The Mafia's Baker

MILANA'S POV :

The bell above the bakery door rang. "Welcome!" I looked up from arranging freshly baked croissants and paused. It was him, again—the tall man from Alexei's birthday. He wore a charcoal-gray suit, his coat draped neatly over one arm, and just like before, his expression remained unreadable.

"Good morning."

I smiled politely. "Good morning, Sir."

He glanced around; it was still early, and only a few customers sat at the tables.

"What would you like to order?"

He studied the display for a moment. "The same bread you recommended last time. The sourdough." He nodded. "And black coffee. No sugar."

I blinked in surprise. "You remembered?"

His lips curved into the faintest smile. "I did."

---

Aunt Nina leaned close to me. "Milana..."

I whispered back, "What?"

"That handsome customer has been staring at you since he walked in."

I almost dropped the coffee cup. "Aunt!"

"What? I'm just saying."

I sighed. "He's probably just waiting for his order."

She raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

---

DMITRI'S POV :

"Seb."

"Yes, Boss?"

"You don't need to wait inside."

Seb glanced around the small shop. "You sure?"

"Yes. I'll be out here later."

As Seb walked back to the car, he smiled to himself. His boss—the man who hated crowded places—was voluntarily sitting inside a tiny neighborhood bakery. If that wasn't love, he didn't know what was.

---

MILANA'S POV :

I brought his coffee over to the table. "Here you go."

"Thank you."

As I turned to leave, he spoke again. "Miss..."

I looked back. "Yes?"

"I never got your name."

I smiled. "Milana."

He repeated it quietly. "Milana." Hearing my name in his deep voice sounded strangely different. "And yours?"

For a split second, he hesitated. "Dmitri."

"It's nice to meet you properly, Mr. Dmitri."

He nodded once. "The pleasure is mine."

The bakery grew busier, and I moved between customers—serving coffee, packing bread, taking orders. When I finally had a moment to breathe, I noticed something odd: Dmitri was still there. His coffee had gone cold, his bread untouched. Instead, he was watching people—or rather, watching me work.

---

DMITRI'S POV :

She never stopped moving. She greeted everyone with a smile, helped an elderly man carry his things, played peek-a-boo with a toddler while his mother paid. When someone dropped a tray of pastries, she just laughed softly. "It's okay, I'll clean it up." No irritation, no complaints—just kindness. It felt refreshing.

The door opened and three teenage boys walked in. One smiled the moment he saw her. "Morning, Mila."

She laughed. "You're early today."

"We came for your chocolate muffins." He scratched the back of his neck. "And maybe... to see you."

His friends laughed, and Milana blushed slightly. "You're such a tease."

"I mean it."

"I'll save one for you," she said, shaking her head. "But no special treatment."

From my table, I watched quietly. For reasons I couldn't explain, I didn't like it—not one bit.

---

MILANA'S POV :

When the boys left, I wiped the counter and found Dmitri standing beside me. "Would you like anything else?"

He looked toward the empty doorway. "Who was that?"

"The boy?" He nodded. "Oh, he's just a regular customer. Comes in almost every week."

"He likes you."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The way he looked at you."

I laughed softly. "You're mistaken. He flirts with everyone."

"I don't think so." His serious tone made me laugh harder.

"Are you... jealous?" The words slipped out before I could stop them. Silence fell between us, and my eyes widened. "Oh my goodness, I'm sorry—I didn't mean—"

To my surprise, the corner of his lips lifted just slightly. "Maybe."

I froze. Did he just admit that?

---

DMITRI'S POV :

She looked completely speechless. Cute—very cute. Before she could reply, the bakery phone rang, and she excused herself to answer it, leaving me alone by the counter.

Aunt Nina stepped up beside me. "So..."

I greeted her politely. "Good morning."

She smiled knowingly. "You like my niece."

I nearly choked. "Pardon?"

"You've been here four times this week. Buy one loaf of bread... and stay for over an hour. You don't fool an old woman."

I couldn't argue—she was right.

She folded her arms. "Let me give you one piece of advice. If you're serious about Milana, don't make promises you can't keep. That girl has already lost enough people."

My expression softened. "I understand."

"And..." Her tone firmed. "If anyone hurts her... they'll answer to me first."

A quiet laugh escaped me. "I believe they will."

---

SOKOLOV MANSION

That evening when I arrived home, expensive bags littered the living room floor—designer dresses, jewelry, luxury shoes. Victoria Romanova twirled happily in front of a mirror and rushed over, holding up a white gown. "You're home! What do you think of our wedding dress?"

My face turned cold. "What is this?"

"Our wedding dress."

"There is no wedding."

Her smile faltered. "Your grandmother already approved everything."

"I didn't."

"You'll change your mind."

"I won't."

Her cheerful look faded. "You're embarrassing me."

I met her gaze without emotion. "I'm preventing a mistake."

She clenched her fists. "You're mine, Dmitri."

"No." My answer was immediate. "I belong to no one."

I walked past her and left the room, leaving her standing alone. Her nails dug into her palms—for the first time, someone had rejected her. And she hated it.

---

Later that night, Victoria sat alone, pulling up the photo from the birthday party. Her eyes fixed on Milana's bright smile.

"So..." she whispered, a cruel smile slowly spreading. "You're the reason. Let's see how long that smile lasts."