His Forbidden Mafia Princess

Chapter - Six

Aleena's POV

Nico held my hand.“Are you alright?” he asked gently.

“Yeah,” I whispered. His warm grip steadied me.

The party was still in full swing. Guests floated around us, mingling and chatting. I noticed Caldwell in the distance, deep in conversation with my father.

Suddenly, Nico's hand tensed in mine. I followed his gaze, and there she was.

Anastasia Kirova.

Actress. Mafia daughter. Trouble.

Her black eyes locked onto Nico, lingering far too long. His body stiffened. She made her way toward us with elegance and poison in every step.

Her eyes dropped to our intertwined fingers.

Then they found me and stayed there.

Tension crackled between them. A shared past I didn’t want any part of.

Nico’s grip loosened. I slowly pulled my hand away. His eyes immediately flicked to mine, concern etched across his face. Was I having another panic attack?

“I’m okay,” I murmured under my breath.

“Congratulations, lovebirds,” Anastasia said sweetly too sweetly. “I’m Anastasia Kirova. So happy to be part of your celebration.”

She looked at Nico, her voice laced with sugar and venom.

“Thank you,” I replied in a calm tone.

“Can I steal Nico for a moment?” she asked, feigning innocence but dripping with familiarity.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Ms. Kirova,” Nico replied flatly.

“Oh, come on, Nico. Don’t act like we don’t—”

“Nico,” I interrupted sharply, “I think my father’s calling us.”

Anastasia's eyes snapped at me, seething. She wasn’t here to celebrate. She was here to stir chaos, and I had no intention of getting dragged into it.

Nico took my hand and led me away. I could feel her eyes burning into my back.

We slipped into a private room to rest before returning to the party.

I held a glass of wine. Nico nursed his whiskey.

“Who was that lady? Your girlfriend?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“Ex-girlfriend,” he muttered, annoyed. “She won’t be a problem.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Nico.”

He turned to look at me.

“She doesn’t seem like the type to let go easily,” I said. “Feels like she’s still crazy about you.”

“I don’t give a d*mn what she feels,” he snapped. “I’m engaged to you.”

“You’re forgetting this is just an arrangement,” I reminded him.

His expression darkened for a fleeting second, then vanished, replaced by a careful calm.

“Why did you two break up anyway?” I asked softly.

“I’m not close enough to share that with you,” he said curtly.

“Right. Sorry. I forgot you walked away from our friendship,” I said, my voice tighter than I intended. I hadn’t meant to snap, but maybe I was still hurt. He left when I needed him most as a friend.

Nico’s eyes flicked to mine before drifting away, lost in thought.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped,” I said quietly, resting my head on the couch. A wave of exhaustion settled into my body like a slow fog.

I glanced at him again, catching him watching me. The way he looked at me made something shift in my chest. But I wasn’t sure what. I wasn’t even sure why I felt anything at all.

Maybe it was the wine. I poured another glass, feeling a bit bolder with each sip.

“You should date that Anastasia woman,” I muttered. “She looked heartbroken... and still in love with you.”

Nico turned slightly. “You know her name?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“She’s an actress, isn’t she?” I said, shrugging.

“You don’t even watch movies.”

“Yeah. My sister’s a fan of hers,” I said, waving it off.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you suddenly trying to play matchmaker with my ex?”

“I’d prefer not to be murdered by Anastasia Kirova, thanks. I have enough drama already,” I said, leaning back.

Nico sat beside me, and I turned my head to find him close, — too close. My breath caught slightly as our eyes met.

“I won’t drag you into my mess,” he said after a pause. “I’ll handle things with Anastasia.”

“If you plan on getting back together with her, just let me know,” I replied.

“I will.”

A strange pang twisted in my chest. I dismissed it. Probably just another sign of a panic attack. That had to be it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I want to go to bed and sleep for a week,” I said, the truth slipping out more easily than I expected. Something about being near him

made me let my guard down.

“Well then,” he said, standing, “we better wrap this up and get you some rest.”

I smiled despite myself.

We rejoined the party. After more greetings, it was time for the formal dance.

Nico extended his hand, and I placed mine in his, aware of every eye on us. Tension coiled in my spine as we moved to the rhythm. His hand rested on my back, warm and steady, and for a moment, I felt like I could fall into him completely.

I stepped on his foot.

He didn’t even flinch.

When I glanced up, his eyes were blank, but I caught them drifting toward the black-haired woman standing at the edge of the crowd

Anastasia.

As the party ended, we walked out together… until I saw her again. Anastasia Kirova stood in the corridor, waiting.

“You need to talk to her,” I said, pulling my hand from his. “I can’t save you this time.”

Nico gave me a look but walked toward her. I watched them speak too close, too intensely. His eyes held something I hadn’t seen before… a warmth. Not the cold detachment he usually wore.

I didn’t realize someone was behind me until I felt a presence. I turned.

Caldwell.

“You’re back,” I said flatly. He didn’t answer.

“Sis!” My sister stumbled into view, tipsy and hiccuping.

“You drank too much again, didn’t you?” I sighed.

She giggled madly, puked, nearly toppled over.

“Caldwell, can you take her to her room?” I asked. He hesitated.

“I can’t leave my post,” he said.

“Fine. I’ll carry her,” I said, already moving toward her.

He stopped me. “I’ll do it.” He lifted her with ease and followed my lead as I directed him to the nearest guest room. After tucking

her in, I realized I still needed my phone from Nico’s coat.

I returned, weaving through the dim halls. I found myself drawn to the gallery… and stopped cold.

There they were, Nico and Anastasia. Her eyes met mine as she pulled him into a kiss. Her gaze was direct, taunting. Like she wanted

me to see.

I stood frozen, a tightness creeping into my chest.

“Nico,” I called.

He pulled away from her instantly, pushing her back with a sharp, “Back off.”

Then he turned to me.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he said quickly.

“I couldn’t care less,” I replied coolly. “I just want my phone.”

Anastasia looked at me, stunned. No screaming. No theatrics. No slap.

“Give me the phone, Nico,” I said. “I’m tired.”

Before he could answer, I felt Caldwell’s presence behind me again. Nico’s expression hardened.

I took my phone, turned on my heel. “Be careful, Nico,” I said over my shoulder with a small smile. When I glanced back, his eyes were on me, unreadable.

Back in my room, Caldwell lingered near the doorway.

“What, you’re not going to stand there like a haunting ghost tonight?” I asked.

“No,” he said calmly. “I think you’re done running.”

I rolled my eyes. “Who knows?”

“I’ll catch you if you do,” he replied.

I arched a brow. “You shouldn’t challenge me.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. It vanished when his eyes fell on the engagement ring on my finger.

“Please just rest,” he said, stepping aside as I walked in.

He closed the door behind him, and I felt a strange sense of relief.

Still, the image of Nico and Anastasia lingered in my mind like a thorn.

I tried to sleep. Tossed. Turned. Nothing helped.

I slowly opened the window and climbed onto the balcony railing.

This routine had become second nature, like déjà vu. I'd done it so many times, it barely felt like sneaking out anymore.

I lowered myself carefully, gripping the edge of the railing before dropping down to the next balcony. From there, I made my way across, moving silently, until I reached the edge of the estate.

The cold air hit my face as I stepped onto the lawn. I welcomed it. The space behind the house stretched out under the night sky, quiet and undisturbed. I knew this part well — the CCTV blind spot, the soft patrol routes of the guards.

Beyond the clearing, I’d even carved out a hidden place of my own: a small wooden basement nestled beneath an old shed, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

As I walked, something tugged sharply on my jacket.

I stumbled, halting mid-step.

Turning quickly, I looked to see what was holding me back.