Page 7 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

“Financial troubles?” I ask.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Her chin lifts slightly, pride evident in her posture.

I admire that. Too many people in this world look for handouts. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You seem resourceful.”

Our gazes lock, and for a moment, the room disappears. There’s something magnetic between us, a pull I haven’t experienced before. She feels it too. I can tell by the way her pupils dilate and how her breathing changes subtly.

The door opens, breaking the moment. A young man with sandy brown hair and an expensive watch pokes his head in. “Elena, Dr. Patel is looking for you. Something about the Abernathy case.”

She nods quickly, relief and disappointment warring in her expression. “I’ll be right there, Justin.” She turns to me with a polite smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Nice to officially meet you, Mr. Antonov. Excuse me.”

She slips past me, brushing her arm against mine. The brief contact sends an unexpected jolt through my body. I watch her walk away, noting the graceful efficiency of her movements even in retreat.

“She’s good,” mutters Anton, shifting his injured arm after Elena leaves the room. “Pretty, too.”

I say nothing, my gaze still on the doorway through which she disappeared.

Anton exhales. “You’re thinking about her.”

I turn to face him, my expression neutral. “What makes you say that?”

“I know that look.” He adjusts himself against the pillows, wincing slightly. “You’ve had it since you first saw her.”

I move to the window, looking out at the city below. The hospital is on the tenth floor, offering a decent view of the skyline. “How’s the pain today?”

“Changing the subject won’t make me forget what I saw.” Anton’s voice carries a hint of amusement. “She’s different from your usual type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“Exactly. You don’t do relationships. Never much before and not at all since Nikolai’s betrayal.”

The name sends ice through my veins. Nikolai. My former best friend. The man who put a bullet in Anton’s shoulder and nearly killed him. He sold me out and nearly got me arrested. He’s the man I plan to destroy.

I should be focusing on him and on dismantling his operation piece by piece until there’s nothing left. Instead, I’m distracted by a medical student with warm brown eyes and a stubborn streak.

“The doctor says you’ll make a full recovery,” I say, deliberately changing the subject.

Anton allows it this time. “Thanks to you getting me here so quickly, and thanks to Elena’s care.”

I turn back to face him. “Has she mentioned anything about financial problems before?”

“No.” Anton’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Just what she said.” I walk back to his bedside. “I want you to find out everything about her.”

“Already on it.” Anton smirks at my surprised expression. “I saw how you looked at her two weeks ago. I had one of our guys run a basic background check.”

I smile a little. “And?”

“Elena Clarke is twenty-five. Final-year medical student. Mother died when she was nineteen, and the father’s not in the picture. Hasn’t been since she was four. She was on track to graduate top of her class until recently. Seems she’s hit some financial trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Not sure yet, but she’s got less than forty-eight hours to come up with nearly twenty grand for tuition, or she’s out.”

I process this information, turning it over in my mind. “Interesting.”

“Damir.” Anton’s voice takes on a warning tone. “What are you thinking?”

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