Mafia King’s Bride

28. Dmitri

TWENTY-EIGHT

DMITRI

One.

Two.

Three.

Boom.

Watching the warehouse go up in flames is satisfying. The kind of satisfaction that seeps deep into your bones. The crackling wood, the thick smoke curling up into the night sky—it all feels like a cleansing, a purge of anyone foolish enough to betray me. It’s the kind of catharsis only fire can provide, a reminder to the world that Dmitri Orlov doesn’t just make threats. I deliver.

“Is this the last one?” I ask, not tearing my eyes from the inferno as Leonid steps up beside me.

“Yes, boss,” he says. “I just got word from the others. Two of the sites had some resistance, but it was handled.”

Resistance. Pests. That’s what a once-powerful pakhan syndicate and an Italian Mafia gang have been reduced to.

Handled.

Good. It’s the beginning of the end for anyone who thinks they can move against the Orlov family. If this doesn’t scare them, the fire will finish what my reputation started—reducing everything they built to ash. And if that still doesn’t do the job? I’ll burn them out, piece by piece. Down to the last brick.

I hear footsteps approaching, nervous ones, a familiar shuffle of someone who’s spent too long lying to themselves and now finds themselves at the mercy of reality. I turn, catching Igor Pavlov making his way toward me. His face is tight, though he’s trying to keep it together. I enjoy seeing him squirm.

“Pavlov,” I greet him, my voice low, dangerous. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He stares at the flames, his expression a mixture of fear and curiosity, like a child watching a car crash but too scared to look away. “Bianchi?” he croaks.

“You sound concerned,” I say, smirking. “I thought you said he wasn’t one of us.”

His eyes dart to mine, the fear evident before he quickly masks it, but I’ve already seen enough. He’s rattled, and rightfully so.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” he tries, his voice shaking. “The Italians can’t be trusted. I heard rumors, but I didn’t have proof, so I didn’t?—”

“You didn’t tell me,” I finish for him, enjoying the way he flinches at the edge in my tone. “You thought it’d be fun to see me fall.”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to deny it, but I cut him off with a lazy wave of my hand. “I don’t need you to be my eyes and ears, Igor. I already know who my enemies are.”

I let the silence hang between us for a beat too long. My words are a warning, subtle but deadly, and I can tell it registers when he shifts his gaze, looking away.

“Well,” he mutters, gesturing weakly with his hands, “you’re Dmitri. You always know everything.”

I smile, a cold, calculated gesture that holds no warmth. He’s a coward—always has been. Useful, but a coward nonetheless.

As I walk back toward my car, I hear his footsteps trailing behind me, his pace quickening to match mine. “Did you come here to talk business? Because if it’s about the casino deal, it’s not ready yet.” I spare him a glance. “I gave you a month, but these things take time. Unless you want to take over?—”

“No, no!” he cuts in, his voice rising in a panic. “I trust you. I didn’t come for that. I...I heard what happened, and I wanted to show my support. We’re brothers in arms, after all.”

I stop, turning to face him fully, my expression deadly calm. “Thieves in arms,” I correct, the smile on my lips tight. “Thank you for the support, Igor. But I’ve got things under control.”

I start to walk again, but his voice follows, laced with desperation. “Dmitri, I owe you for helping me with the deal. I couldn’t have done it without you. I owe you.”

I pause, turning slightly, just enough to let him see the cruel smile tugging at my lips. “Oh, you owe me more than you think, Pavlov.”

He doesn’t know yet, but his time is coming. His parting words are nothing but a weak attempt to pledge loyalty, to put himself in my good graces before I decide to turn my sights on him. But I’m not interested in false loyalty. I don’t need someone who hides behind words when their actions say otherwise.

He thinks gratitude will save him. But in my world, pretending to be loyal while you wait for an opportunity to betray only earns you one thing—a bullet. Or worse.

As I get into the car, my fingers drum on the wheel, my thoughts already moving from Pavlov’s pathetic attempt at survival to the only thing that matters.

Ana.

She’s different from all of this, different from the fire and the blood. She makes me feel things I’ve long buried—feelings that threaten the icy walls I’ve built around myself. She’s the only person who can make me question whether the monster I’ve become is worth it.

But I know better than to think love makes you weak. It makes you sharper, hungrier, more dangerous. If anyone dares touch her again, I won’t just burn them.

I’ll tear them apart with my bare hands.

When I get home, Janet tells me Ana’s resting. My pulse quickens, the need to see her pushing away the rest of the day’s chaos. I take the stairs two at a time, eager to feel her in my arms, to bury everything else in the warmth of her skin.

But when I step into the room, it’s empty. The faint sound of water catches my attention, and I turn toward the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar, steam curling out in tendrils, and I push it open, stepping inside.

There she is. My wife. Naked. Gorgeous. Partially concealed by the misty heat, her body glistens in the low light. She’s humming softly to herself, completely unaware of my presence.

I let myself savor the moment. The curve of her back, the delicate slope of her neck as she leans into the spray. She’s a vision, something I could never have imagined would belong to me. Me —a man who’s built a life on blood, betrayal, and fire.

I slip in quietly, the sound of the shower masking my footsteps. I place my hand gently on her shoulder. She jumps, gasping, her wide eyes locking onto mine as she shakes her head.

“You scared me to death, you brute.”

“I would’ve brought you back to life,” I murmur, my voice low, possessive, as my fingers trail up to cup her chin. I tilt her head back, making her meet my gaze, my mouth hovering just inches from hers.

Her lips part slightly, and my tongue flicks out to trace the seam of her mouth, teasing, a soft, needy sigh escaping her.

There’s nothing gentle in the way I look at her—nothing soft. I’ve been cold, ruthless, dangerous all my life. But with Ana, there’s something else. Something more.

My control frays at the edges every time she’s close, and tonight, I don’t intend to hold back.

I deepen the kiss, cradling her face with a hand and pulling her close with the other. Her body is soft, as usual, and warm from the water cascading down.

“You’ll get wet,” Ana whispers.

“Mm,” I murmur against her lips, running my hand over her back and caressing her spine with my finger. I feel her shiver. “It’s too late for that, kotyonok. Besides, I don’t mind.”

My hand on her back inches lower, grabbing her ass and kneading lightly. She moans, and her tongue slips into my mouth when I kiss her again, setting off a spark that travels through my body and turns into a wildfire along the way.

Her breasts spill out as I try to cup them with one hand, and she arches her back, pushing them against my chest.

“How has your day been?” I ask as I lower my head, licking the water droplets off one nipple. “Mine’s getting better by the minute.”

Ana’s hands dive into my hair, panting softly when my mouth closes around her peaked bead, sucking on it. I scrape my teeth against it, making her gasp, and then I move to the other one, flicking with my tongue before sucking. With my head nestled against her chest, my other hand parts her thighs, and teasingly, knowing where she wants me to touch, I trail my fingers up her thighs.

She makes a sound of protest, reaching for my hand, but I pull back, biting her nipple as a small warning. It only makes her more aroused, and when my thumb flicks against her slit, she’s wet .

Hell.

“ Kotyonok,” I growl. “You must have been thinking about me while you were showering, craving my finger inside you,” I slide it in, “wanting me to fuck you, pounding hard as you come apart on my dick.”

Ana whimpers when I curl my finger and rub the pad against her most sensitive spot. Her legs jerk, and her arms reach around my neck, holding on tight. My dick twitches too, eager to replace my fingers.

“I want you like this,” I rasp as I withdraw my hand, turning her around.

Her ass grinds against my crotch as the warm water pours down on both of us. Her whimpers push me close to the edge of a primal need, the overwhelming desire to own and pleasure her.

With one hand around her neck, I spread Ana’s legs again and find her clit with my thumb, circling it. She cries out as I apply a little more pressure, and my other hand cups her breast, gently tugging on her nipple.

When I slide my finger into her warmth again, she clenches tight and comes soon after, breathing heavily.

I hold her in my arms, then lift her, carrying her to the bed. Setting Ana down on it, with her eager eyes on me, I strip off my wet clothes.

Her eyes widen as I take my dick into my hand, stroking it while looking at her. Beautiful eyes. Gorgeous woman.

I climb the bed, kissing her softly on the mouth and then pulling her onto my body to straddle me.

“You want me here?” she asks, biting her bottom lip and looking naughty.

I brush a lock of hair from her face. “Yes, kotyonok. I want you on me, taking my dick into you, riding hard. I want to watch your eyes roll back and see you unravel. I need to hear my name on your lips while I fuck you.”

She grows bolder with each word, and I bite back an oath when she places my hands on her hips, guiding my tip to her entrance. I thrust in slowly, watching her pupils widen as she takes me in.

“Fuck, Ana,” I groan. “You feel so fucking good. I’ll never get enough of you.”

When she doesn’t respond, I increase the pace of my thrusts, tilting my hips higher and pounding faster. My thumb finds her clit again, and I watch her eyes as they roll back, her chest heaving and her breasts bouncing.

I pour myself into her, giving back as much as I take. Her keen sounds of pleasure turn into loud moans that echo in the room, and she braces her hands on my chest, pushing down and rubbing her ass against my thighs.

The sound of her ass slapping against my body is nothing short of dizzying and unapologetically primal. It’s like the other times, but also as if it is the first time I’m discovering what it feels like to touch her body, learn her curves, and get a taste of heaven.

Her walls squeeze my dick as she falls over the edge, her body tensing, then relaxing. I find climax seconds later, letting go with my eyes tightly closed and the world shattering.