Her Majesty's revenge..

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝘿𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙢𝙖

Maya leaned against the doorframe, hesitant to enter. The palace was too big, too quiet, yet somehow she could always sense where Adrian was. And there he was—standing by the tall window of his study, the late afternoon sun painting him in warm gold.

“You should be resting,” his voice came, deep and gentle, though his eyes never left hers.

She smiled faintly. “I couldn’t. The walls felt… empty without seeing you.”

That made his heart jolt. He masked it with a slow, careful smile, but inside, something tightened. For a man who had walked through gunfire without flinching, those words hit harder than any bullet.

She stepped closer, the soft rustle of her clothes whispering in the quiet. Her skin still looked delicate from the recent fevers, but her spirit was stubborn as ever. Adrian found himself staring—really staring—at her, memorizing the way light caught in her hair, the way her lashes lowered when she avoided his gaze.

My wife…

The thought came uninvited, sharp and certain. He could see it—her walking through these halls as the queen of his world, not as a guest. But then the shadow of his reality crept in. The blood in his hands, the enemies at his door, the constant danger that followed him like a curse.

If she wore his name, she’d also wear his battles. And that was the one thing he could never allow.

Maya broke the silence, stepping to his desk and gently touching the bandaged shoulder. “Does it still hurt?”

His eyes softened instantly. “Only when you cry.”

Her breath caught, heat blooming in her cheeks. He didn’t pull away; instead, his hand came up, fingers brushing over hers, holding them there as if to keep her from vanishing.

For a moment, the air between them was too still, too charged. She felt the weight of his gaze, like he could strip away every wall she’d built.

“I was worried,” she admitted softly. “Really worried.”

Adrian smiled, but it was a smile filled with restraint. If you knew, little one… how much I’ve worried for you every single day.

He wanted to tell her everything—how he had watched her from the shadows, how he had built walls around her without her knowing, how he would burn his empire to ash if it meant keeping her safe. But the words stayed locked behind his teeth.

Instead, he lifted her hand and pressed it against his chest, letting her feel the steady thud of his heart. “You’re safe here,” he murmured.

And though he said nothing more, in his mind, the vow was loud and unshakable—

You’ll always be safe with me, even if it means I can never call you mine.

_______________________________________

It had been three days since that quiet conversation in Adrian’s study, yet the memory refused to leave Maya’s mind.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the way he had looked at her—soft, almost tender—like she was the only thing in his world worth protecting. And when he’d held her hand against his chest… she could still feel the steady thud beneath her palm.

That memory alone was enough to make her cheeks flush, even now as she stood in the middle of her small store, dusting shelves.

Her fingers tightened around the cloth as a silly little smile tugged at her lips. What was that? Why did he look at me like that? She shook her head quickly, scolding herself. “Stop it, Maya… he’s not—”

But the warmth in her chest wouldn’t leave.

She pressed the cloth harder against the glass counter, trying to scrub away not just the dust, but the foolish daydreams that kept creeping in. “He’s a mafia king,” she whispered to herself. “He’s not… yours. He’s dangerous. And you’re… just a*****e owner.”

The truth was, she didn’t even know why she was letting herself think this way. Adrian wasn’t the type of man who loved. If anything, she was probably just a distraction for him—a temporary fascination. Maybe his only plaything until he got bored.

That thought hit her harder than she expected.

Her movements slowed. She stared at her reflection in the shop window, her lips pressing into a thin line. The faint blush on her cheeks felt like a betrayal. “No, Maya… don’t be stupid. This isn’t a fairy tale.”

She’d seen enough of life to know the difference between fantasy and reality.

Everyone had their fictional crushes—the kind of men you knew didn’t exist outside of books and movies. And Adrian… well, he was the living embodiment of one of those characters. The kind that made your heart race, your mind spin, your skin tingle with just a glance.

But he wasn’t fictional.

And reality had a cruel way of reminding you who people really were.

She didn’t have to look far into her memory to remember exactly what kind of man Adrian was. Eight years ago, when she was just a teenager, the stories—how a single night had changed the underworld forever. Adrian had risen then, covered in the blood of men who’d dared to cross him. She still remembered the way the city had gone eerily silent for weeks, how shopkeepers had locked their doors early, and how everyone avoided speaking his name out loud.

And back then, she had hated him.

Because one of those nights, her own life had nearly been caught in the crossfire.

The thought pulled her out of her daydreams like a bucket of cold water.

Her blush vanished, replaced by a hollow ache in her chest.

“He’s not yours,” she murmured under her breath. “And he never will be.”

She set the dusting cloth down on the counter, leaning her hands against it as if she could steady herself that way.

Maybe she admired him in some twisted way, maybe she even cared—but love? No. She couldn’t let it be that.

Because loving a man like Adrian meant stepping into his world, and his world was built on danger, shadows, and blood. And Maya… Maya wasn’t made for that.

She told herself again that it was just a crush. Just like all those harmless obsessions people had over untouchable fictional men. Except this time, the man wasn’t made of paper and ink. He was real. And that was exactly what made him dangerous.

Still… no matter how many times she told herself to stop, she couldn’t ignore one simple truth.

Her heart always beat faster when she thought of him.