Page 35 of Breaking the Annulment

Carmen’s brow arched slightly, her smile kind but edged with something probing. “You seem very close,” she remarked. “It’s obvious he cares for you deeply.”

Aurelia felt the heat rising to her cheeks. “Michalis is…complicated,” she said carefully. She shifted the baby in her arms, avoiding Carmen’s eyes. “But he’s protective, yes.”

“That kind of protectiveness can be…overwhelming,” Carmen said, her words casual but her tone sharp enough to slice through Aurelia’s defenses. “Some women find it stifling.”

Aurelia stiffened, her grip on the baby tightening slightly. “Michalis has always made my safety a priority,” she said, her voice firm. “It’s not stifling. It’s…” She hesitated, searching for the right word. “Reassuring.”

Carmen tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint smile. “That’s good to hear. Not all women would feel the same.”

Aurelia looked up, meeting Carmen’s gaze head-on. There was no mistaking the curiosity—and perhaps suspicion—in her expression. She wasn’t just making conversation; she was digging, testing, waiting for Aurelia to falter. How much did she know about their relationship?

“I suppose it depends on the woman,” Aurelia said coolly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m not afraid of him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Carmen blinked, her expression smoothing into something more neutral. “Of course not,” she said quickly. “I only meant that it’s clear he’s very…intense about you.”

“He’s my husband,” Aurelia replied simply, her words carrying a possessive undertone she hadn’t anticipated. “It’s natural for him to care.”

For a brief moment, the two women locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. Carmen leaned backslightly, her gaze softening. “You’re right,” she said. “It is natural, especially in our world.”

The baby stirred then, letting out a soft coo that broke the tension. Aurelia looked down, her heart twisting at the sight of his tiny, peaceful face. The longing she’d felt earlier returned, sharper this time. What would a baby with Michalis look like?

The door shutbehind them with a heavy click, sealing Michalis and Antonio in the dimly lit private lounge. Antonio strode to the bar, his movements deliberate as he poured two glasses of whiskey. His restaurant, his ground, his rules—his body language made that abundantly clear.

He held out one of the glasses to Michalis, who accepted it after a beat of hesitation. The tension between them was palpable, a low hum of distrust that lingered from their last encounter—a confrontation that had nearly ended in bloodshed.

Antonio leaned casually against the bar, his dark eyes sharp. “Well, Michalis,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with steel. “I’ve met your wife.”

Michalis stood rooted, his posture rigid but composed, his icy gaze unwavering. “And?”

Antonio tilted his head, as though weighing his next words carefully. “She seems…content,” he said finally. “Happy, even. I don’t know what your arrangement is, but I’ll admit—it doesn’t look like she’s being held against her will.”

A flicker of satisfaction passed through Michalis’s expression. He took a sip of his whiskey, setting the glass down with a deliberate clink. “Good,” he said. “Then we’re done here.”

“Not quite.” Antonio’s voice was quiet, but it carried authority. He stepped forward, closing the distance betweenthem. “Carmen is still with her. Depending on what she has to say after this little chat of theirs, I’ll decide if I agree to what you’re asking.”

Michalis’s expression darkened, the air around him shifting like the calm before a storm. He took a step closer to Antonio, his broad shoulders squaring as the tension ratcheted up. “Regardless of what your sister says, Aurelia isn’t going anywhere. She’s my wife, and that’s the end of it.”

Antonio didn’t flinch. If anything, his smirk deepened, a sharp edge glinting in his gaze. “Your confidence is admirable,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “But let me remind you of something, Michalis. Seven years ago, it wasmy menwho got caught in the crossfire of whatever mess you were cleaning up. I buried friends because of it. If anyone owes anyone here, it’s you.”

Michalis’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. The unspoken history between them hung heavy in the air, an open wound neither was willing to ease. “And you think handing my wife over to that bastard Khomenko evens the scales?” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Because that’s not happening. Not now. Not ever.”

Antonio regarded him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “If she decides she doesn’t want anything to do with Khomenko, fine. I’ll help you bury him,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “But you can’t keep her in the dark forever, Michalis. If she finds out who he is—whoyouare—on her own, it’ll blow up in your face. And if that happens, don’t come crying to me.”

Michalis scoffed, but he said nothing, his silence a clear sign he wasn’t willing to concede the point.

After a moment, Antonio’s demeanor shifted, the tension between them easing ever so slightly. He took another sip ofhis whiskey before speaking again. “Look,” he said, setting the glass down. “We’re both dealing with the same problem here. Khomenko’s people have been sniffing around my operations, too. I started digging, and in the process, I found something you might want to know.”

Michalis’s eyes narrowed, his focus sharpening. “What is it?”

Antonio didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he walked to a small safe hidden behind a sleek cabinet. He keyed in the combination, withdrawing a thin folder. “A little birdie told me something interesting about your wife’s sudden reappearance,” he said, tossing the folder onto the table between them.

Michalis stared at it but didn’t move. “I’m listening.”

Antonio leaned against the table, his tone casual but deliberate. “Someone got her that fundraiser ticket, right? Slipped it into her hands, past all your security? I don’t know how much you’ve pieced together, but I found out who it was.”

Michalis’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

“One of my informants recognized the man,” Antonio continued. “Name’s Petros. He’s small-time but resourceful. Real slippery. My people picked him up yesterday, and they’re delivering him to your estate this evening.”

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