C133 Can I?

Mikhail’s eyes followed Annabelle as she stepped gingerly out of her room and onto the landing.

She looked pale and her movements unsteady, as if the weight of her thoughts had drained every ounce of energy from her body.

She had not bothered to tame her hair which was a tousled mess that somehow still managed to look stunning.

It tumbled over her shoulders, catching the faint sunlight filtering through the window.

She wore a simple sweater and jeans, yet to Mikhail, she looked like she carried the world on her shoulders.

Mikhail tried to keep his gaze straight ahead, but it was nearly impossible not to steal glances at her.

She seemed like a storm and a sanctuary all at once.

And in her current fragile state, she seemed even more captivating.

Behind them, the faint sound of a piano abruptly stopped.

Mikhail turned his head just enough to see Antonia emerging from the music room.

She spotted them instantly.

Her sharp eyes lit up with mischief as she smirked and threw him a quick wink before vanishing down another corridor, leaving before Annabelle could notice.

Mikhail clenched his jaw. Antonia was full of shit, and she knew it.

For weeks now, she had been needling him at every opportunity with her theory that Annabelle liked him.

That she loved him even, but was stuck playing the part of Dante’s woman out of gratitude or obligation.

Antonia’s words lingered in his mind, whether he wanted them to or not.

Mikhail owed nearly everything in his life to Dante.

His whole family does.

Mikhail was more than aware that others would have found a way to wipe his family out a long while after his father’s sudden decline.

Until recently, Mikhail couldn’t fool himself that he had been any definition of what anyone would call a mafia lord.

Dante had been carrying his ass for so long and he was only just beginning to step up to his duties recently without trying to fight it.

The thought of stepping out of line where Dante was concerned was anathema. But then, there was Annabelle.

He had been drawn to her from the moment he saw her in front of that hospital, her face a mixture of strength and vulnerability.

When he saw her again at the estate and realised she was with Dante, it had been a gut punch. Dante always got what he wanted, and Mikhail had no intention of interfering with that.

Still, stepping aside hadn’t been easy.

His attraction to Annabelle was magnetic, and Mikhail had struggled to suppress the pull he felt toward her.

His teasing and casual flirtations were nothing more than a mask, a way to redirect feelings he knew he couldn’t act on. He’d told himself that her apparent affection for Dante made it easier to stay in his lane.

But Antonia’s incessant whispers about how Annabelle was forced into being with Dante had stirred something dangerous in him.

If it was true, if Annabelle didn’t want Dante…if she wanted him instead…it changed everything.

Mikhail shook his head as they walked further onto the estate grounds.

This was Dante they were talking about.

Dante, who had claimed this city and commanded loyalty from everyone, including Mikhail.

His job was to find Dante, not to entertain impossible thoughts about Annabelle.

Yet, when he’d heard about her panic attack, something inside him had snapped.

He still didn’t know what had caused it but he supposed almost getting kidnapped in a place you thought was safe would do that to anyone.

He remembered being in the middle of interrogating a lead, his focus razor-sharp, until one of the staff had called to inform him of her condition.

His mind had instantly been consumed by the image of her crumbling under the weight of whatever demons plagued her.

That call had lingered in his thoughts throughout the week, haunting him as much as his fruitless search for Dante.

“I can just tell that she is waiting for you. She needed someone whom she really cared for to help her out of wherever her mind was at the moment. She wouldn’t listen to me,” Antonia had told him in different variations in the past days that he had finally given in.

Annabelle had refused his offer for a walk earlier, and he’d left her room feeling both relieved and disappointed.

Relieved because her rejection meant she might not see him as anything more than Dante’s man.

Disappointed because a part of him…a part he hated to admit existed…had hoped Antonia was right.

That maybe Annabelle was waiting for him to save her.

Then, just as he was about to leave, she’d called out to him.

Her voice had been soft, hesitant, but it had sent a jolt through him.

Her decision to take that walk with him had been an unexpected victory.

And the feeling it gave him was the best he’d experienced since this entire mess began.

He glanced sideways at her, stealing another look as they walked in silence.

Her gaze was fixed on the path ahead with her expression unreadable.

Did she truly love him?

Could she really be waiting for him, as Antonia suggested?

The idea was absurd. And yet...

“What are you thinking about?” Annabelle’s voice broke the silence, startling him.

He blinked, realising he’d been staring too long. “Just wondering how you’re feeling,” he replied smoothly.

She let out a small sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It feels like everything is spiralling out of control. Like I don’t even know who I can trust anymore.”

Mikhail’s chest tightened at her words. “You can trust me,” he said before he could stop himself.

Annabelle’s eyes flicked to him, searching his face. “Can I?”

The weight of her gaze was almost too much to bear. He nodded. “Yes. You can.”

For a moment, something unreadable flashed across her face.

But then she turned away, her focus returning to the path.

Mikhail resisted the urge to press further.

He knew better than to push her when she was like this.

Still, her words hung in the air between them, a fragile thread connecting them in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted to untangle.

As they reached the edge of the estate grounds, Mikhail slowed his pace, letting Annabelle take the lead.

The sunlight filtering through the trees cast dappled shadows across her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw and the soft strands of hair that framed her features.

He told himself to look away and to focus on the task at hand.

Finding Dante was what mattered. Protecting Annabelle was what mattered.

But as they continued their walk, the doubts Antonia had planted in his mind refused to be silenced.

Could Annabelle really be waiting for him?

And if she was, what the hell was he supposed to do about it?