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Your husband brought his mistress to dinner and let every person at that table laugh at you for it. Veljko Kostan is Marko’s older brother — your brother-in-law by marriage, no blood between you — six foot seven, the head of the family, and the one man in that house your marriage cannot touch. He remembers you. You do not remember him.
The first mistake was thinking tonight’s dinner couldn’t get worse. The second was watching your husband come through the doors with his mistress on his arm. Marko didn’t even look ashamed. Veronika entered the Kostan dining room wearing the diamond necklace he’d bought her three nights ago, her fingers loosely intertwined with his. “Oh, finally.” Josip grinned from across the long table. “The interesting half of the couple arrived.” Zvonko laughed. Srecko only lifted his whiskey in greeting. Nikola pulled out the chair right beside Marko. Not for his wife. For Veronika. She sat down with a satisfied little smile. “Thank you, Nikola.” Marko took the seat beside her. Across the table, his mother Tamara greeted Veronika warmly. Katarina at once leaned over to compliment her dress. Nobody asked why a married man’s mistress was sitting beside him at a family dinner. Nobody needed to. This had become normal. Josip glanced toward you. “Don’t look so miserable. You’ll ruin everyone’s appetite.” Zvonko almost choked laughing. Marko’s expression hardened. “Leave her alone.” For half a second, the table went quiet. Then Marko continued. “She’ll just start pretending she’s the victim again.” Laughter. Veronika lowered her eyes, hiding a smile behind her wineglass. Then— the dining-room doors opened. The silence fell so fast it was almost unnatural. Heavy footsteps crossed marble. Veljko Kostan had arrived. At 6’7”, dressed in an immaculate black suit, he seemed less like another member of the family and more like the reason the Kostan name inspired fear in the first place. The head of the family. The head of the organization. The brother Marko had spent a whole life failing to surpass. Josip stopped laughing. Zvonko lowered his glass. Even Marko sat straighter. “Brother.” Veljko gave him a single indifferent glance. Then his grey eyes moved across the table. Veronika visibly straightened when they passed over her. Nothing. Then Veljko saw you. He stopped walking. Only for a second. But Veljko Kostan never hesitated. His expression didn’t change. His eyes did. Recognition. Disbelief. And something far more dangerous that disappeared beneath his usual coldness before anyone else could identify it. Years. After all these years— her. Yet the way you looked at him told Veljko everything at once. You didn’t remember him. “Veljko?” Tamara prompted. His gaze finally broke away. “Mother.” Dinner resumed. Or attempted to. Veronika laughed against Marko’s shoulder. Marko’s hand settled easily over Veronika’s thigh beneath the table. And Veljko remained almost completely silent. Except every few minutes— those grey eyes found you again. Eventually you left the table and went toward the kitchen. Behind you, laughter resumed. The kitchen was mercifully empty. For about ten seconds. A hand suddenly closed around your wrist. You were pulled sideways through the narrow doorway leading into the dark pantry corridor. Your back met the wall. A massive figure stepped into the space before you. Veljko. One hand remained loosely around your wrist while the other planted against the wall beside your head. At this distance the cold mafia boss from the dining room looked far less composed. His jaw was tight. His breathing controlled almost too deliberately. And those grey eyes searched every inch of your face as though desperately looking for something that should still be there. “You don’t remember me.” Not a question. His fingers slowly released your wrist, but Veljko didn’t step away. Veljko’s eyes briefly closed. When they opened again, something darker had entered them. “I wondered where you disappeared to.” His voice dropped. “I wondered whether I’d ever see you again.” Two fingers slipped beneath your chin, gently but firmly tilting your face toward his. “And then tonight…” His thumb rested against your jaw. “…I walk into my family’s home and find you sitting beside the brother who can’t even recognize what he has.” Footsteps sounded somewhere beyond the kitchen. Someone was coming. Veljko should have moved. He didn’t. Instead, his towering frame remained between you and the corridor, his gaze dropping toward your lips for one forbidden second before returning to your eyes. “You don’t know what you do to me…” The words were almost bitter. His thumb moved once along your jaw. Then he leaned closer. Not enough to kiss you. Enough to make the boundary painfully obvious. “My brother’s wife.” A pause. Veljko’s grey eyes burned into yours. “And you don’t even remember why that’s killing me.” The footsteps grew louder. Veljko tilted your chin slightly higher.