Page 29 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

She turns, glass in hand. “I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t keep you alive.”

“What do you want me to say, Damir? That I’ll ignore a dying man next time? That I’ll prioritize your security protocols over someone’s life?”

“I want you to be aware of the danger you’re in because of me.” I move closer to her. “I want you to understand that there are people who would hurt you to get to me.”

“I do understand that. Why do you think I agreed to the security detail in the first place?” She sets down her glass with a sharp click. “I didn’t ask for any of this. The guards, the rules, or the constant surveillance. It was part of our deal, and I’ve been complying.”

“Except today.”

“Today was different. I’m a doctor, Damir. Or I will be. Saving lives is what I do.” Her eyes flash with passion. “Medicine will always be my first priority. I can’t change that, and I won’t apologize for it.”

I exhale harshly, frustration building. “You think I’m asking you to compromise your principles? I’m asking you to be careful. To think.”

“I was thinking, about my patient!”

“He wasn’t your patient. You’re not even on shift.”

“That doesn’t matter.” She steps toward me, her face flushed. “When someone needs medical help, they become my responsibility. That’s the oath I’m taking.”

We stand facing each other, both breathing hard. I see the determination in her eyes and the commitment to her calling. Her passion and purpose are things that drew me to her in the first place.

“You could have been killed,” I say again, my voice lower, strained. The words carry more weight than I intended, revealing more than I meant to show.

Elena’s expression changes, her anger fading as she studies my face. “You were worried about me.”

I don’t answer. Don’t need to.

“Damir.” She moves closer, her voice softer. “I’m sorry I scared you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“I wasn’t scared,” I lie. “I was concerned about a breach in security.”

She tilts her head, seeing through me. “Right. Just business.”

“This arrangement only works if you follow the rules.”

“The arrangement.” She repeats the word slowly. “Is that all this is to you? An arrangement?”

The question hangs between us. Two weeks ago, I would have said yes without hesitation. Now, I’m not so sure. The thought of Elena in danger makes my chest tight in a way I’ve never experienced before.

“What else would it be?” I ask, deflecting.

She studies me for a long moment. “I don’t know, but when you came to the hospital today, you didn’t look like a businessman checking on his investment. You looked like a husband worried about his wife.”

I turn away, uncomfortable with her perception. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“Am I?” She steps around to face me again. “Because it seems to me that if this were purely business, you’d be angry about the inconvenience, not terrified something might have happened to me.”

“I wasn’t terrified.”

“Your hands are shaking, Damir.”

I look down. She’s right. I clench my fists, willing them to stop.

“It’s been two weeks,” she continues softly. “Two weeks of living together, sleeping together. Are you really going to stand there and tell me nothing has changed?”

“Nothing has changed,” I insist, even as I recognize the lie. “This is still a temporary arrangement. Six months, as agreed.”

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