Page 88 of Mafia King's Bride

No, Ana. Don’t go there. Today is just another day, remember?

“Want me to run you a bath?” Dmitri asks, all thoughtful and perfect, making my heart ache in ways I didn’t know it could.

I shake my head, mustering up a smile that feels more like a grimace. “I’ve got it, thanks.”

As soon as the bathroom door closes behind me, my facade crumbles like a sandcastle at high tide. I lean against the cool tile, trying to steady my breathing. This is it. The moment of truth.

I open the medicine cabinet, my hand hovering over the usual suspects—aspirin, face cream, that weird herbal thing Yelena swears by. But that’s not what I’m after. My fingers tremble as they push past the everyday items, searching for the one thing that could change everything.

There, hidden behind a bottle of multivitamins like some dirty little secret, is the pregnancy test. I bought it on a whim—or maybe out of fear—the day I visited Dmitri’s office. It’s been lurking there ever since, a ticking time bomb of potential.

I pull it out, the box feeling impossibly heavy in my hand. For a moment, I just stare at it, this innocent-looking stick that holds the power to rewrite my future.

“No chickening out now,” I mutter, trying to summon some of my usual bravado. “You’re running out of time, Ana.”

I tear open the box, fumbling with the wrapper. It’s just a piece of plastic, for crying out loud. So why does it feel like I’m disarming a bomb?

As I sit on the toilet, test in hand, I can’t help but think about how absurd this all is. Here I am, wife of the most feared man inthe Bratva, about to pee on a stick like some teenager in a high school bathroom. Life has a sick sense of humor sometimes.

I set the test on the counter, refusing to look at it. Now comes the hard part, waiting. Two minutes have never felt so long. I pace the small space, my bare feet slapping against the tile. I bite my nails, a habit I thought I’d kicked years ago.

Finally, when I can’t stand it anymore, I force myself to look. My hand shakes as I pick up the test, squeezing my eyes shut before I can see the result.

Come on, Ana. You’ve faced down mafia bosses. You can handle a little plastic stick.

I open my eyes, and just like that, my world tilts on its axis.

“Fuck,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Fuck, fuck, fucking hell!”

Two lines. Clear as day.

I’m pregnant. With Dmitri’s child.

And I’m supposed to leave tomorrow.

Dmitri’s voice through the door nearly gives me a heart attack. “Ana? You okay in there, my love?”

“Peachy keen!” I call back, my voice only an octave higher than normal. Totally not suspicious at all.

I splash some cold water on my face, trying to erase the evidence of my mini-meltdown. Taking a deep breath, I open the door, ready to win an Oscar for “Most Convincing Everything’s-Fine Performance.”

But the moment I see Dmitri’s face, full of love and concern, my carefully constructed mask shatters. He doesn’t say anything, just cups my face in his hands and kisses me so tenderly, it breaks my heart all over again.

How am I supposed to leave now? How can I tell him he’s going to be a father, only to disappear? It’s like the universe is playing a cosmic joke, and I’m the punchline.

I bury my face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. How am I going to say goodbye?

THIRTY-FOUR

DMITRI

The bouquet of carnations feels heavy in my hand as I stride down the hallway toward Ana’s office. This impromptu visit isn’t my usual style, but being near her workplace, I couldn’t resist. Her smile has become a temptation I find increasingly difficult to deny.

I knock on her door, anticipation building in my chest. Silence. I knock again, harder this time. Still nothing. Strange. I try the handle—locked.

Unease settles in my gut. I call her phone, then send a text when she doesn’t pick up. No response.

“What’s going on?” I mutter, sending another text. Perhaps I should have called beforehand. I’m trying to match Ana’s romantic gestures of the past few days. After her melancholy mood last night, I thought she could use some cheering up.

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