him anymore.

“We have a deal?” I hiss through gritted teeth.

“When are you leaving?”

“One week,” I say, already feeling the weight of what I’m about to do. “I need time to act normal so he doesn’t suspect anything.”

“You’ve got one week,” he agrees.

As I walk out of his office, my legs feel like lead. One week. Seven days to dismantle the life I’ve pieced together, to say goodbye to the man who’s become my world. All to save two stubborn men hell-bent on destroying each other. If this were a soap opera, I’d be the tragic heroine, sacrificing everything for love. But this is real life, and I’m just me, caught in a tug-of-war between the family I was born into and the one I’ve chosen.

But hey, who needs a boring nine-to-five when you can play human shield in the world’s most dysfunctional game of Bratva chess?

As soon asI close the door, I let the tears flow. They rain down my cheeks, carrying my grief and spreading it to other parts of my body.

“Anastasia?” Daria hurries over when she notices me, pulling my trembling body into her arms. “What’s going on?”

---