Page 25 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

I want to argue further, but the reality of my new situation hits me. This is part of the deal—part of being married to a man like Damir Antonov. My independence is the price I’m paying for financial security. “Fine,” I concede, “but you both need to be discreet. I can’t have you hovering while I’m treating patients.”

“We know how to do our jobs,” says Valeriya, a hint of offense in her tone.

The ride to the hospital is silent. I stare out the window of the sleek black SUV, watching the city pass by. It feels strange to be driven, to have people waiting on me, protecting me. Strange and uncomfortable.

At the hospital, Valeriya walks a few paces behind me as I enter through the staff entrance. She’s dressed in plain clothes, dark jeans and a fitted jacket, but her alertness and the way she scans every corner of the room marks her as security.

I spot Liv at the nurses’ station and make a beeline for her, grateful to see a familiar face in this sea of strangeness. “Hey,” I say, leaning against the counter.

Liv’s eyes widen when she sees me approaching. She drops her pen on the counter and rushes around to give me a quick hug.

“Mrs. Antonova,” she whispers dramatically, pulling back to examine my face. “How’s married life treating you?”

I glance around to make sure no one’s within earshot. “It’s...interesting.”

“Interesting?” Liv raises an eyebrow, her dark curls bouncing as she tilts her head. “That’s all I get after standing next to you in that whirlwind wedding yesterday? Come on, spill.”

I tug her toward the break room, which is mercifully empty this early in the morning. I close the door behind us and lean against it. “We had sex,” I say without preamble.

Liv’s mouth drops open. “You what?”

“We had sex. Three times, actually.”

“Three—” Liv cuts herself off, lowering her voice. “Three times? I thought this was a business arrangement?”

I move to the coffee machine, pouring myself another cup despite having had one at the penthouse. Hospital shifts require caffeine, and lots of it. “It is a business arrangement,” I say, stirring in cream. I prefer black, but I hope the creamer will help hide the burnt taste. “The sex was just... an unexpected bonus.”

“A bonus?” Liv crosses her arms. “Elena, you can’t sleep with the man and pretend it doesn’t complicate things.”

“It doesn’t have to.” I take a sip of the coffee and grimace at the bitter taste. The creamer didn’t help. “We’re adults. We’re attracted to each other. The sex was good, really good, so why not enjoy it while this arrangement lasts?”

Liv studies my face. “Because you’re not the casual sex type. You never have been.”

“Maybe I’m evolving.”

“Or maybe you’re playing with fire.” Liv relaxes against the counter beside me. “Does this mean you’re actually going to be a real couple?”

“No,” I say firmly. “It’s still just a six-month deal. I get my tuition paid, he gets his alibi, and we both get some physical satisfaction in the meantime. When it’s over, we go our separate ways.”

“And you don’t think you’ll develop feelings for him?”

I laugh, though it sounds hollow even to my ears. “For apakhan? A Russian mafia boss? No, Liv. I’m not going to fall in love with him.”

“You say that now, but?—”

“I’m not naïve,” I interrupt. “I know exactly who he is and what he does. This is temporary, and I’m keeping my eyes wide open.”

Liv sighs. “Fine, but what’s it like living with him? Is his place as fancy as I imagine?”

“Fancier. It’s a penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows, marble everything, and more rooms than I can count. There’s a chef who comes in to prepare meals, a housekeeper, and...” I hesitate.

“And what?”

“Security. Everywhere.” I lower my voice further. “There’s a woman named Valeriya who follows me around. She’s here now, probably lurking somewhere nearby.”

Liv’s gaze darts to the door. “Seriously? Like a bodyguard?”

“Exactly like a bodyguard. Apparently, being Damir’s wife makes me a target.”

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