Keeping my Mafia Husband
The man I married, the one who made me feel wanted, protected, does not treat me like a side piece.
As I open my door, I nearly scream.
Pavel is crouched right outside, holding his puppy and watching my door like a horror movie extra.
My heart flips before I realize it is him. “What are you doing?”
He looks up, serious. “Pretty likes me more now.”
“Oh.” I blink, still catching my breath. “That’s… nice. Hi, Pretty.”
The moment I wave, the puppy wags his tail furiously, wiggling to get free. But Pavel holds him tighter.