Mafia King’s Bride

13. Ana

THIRTEEN

ANA

I drag myself out of the car, my feet heavy as lead as I make my way to the graveyard behind the gated fence. Every step feels like I’m wading through thick mud, weighed down by the endless tears I’ve cried and the hollow ache in my chest. I don’t even know how I made it here, but somehow, I keep moving.

I push open the gate with trembling fingers and let my legs carry me to the headstone. The graveyard is quiet, almost untouched, the few bodies buried here belonging to people connected to my family. It’s a private place, away from the world.

It’s where my father buried my mother. Every year since I was two, he brought me here to visit her.

“ Mamochka .” I fall to my knees, letting my body crumble in front of her grave. The tears spill freely now, rolling down my cheeks as my shaking hands brush the dirt off the headstone.

Maria Petrov. Mother and Wife. Gone, but never forgotten.

I trace the letters with my fingertips, as if touching her name might somehow bring her closer to me.

“Mom.” My voice cracks, choking on the lump of sorrow lodged in my throat. “I wish you were here. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Papa won’t see me. He’s avoiding me because of what he made me do—because of this marriage to Dmitri Orlov.”

The sobs rack my body again, my chest heaving as I struggle to catch my breath.

“I’m alone, Mamochka . Completely alone, and I don’t know what to do. If you were here, maybe everything would be different. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so...trapped.”

I press my forehead against the cold marble of her grave, feeling the icy stone against my burning skin. “It’s not fair,” I cry, my voice barely above a whisper. “I never asked for this. I never wanted this life. But I’m stuck in it. I’m a prisoner, and no one cares.”

The sobs tear through me, leaving me shaking as I curl up against the gravestone, wishing more than anything that my mother could reach through the earth and hold me, comfort me the way only a mother could.

“I miss you so much, Mom,” I whisper into the silence, my voice dissolving into raw, broken weeping. “Please...if you can hear me, send me something. A sign. Anything. I just need you.”

But the air remains still, the weight of my grief too much to bear.

By the time I get back home, it feels like I’ve been hollowed out. The grief still clings to me like a second skin, making every movement feel like I’m dragging an anchor behind me. I barely make it through the door before Yelena’s voice reaches me.

“Anastasia?” Her tone shifts from light to concerned as soon as she catches sight of me. She rushes over, her face full of worry. “What happened? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

I try to speak, but my throat is too tight, my emotions too raw. My legs buckle beneath me, the strength drained from my body.

“Yelena...” I choke on her name, tears blurring my vision again.

Before I collapse completely, she’s there, holding me tight, her arms wrapping around me like a lifeline.

“It’s okay,” she soothes, guiding me to the couch. “You don’t have to say anything yet. Just sit down and breathe.”

I can barely catch my breath, but Yelena’s voice is calm and steady, just what I need right now.

“In and out,” she whispers. “Just breathe. You’re safe here.”

I follow her instructions, taking shaky breaths until the weight on my chest lifts just enough to let me speak. When the worst of it passes, I tell her everything—the memories of my mom, the annual visits to her grave, how my father has refused to see me, and how it feels like I’ve been abandoned by the one person who should always support me.

“He wasn’t there today,” I say, my voice breaking. “He’s never missed any of her death anniversaries. I don’t know what to do anymore, Yelena. It’s like I’m drowning, and there’s no one to pull me out.”

Yelena shakes her head, squeezing my hand. “You’re not alone. You’ve got me, okay? I might’ve just gotten here, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m pretty good at offering shoulders to cry on.” She offers a small smile. “I even give out discounts for extended use.”

I let out a weak laugh, the sound more of a broken sob. “Oh yeah? And what’s your rate?”

She grins, her eyes lighting up with warmth. “One hug per day should cover it.”

I reach out, pulling her into a hug. “You’re a much better deal than anything else I’ve got going.”

We sit in silence for a while, Yelena’s presence a balm for the raw ache in my chest. When I finally pull away, I head to my room to take a nap, hoping that sleep will numb the pain for a little while. But as soon as I sit down, alone again, the grief rushes back. My hands shake as I run them through my hair, the weight of everything pressing down on me all over again.

I step into the bathroom, needing something—anything—to wash away the feeling. The hot water from the shower beats against my skin, but it doesn’t do enough to drown out the sadness that clings to me.

Wrapping a towel around myself, I step out of the bathroom—and freeze.

Dmitri is standing by the door, his eyes widening the second he sees me.

For a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us crackles with tension, and I realize with horror that I’m standing here, wet, in nothing but a towel.

“What are you doing here?” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended.

He rubs the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. “Yelena told me you weren’t feeling well. I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” I bite out, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to cover the vulnerability I feel.

He takes a step forward, his expression softening in a way I’ve never seen before. “I know about your mother’s death anniversary.”

I shrug, turning away from him. “So? That doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

But Dmitri doesn’t move. “I’m not here to offer empty sympathy, Ana. I just?—”

“Just what?” I spin around, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Just want to ease your guilt? I don’t need it. I don’t need you .”

“Ana—” he starts, his voice low, but I cut him off.

“Please, Dmitri,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Not today. I can’t deal with this. Not now.”

He stands there for a moment, watching me as I turn my back on him, retreating to my closet to find something to wear. But then, I feel his presence behind me, and before I can say anything, his arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’m so sorry.”

My first instinct is to push him away, but I don’t. The warmth of his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest, it all feels too much like the comfort I’ve been craving.

He turns me to face him, and I sob against his chest, my body shaking as he holds me tighter, refusing to let go.

“Take it out on me,” he says softly. “Hit me. Scream at me. But don’t keep it in, Ana. You’ll only hurt yourself more.”

I finally try to push him away, but my strength is gone. All I can do is cling to him, the man I’ve spent months resenting, as the sobs rack my body.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his voice gentle. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

For the first time in a long while, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m not as alone as I thought. When I calm down somewhat, I open my eyes, realizing that my fingers are digging into his arms. I loosen the grip, and the red marks I left behind make me gasp.

“Oh gosh,” I mutter incoherently.

Dmitri smiles. It’s the first time he’s ever smiled at me that way. Warmth touches every inch of his face, making his eyes look brighter and bluer, his cheekbones softer.

Unable to stop myself, I reach up and touch his lips with my thumb.

His smile drops, and I snatch my hand away as though burned.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“Uh, I just—” I hesitate. “I haven’t seen you smile at me since we got married. I mean, there was the one time when Yelena was there, but it was because of her...”

I don’t finish, and silence follows.

We stare at each other, and it feels like an eternity. Something shifts between us, the air now charged with an undercurrent I can’t define but feel all the way down to my bones.

What’s going on?

I open my mouth to ask what’s changed, what this charged energy means, but the words die on my lips.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

Dmitri surprises me by speaking first, his voice low.

My heart stutters in my chest. I don’t know what’s brought about the sudden change in the way he sees me and treats me, but I’m not about to question it.

One large hand comes up to cradle my cheek as his head dips low.

Then his lips are on mine, soft yet decisive. I gasp quietly at the unfamiliar yet overwhelming sensation. This is no peck or cursory kiss—it feels like an earthquake, shaking me to my core.

One kiss turns to two, three, forgetting to count as I lose myself. All the months of hostility between us seem to melt away as I circle my arms around his neck.

His thumb strokes my cheek as our lips move together, and I realize with startling clarity that I like this. More than I thought I ever would.

Reluctantly, Dmitri ends the kiss but stays close, our foreheads touching as we both catch our breath.

I keep my eyes closed, afraid of what I might see in his when I open them. I don’t want this moment to end.

“Anastasia,” he whispers my full name. “I want more. If you want me to stop, you need to say it.”

This is uncharted territory.

I should take a step back and evaluate.

“Don’t stop.” My lips move, birthing the words.

He nods and leans in again, kissing me deeper this time. There’s no question of patience or subtlety. We both know this is more than a kiss—we know where it will end. I let my towel fall when his hand touches the part where I tucked it in, and he ends the kiss to stare at me, sucking in a deep breath.

I feel exposed under his stare, but he looks at me like I’m something unbelievable. It erases my vulnerability. His gaze is pure adoration, and his hands, when they cup my breasts, do so gently.

“Dmitri,” I murmur his name, leaning in as his fingers tease my nipples to hardened peaks, awash with need and desire.

Dmitri claims my lips again as his muscular arms encircle my body, closing the space between us. He nudges my legs apart, stepping in with a muscled thigh.

I pant as his tongue slides into my mouth, and his hand cups my ass, kneading hard. Every part of me screams his name, wanting to be touched and set aflame by his hands.

“Bed,” he whispers, lifting me off my feet.

I throw my arms around him with a breezy laugh, which dies when he lays me down, and I notice his gaze. Dark and intense, Dmitri’s eyes send a shot of pleasure through me, while a steady pulse kicks between my legs.

He braces his weight on his arms as he hovers above me and one hand caresses my cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” Dmitri utters as his thumb strokes the spot behind my ear. “ So beautiful.”

My cheeks turn rosy, and the flush spreads across my face. I’ve been complimented a lot before I met Dmitri, but I’ve never been with someone who called me beautiful while looking at me like he wanted to devour me.

With a promise that I’ll enjoy every moment of it.

His lips touch my forehead. “Gorgeous. When I saw you walk into the garden that night, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

Does he mean it? I wonder, searching for the truth in his eyes.

My thoughts melt away when his lips touch my chin—kisses peppered down my neck and my collarbone. His hands run over my arms, my stomach, and between my legs.

I gasp when his thumb brushes over my clit, tilting my pelvis and riding his hand. His finger slips inside me, and he touches my g-spot, rubbing against it until I’m panting loudly, sinking my fingers into his hair.

My walls clench around his finger, greedy for more and craving release. Dmitri pushes me until I’m close—moaning and panting and begging him with heavy sighs, then removes his finger.

I open my mouth to protest, and he swallows my words with another kiss. My impatient hands reach for his shirt, getting it off quickly while the sound of his zipper echoes in the background.

Then he stops abruptly, and I open my eyes to see him staring down at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What?” My voice comes out squeaky. I clear my throat and try again. “What’s wrong?”

He sighs and rubs his forehead. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Just be careful.”

He nods, smirking. “Where were we?”

I’m once again swept away by his kisses, and I suck in a deep breath when he pushes into me inch by inch until my body stretches to accommodate him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I can’t trust myself to speak, so I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck as his thrusts increase—harder, faster, filling every inch of me. My hips rock to match his tempo, and I lose myself in the waves that pull me under repeatedly, taking over my mind, body, and everything else.

He hikes my legs around his waist, and I lock them tight.

“ Kotyonok ,” Dmitri whispers in my ear. “You feel so wet. So fucking wet and tight.”

My entire body trembles when he changes position, pushing my legs close to my chest.

“ Yes . Yes .” My hands fall on the bed, and I cling to the sheets, fisting them tight.

My climax hits me without warning and I go taut for a second before I explode, falling apart with shudders. He doesn’t stop, though, and a tightness rolls through me as I come again.

I hear Dmitri’s low groan, and I feel him pull out as I close my eyes, basking in the euphoria of release.

Minutes later, after returning from the bathroom and climbing back into bed, I lay next to him with my limbs feeling like limp noodles.

He pulls me to him, but neither of us utters a word.

Where do we go from here?

It’s obvious that this is a one-time thing. We don’t even like each other. It’s easy for only sexual chemistry to exist between two people when they can go their separate ways after. But what happens when they’re married?