A Heart Under His Guard (book 2 An angel for mafia king)

Olga POV I wasn’t planning to leave Greece. Not really. I tell myself that as I stare at my laptop screen, watching Angelica shift her phone so I can see her son properly. He’s lying on her bed, tiny fists waving in the air, dark lashes resting against chubby cheeks. Perfect. Completely unaware of how much his existence still amazes me. “Say hi to Aunt Olga,” Angelica says softly. I smile despite the tight feeling in my chest. “Hi, little miracle.” He yawns. Figures. Angelica laughs quietly, then looks back at me. She’s in her bedroom, hair loose, wearing something soft and oversized. Motherhood suits her. She looks calmer than I’ve ever seen her—strong in a quiet way that only comes after surviving hell. I wish I was there with her when she was javi hatd times. But family business kept me to Spain that time. “You look tired,” she says, studying me the way she always has. “Med school does that,” I reply lightly. “You look… different.” She smiles. “Happy.” I let that settle. Angelica happy was never something I took for granted. Not with our families. Not with the world we grew up in. Daughters of rival houses, raised on rules, secrets, and unspoken threats—yet somehow we became inseparable. “Russia suits you,” I say honestly. “It wasn’t easy,” she admits. “But it’s home now.” There it is. The word that’s been circling my thoughts for weeks. Home. “I’ve been thinking,” Angelica says, lowering her voice, like the walls might be listening. “About you. About your studies.” I tense slightly. “Angel—” “Just listen,” she says gently. “You’re brilliant, Olga. You always were. But Greece can only give you so much. You know that.” I do. That’s the problem. “In Moscow,” she continues, “there’s an opportunity. Advanced training. Research. Real cases. You wouldn’t just study medicine—you’d practice it.” I hesitate. “With… your husband’s people.” She doesn’t flinch. “Yes.” I look away from the screen, jaw tightening. Alexander Petrov. The name alone carries weight—even here. “And before you say anything,” Angelica adds quickly, “no one will own you. No one will control you. You’d be there because you choose to be. And because you can help.” I exhale slowly. “That world isn’t… clean,” I say. She nods. “Neither is ours.” Fair. “There’s a private doctor,” she continues. “He’s getting older. He needs someone sharp. Someone who isn’t afraid. Someone who knows where to draw the line.” She looks at me pointedly. “You mean someone who won’t look the other way.” “I mean someone who won’t forget why she became a doctor.” Silence stretches between us. I glance back at the screen. At her. At the child sleeping peacefully beside her. “You’re safe there?” I ask quietly. Her expression softens. “Yes. Because I chose it. And because Alexander learned how to love without cages.” I search her face for doubt. There is none. “What about our families?” I ask. “You know what my last name means.” “I do,” Angelica says. “And so does Alexander. That didn’t stop him from protecting me.” I laugh softly. “That’s not comforting.” “It’s honest.” That’s always been Angelica’s strength. “Come for a visit,” she adds. “See for yourself. If you hate it, you leave. No consequences. No pressure.” I close my eyes. Russia. Distance. A chance to be more than a name tied to old blood and older grudges. A chance to become the doctor I always wanted to be. “When?” I ask before I can stop myself. Angelica’s smile is slow, knowing. “Soon.” I look down at my notes scattered across my desk. At the textbooks I’ve memorized but not yet used. At the life that feels… paused. “Okay,” I say quietly. “I’ll come.” Her eyes shine. “You won’t regret it.” I’m not sure if that’s true. But as the call ends and the screen goes dark, I feel something shift inside me—subtle, inevitable. I don’t know yet that this decision will put me in the path of a man made of scars and silence. I don’t know yet that healing him will mean risking my own heart. All I know is this: Sometimes, the first step toward your future starts with a single call— and the courage to answer it.