Page 13 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

“I’m not dragging her anywhere,” I say, my voice cold and precise. I straighten the cuff of my shirt, a small gesture of control. “I’m offering a solution to her problem.”

Anton shifts in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. He studies me for a long moment, reading between the lines like he’s always done. “And what do you get out of it?” His question hangs in the air between us, probing at motivations I’m not ready to examine.

I turn toward the door, my hand already on the polished handle. “Get some rest,” I say, effectively ending the conversation. The command carries no room for argument, even from him.

Outside Anton’s room, my driver, Viktor, waits for me, his massive frame making the hospital corridor seem smaller. The blaring fluorescent lights send harsh shadows across his scarred face as he falls into step beside me, his footsteps nearly silent despite his size.

“Nikolai’s in Moscow,” he says quietly, his voice barely carrying beyond the space between us. He glances at a passing nurse before continuing. “Our mole claims it’s for business, but we’ll keep tabs. Dimitrov has eyes on him at Sheremetyevo.” With my usual second out of commission, Viktor has stepped up to handle some of Anton’s tasks in addition to driving and being my personal bodyguard.

I nod, my expression revealing nothing. “How convenient for him.” The tile floor gleams under the harsh lighting as we walk toward the exit. We both know the truth. The coward left Philadelphia to distance himself from the federal investigation threatening to dismantle everything I’ve built over the last decade.

“Should we send someone?” he asks, holding the door open.

“No. Let him think we believe his little alibi. For now, we watch and wait.”

“Good.”

We exit through a side door, avoiding the main entrance where press might be lurking. The afternoon sun is bright, the air crisp with early autumn. My car waits at the curb, and Viktor moves ahead to open the door for me.

That’s when I see her.

Elena walks across the parking lot, still wearing scrubs. She moves with purpose, head down, lost in thought. She doesn’t notice the man following her until he grabs her arm.

I recognize him immediately as Justin, the second-ranked student in her class. I’ve seen him watching her during rounds, his gaze following her with both resentment and desire. Now he has her wrist in his grip, his face too close to hers.

“Let go of me,” says Elena, her voice carrying across the lot.

“Come on, Elena. One drink. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I said no.”

Justin’s grip tightens. “You think you’re too good for everyone, don’t you? Top of the class and Dr. Patel’s favorite.”

“This has nothing to do with?—”

“I know about your money problems,” he says, smirking. “Everyone does. Maybe I can help you out… for a little quid pro quo.”

Something cold and hard settles in my stomach. I move before I fully register the decision to do so.

“Boss…” Viktor begins, but I’m already crossing the lot.

Justin doesn’t see me coming. One second, he’s standing, gripping Elena’s wrist and smirking like he’s owed something. The next, he’s on the ground, spitting blood. My knuckles sting from the impact.

Elena gawks at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Fear and recognition flicker in her eyes. “Mr. Antonov,” she says, her voice steady despite her obvious shock.

Justin scrambles to his feet, trickling blood from his split lip. “What the fuck? Who the hell are you?”

I turn to him slowly. “Someone you don’t want to know.”

He looks between Elena and me, understanding dawning on his face. “Jesus, Clarke. You’re fucking this old guy? Is that how you’re planning to pay your tuition?”

I step toward him, and he backs away, hands raised.

“Okay, okay. She’s all yours, man.”

He retreats, throwing one last venomous look at Elena before hurrying away. I turn back to her, noting the flush of anger on her cheeks, and the way her bag has slipped off her shoulder in the scuffle.

That’s when I see the edge of an envelope sticking out of her bag. The university letterhead is visible, along with the bold red words: FINAL NOTICE.

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