The Reluctant Mafia Bride

Episode 15

But it wasn’t Kirill.

It was Liz.

Her cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly messy, and she wore a sheepish grin. “Sorry! I ran into this guy, and, well…” She trailed off, her expression turning wicked. “Let’s just say the bathroom here isn’t exactly for washing hands.”

For a moment, I just stared at her, trying to process her words. Then, like a dam breaking, relief surged through me so forcefully it left me lightheaded. I threw my arms around her, squeezing her tightly. “Liz, I was terrified! You didn’t answer your phone—I thought something happened to you.”

She pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing. “Oh, crap,” she said, reaching for her purse. “I must’ve left it at the table. Sorry, D. Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I forced a laugh, though my legs felt like they might give out beneath me. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just… a lot on my mind.” My voice sounded thin, unconvincing, even to my own ears.

Liz’s frown deepened, but before she could probe further, I tightened my grip on her arm. “We need to leave,” I said, my tone low and urgent.

She blinked, her confusion clear. “What? Why? It’s barely midnight, and the night’s just getting good!”

I shook my head, glancing nervously around the club. “I’ll explain later,” I muttered, tugging her toward the exit. “We just need to go. Now.”

Her resistance wavered as she caught sight of the intensity in my eyes. “Alright, alright, jeez,” she muttered, letting me lead her through the thrumming crowd. “You’re acting weird, Dahlia.”

I glanced around again, my paranoia in overdrive. Every shadow seemed to stretch too long, every passing car too suspicious. I grabbed Liz’s arm and pulled her further down the sidewalk, away from the club entrance.

“Remember all I told you about Kirill Petrova?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the city night.

Liz nodded slowly, her expression shifting from curiosity to alarm. “Yeah… What about him. Did he text you again?”

“No. I called him,” I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. “I thought he took you, Liz. You weren’t answering your phone, and I panicked. I told him if he didn’t let you go, I’d hunt him down and kill him.”

Her mouth fell open. “You what?”

“I know,” I said, my voice cracking. “It was stupid. So stupid. But I thought—God, I thought he had you. I wasn’t thinking.”

Liz stared at me, her arms still crossed, but now out of a mix of disbelief and concern. “Dahlia, do you have any idea who you’re messing with? Kirill Petrova doesn’t just shrug off threats. He’s—he’s a damn *mafia boss*.”

“I know!” I exclaimed, my voice rising despite myself. “I know exactly who he is, Liz. And now, I’ve painted a giant target on my back.”

Liz ran a hand through her hair, her expression a mix of shock and frustration. “Okay, okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “First, you need to calm down. Freaking out isn’t going to help.”

“Calm down?” I let out a humorless laugh. “Liz, I just threatened a man who could have me disappeared without breaking a sweat. He’s probably already plotting ten different ways to ruin my life.”

Liz grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. “Listen to me. If he wanted you dead, he wouldn’t have bothered with a phone call. He would’ve already sent someone to take care of it.”

Her words were meant to reassure, but they only made my stomach twist tighter. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Liz sighed, glancing around. “Alright, let’s get out of here. We’ll go back to my place, lock the doors, and figure out what to do. We’ll handle this. Together.”

I nodded, though the fear still gnawed at me.

We hurried down the street, her heels clacking against the pavement in hurried, uneven steps. The cool night air did little to soothe my nerves as my thoughts raced, spiraling around one inescapable truth: I’d crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.

When we reached Liz’s car, she quickly unlocked it, and we slid inside. The silence between us was heavy as she started the engine, the hum of the car a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind. Liz glanced over at me as she pulled out of the parking lot, her usual playful demeanor replaced by something much more serious.

“I still can’t believe you called him,” she said after a few moments, her voice quiet but filled with disbelief. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” I admitted, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past. “I panicked. When you didn’t answer your phone, I thought the worst. And after what I saw him do to Mr. Scott… I just—I couldn’t lose you.”

Her expression softened, but she kept her eyes on the road. “Dahlia, I get it. But you can’t play chicken with a guy like Kirill Petrova. He doesn’t lose, and he doesn’t forgive.”

Her words settled over me like a weight. “I know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “But it’s too late now.”

We pulled into the underground parking lot of her apartment building, the familiar sense of safety creeping in as the security gate closed behind us. Liz parked the car and turned to me, her expression unreadable.

“Let’s just get upstairs,” she said, her tone firm but gentle. “We’ll figure this out.”

We rode the elevator in silence, the soft ding as we reached her floor barely registering in my mind. Once inside her apartment, Liz locked the door behind us, securing both the deadbolt and the chain. The place was as immaculate as ever, but tonight, its usual warmth felt cold and distant.

Liz tossed her purse onto the couch and turned to me. “Alright, first things first.” She grabbed a bottle of wine from the kitchen and poured two glasses, handing one to me. “You need to calm down. Drink.”

I took the glass, my hands still trembling slightly, and sipped. The wine was rich and smooth, its warmth spreading through me, dulling the sharp edges of my anxiety.

Liz sank onto the couch beside me, her eyes fixed on me. “Now, tell me everything. What exactly did Kirill say?”

I recounted the phone call, every word etched into my memory. Liz listened intently, her expression growing darker with each detail. When I finished, she let out a low whistle. “Damn,” she muttered. “He didn’t even threaten you. That’s… unexpected.”

“Unexpected how?” I asked, my voice tinged with both fear and curiosity.

Liz leaned back, swirling her wine. “Kirill Petrova doesn’t waste time on warnings or threats. If he wanted to scare you, he would’ve sent someone to your door. If he wanted you dead…” She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around the glass. “So what does he want?”

Liz shrugged, her brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe he’s intrigued. Maybe he’s testing you. Or maybe…” She hesitated, her eyes meeting mine. “Maybe he sees something in you.”

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. “What could he possibly see in me?”

Liz gave me a look, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “You’re smart, stubborn, and you’ve got a backbone most people would kill for. You called out one of the most dangerous men in the city without flinching. That’s not nothing, Dahlia.”

I shook my head, setting my glass on the table. “I don’t want his attention, Liz. I just want this nightmare to be over.”

Liz reached over, placing a hand on mine. “We’ll get through this,” she said firmly. “But for now, you need to keep your head down. No more phone calls, no more threats. Just lay low and hopefully, he will let you be.”

I nodded, grateful for her steady presence, even as the weight of the situation pressed down on me. “Thank you,” I murmured.

Liz squeezed my hand, her expression softening. “You’re not alone, D. We’ve got this.”

She grabbed the remote and started scrolling through Netflix. “Something light or something that'll make us cry?” she asked.

“Light,” I said quickly, sinking deeper into the cushions. I wasn’t ready to confront anything heavy—not tonight.

Liz settled on a cheesy rom-com, and soon the room filled with laughter and ridiculous one-liners. For a while, the tension eased. We sipped our wine, occasionally snorting at the movie’s absurdity. The night blurred into a comforting haze of laughter and warmth, and before I knew it, my eyelids grew heavy.

By the time the credits rolled, Liz was already dozing, her head tilted back against the armrest. I set my empty glass on the table, curling up under the thick throw blanket she’d draped over us earlier. The weight of the evening slowly lifted as sleep pulled me under, the glow of the city skyline beyond the windows casting soft shadows across the room.