The Mafia's Baker

MILANA'S POV :

The smell of freshly baked bread greeted me long before the sun rose. It was five in the morning, and while most people in Moscow were still asleep, the lights inside Aunt Nina's Bakery had already been on for hours.

"Milana!" a familiar voice echoed from the kitchen. "Your cinnamon rolls are burning!"

"Oh no!" I hurried toward the oven and quickly pulled out the tray. "Saved them."

My aunt, Nina Orlova, laughed as she shook her head. "One day you'll become the owner of this bakery."

I smiled while placing the warm pastries onto the cooling rack. "Only if you promise not to retire yet."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because I'd miss hearing you yell at me every morning."

She playfully smacked my arm with a kitchen towel. "You cheeky girl." We both laughed. Moments like these were my favorite—simple, peaceful, home.

 ---

I never knew my real parents. According to Aunt Nina, they died when I was still a baby. She never told me much about them, only that they loved me and that fate had simply been cruel. I stopped asking years ago because no matter who had given me life, the woman standing in front of me was the one who raised me. She was my family.

 ---

The bell above the bakery door rang; our first customer had arrived. "Good morning!" an elderly woman smiled warmly. "The usual, dear."

"Coming right up." As I packed her bread, she looked at me with kind eyes. "You always have the prettiest smile."

I laughed softly. "I learned it from my aunt."

The old woman chuckled before leaving. "She's going to make someone very lucky one day."

I pretended not to hear. Romance wasn't exactly a priority, not when there were bills to pay.

 ---

Around noon, a delivery order arrived: a large birthday cake, three boxes of cupcakes, cookies shaped like little dinosaurs, and several trays of pastries. I looked at the order form—Customer: Sokolov Estate.

I blinked. "The Sokolovs?" Even I had heard of them; one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Russia. People whispered about them—some admired them, others feared them.

Aunt Nina tied the ribbon around the cake box. "They've been ordering from us for years."

"Really?"

She nodded. "The little birthday boy loves our cakes."

I carefully picked up the order. "I'll deliver it."

"Be careful."

"I always am." She kissed my forehead before I left.

 ---

The Sokolov Estate looked more like a palace than a house—tall iron gates, elegant gardens, luxury cars lined the driveway. I quietly stared through the car window, wondering how many people even lived here. The security guard checked my delivery slip before opening the gate, and as I stepped out, a little boy came running toward me.

"You brought my cake!" He couldn't have been older than six, his bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

I smiled. "I did."

"Can I see it?"

"Only if you promise not to eat it before everyone sings."

He giggled. "I promise!"

A woman wearing a maid's uniform approached. "Young Master Alexei, you shouldn't bother the delivery lady."

"It's okay," I smiled. "He's adorable."

Alexei proudly held my hand. "Come! I want to show you my dinosaurs!" Before I could politely refuse, he had already dragged me toward the garden. Children laughed around colorful decorations and balloons floated in the air—everything looked perfect.

--- 

DMITRI'S POV :

Children's birthday parties weren't exactly my favorite place. I'd rather be dealing with business, or meetings, or anything that didn't involve cartoon mascots. But Alexei, my nephew, only celebrated his birthday once a year, and I'd never miss it.

I stood near the balcony overlooking the garden, a cup of black coffee in one hand, when my younger brother approached. "You look like you're attending a funeral."

"I hate crowds."

He laughed. "You've scared half the guests already."

"I wasn't trying."

"I know." That was the problem—people feared me. It wasn't something I enjoyed, it was simply necessary.

--- 

Suddenly, Alexei's laughter echoed across the garden. "Uncle Mitya!" I looked down and saw my nephew running toward me, holding the hand of a girl. She wore a simple cream-colored dress dusted with a little flour near the sleeve—probably from the bakery. Her long chestnut hair danced with the breeze; she wasn't covered in expensive jewelry or wearing designer clothes, yet somehow she stood out more than anyone else at the party.

Alexei stopped in front of me. "Uncle! This is the cake lady!"

The young woman immediately bowed her head politely. "Good afternoon, Sir. I delivered your nephew's birthday cake." Her voice was gentle, calm, different. I looked into her warm hazel eyes and for a brief moment, the noise around us disappeared—it was just her.

"Thank you," the words left my mouth before I even realized it.

She smiled—a simple, honest smile, unlike the fake smiles I saw every day. "It was my pleasure."

Alexei tugged at her sleeve. "Can you stay until I blow the candles?"

She looked embarrassed. "I still have work."

The disappointment on Alexei's face was obvious, so before she could answer, I spoke. "Stay. I'll pay for your time."

She quickly shook her head. "No. I don't need extra money. I promised my aunt I'd return as soon as I finished the delivery." Without waiting for another word, she bowed politely once again. "Happy birthday to your nephew." Then she walked away, slowly disappearing through the garden gate.

--- 

For the first time in years, I found myself watching someone leave. Instead of wanting them gone, I wanted to know who she was.

 ---

DMITRI'S POV :

"Uncle?" Alexei tilted his head. "Why are you looking at the gate?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I asked the head of security one simple question. "The girl. Find out who she is."

The guard nodded immediately. "Yes, Boss."

I took one last look at the road where she had disappeared. I didn't know her name, didn't know where she lived, didn't know anything about her—but for some reason, I had a feeling this wouldn't be our last meeting. Not even close.