Mafia King’s Bride

14. Dmitri

FOURTEEN

DMITRI

I wake slowly, blinking against the sunlight spilling through the window. I can feel warmth on my face, the rare sensation of peace wrapped around me. That’s unusual, considering I barely sleep more than five hours on a good night. The weight of endless responsibilities usually keeps me half-awake, always vigilant. But this morning feels different.

Something shifts in the bed beside me.

I turn my head, and there she is. Ana.

I freeze.

What is she doing here?

And then it hits me— last night . The memories come flooding back as I glance around the room, seeing the telltale signs. The way we tangled together, the heat between us as she clung to me, the feel of her skin under my hands. We fucked, and I let myself fall asleep with her in my arms.

I shouldn’t have.

I should’ve walked away, should’ve left the room before things got messy. But instead, I stayed, and now I’m lying here like a damn fool, watching her sleep.

I try to reason with myself, to dismiss the strange pull in my chest. Who am I kidding?

My eyes linger on her face, the peaceful rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, her eyelashes fluttering softly against her cheeks. Anastasia Orlov, my wife , lying next to me like she belongs there.

My hand moves almost on instinct, fingers itching to touch her, to trace the curve of her cheek. But I stop myself just inches away. If I touch her, if I give in to that urge, it’ll break the spell. And I know as well as anyone that the moment the spell breaks, we go back to what we were—strangers under the same roof, a marriage built on business interest and revenge.

This thing between us won’t last. It can’t last.

I swallow hard, trying to bury the gnawing feeling inside me, but it’s there, persistent and irritating.

Her eyelids flutter open, and I can see the confusion in her gaze as it lands on me. She gasps and rolls off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud .

“Ouch!” she yelps, cradling her knee.

Without thinking, I’m off the bed in a second, crouching down beside her. “What the hell was that?” I laugh, even as something tugs at me.

She lets out a girlish giggle but quickly catches herself, waving it off with a flick of her hand as a frown erases the glimmer of playfulness. "Forget it. I’m fine."

I stand. I start to reach out to help her up, but she holds out a hand, stopping me. “Can you give me some space, please?”

There it is. The pushback.

I feel the cold wash of rejection settle over me, and I know it’s coming. She’s pulling away already, setting the boundary between us. But still, I perch on the edge of the bed, watching her, waiting for her to say what I know is coming.

It would be smarter to walk out, save myself from hearing it. I know exactly what she’s going to say. And yet, a part of me—some weak, foolish part—waits.

Ana sighs, closing her eyes as if steeling herself. “Thank you for being there for me. But what happened,” she hesitates, “it was a mistake. We both know that. It would be silly to think otherwise. Right?”

“Right,” I say, my voice flat, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

I shouldn’t feel this way. My chest shouldn’t ache like this.

I stand abruptly, the weight of her words settling over me like a cold, heavy blanket. “I should go. I’ll see you later.”

As I make my way toward the door, her voice stops me in my tracks.

“Dmitri?” she calls my name softly, and something in me stirs, like a flicker of warmth in the icy distance. I turn my head slightly, just enough to hear her. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

A spark.

But it fades just as quickly as it came, snuffed out by the sound of her footsteps retreating toward the bathroom. I stand there for a moment, feeling the emptiness return, then head back to my room.

I scrub my face with my hands, the cold water doing nothing to wash away the lingering frustration. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. It was a mistake ; she’s made that clear. I need to let it go, move on.

But the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about last night. About how her body fit against mine, the way she whispered my name, the way she let me in.

I step into the shower, the scalding water cascading over me, but the heat doesn’t stop my mind from wandering back to her. It’s stupid, but I can’t shake it. She’s gotten under my skin in a way I wasn’t prepared for, and it’s messing with me.

There’s no going back to the way things were between us. No matter how much we both pretend it was an accident, we’ve crossed a line.

So where do we go from here?

I don’t know, but one thing is clear: she’s not leaving my mind anytime soon.

“Igor,” I say, the second I see him hovering by the elevator as I step out.

Typical. He’s been circling like a vulture for days. “What brings you to my office?”

“I was hoping I could have a word with you,” he says, trying to match my strides as I make my way down the hallway.

I know what this is about before he even opens his mouth. Igor’s been sweating the Las Vegas deal for weeks now, unable to close it. I knew he would come to me sooner or later. I let him twist in the wind and watched him scramble. He’s desperate now, and desperate men are easy to control.

We reach my office door, and he halts, shifty-eyed, fidgeting like a kid about to confess.

Here we go.

“Okay?” I ask, pausing to let him gather whatever courage he has left.

He avoids my gaze, staring at the floor, the walls—anywhere but at me.

Pathetic.

I already know what he wants, but I let him grovel. It’s more fun.

“You remember when I told you about that good deal in Vegas?” His voice is laced with anxiety. “A billionaire investor interested in my casinos?”

I arch a brow, barely able to conceal my disdain. “ Your casinos? Did you actually buy them?”

He scratches the back of his head, avoiding the question entirely. “Well, no. Not yet. But I met with the owners. They’re willing to move forward, it’s just...there’s a time factor.”

I stare at him, pretending ignorance. “And what’s stopping you? You’ve got your investor, right? You’ve got the parties lined up. All you need to do is close the deal, buy them out. Profit rolls in.”

Igor shifts nervously, and I can practically see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Just say it. Admit your failure.

“Well,” he falters, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “The thing is, the investor wasn’t going to give me the money outright. He wanted shares. And then, after some time, I’d pay him back half.”

I nod slowly, enjoying the way he squirms. “So, you’re telling me you just realized you were about to get played? That the investor was ready to screw you over?”

Igor’s eyes widen with panic. “Yes. Yes, exactly! I should’ve listened to you. You warned me about outsiders. I thought I could handle it, but?—”

I raise a hand to stop his rambling.

Pitiful. I can almost feel sorry for him.

Almost.

“Let me guess,” I say, the edge in my voice unmistakable. “You’re here to ask me to fix this for you.”

He flinches at the bluntness of it, but nods. “Yes, Dmitri. I need your help.”

I let the silence stretch, drumming my fingers against my thigh as he stares at me like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

He’s mine now.

“Okay, Igor,” I finally say, placing a hand on his shoulder like a father about to offer sage advice. “You made a mistake. A terrible one. But it’s not the end of the world.” My voice lowers, calm and calculated. “I’ll help you. But there’s a catch.”

His eyes light up with desperate hope. “What do I need to do?”

“Leave it all to me,” I say simply. “I’ll handle the investment, the handover, everything. Your name will be on the papers, but I’ll be running the show. Agreed?”

Igor hesitates, his brows knitting together as he tries to process the offer. His eyes dart to mine, searching for the catch, but there’s no hidden motive. It’s all right there, laid out plainly for him.

I control everything.

“You have concerns about my methods?” I challenge, turning slightly as if ready to leave.

“No, no,” he blurts out quickly. “I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

I suppress a smile, turning back to him with a slight nod.

That’s more like it.

“Good. Send whatever documents you have to my secretary. I’ll go over them and let you know the next steps.”

Igor breathes out in relief, like a man who just got pulled from the jaws of death. “Thank you, Dmitri. Thank you.”

I dismiss his gratitude with a wave, already bored of the conversation. “Don’t mention it. Just remember—your loyalty is the only thing I expect in return.”

He nods fervently, his grin returning. “Of course. That’s why you’re Dmitri Orlov. Your father was the same.”

My jaw tightens, the mention of my father stirring something dark and bitter inside me.

No, he wasn’t.

My father wasn’t ruthless enough. He trusted the wrong people, let himself be deceived, manipulated. That’s not a mistake I plan to repeat.

“I have a meeting,” I say, my voice colder now. “I’ll see you later.”

I turn sharply, striding down the hall as my fingernails dig into my palm.

Your father was the same.

No. My father was weak in ways I’ll never allow myself to be. I won’t let sentiment or misplaced trust cloud my judgment. This empire will be stronger, more unshakable than his ever was. And people like Igor Pavlov? They’ll be the ones who fall in line—or fall entirely.

As I reach the elevator, my thoughts flicker back to Ana.

No.

I can’t afford to think about her now. Feelings make you weak, and weakness gets you killed. I tighten my grip on the situation with Igor, reminding myself of what I do best. Control. Power. Ruthlessness.

That’s what keeps me at the top.