Page 66 of Mafia King's Bride

I turn to her, my expression carefully neutral. “He’s Ana’s family. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She scoffs, seeing right through me as always. “You’re playing host because of Ana, but we both know you’re keeping your guard up.”

I allow a small smirk. “Nothing escapes you, does it?”

“Not when it comes to you, brother,” she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

As Ana introduces Viktor to Yelena, I observe their interaction closely. He carries himself with confidence, but there’s a wariness in his eyes when they meet mine. Good. He’s not a fool.

Yelena, ever the social butterfly, swoops in to introduce herself. I watch with amusement as Viktor falls under her spell, just like countless men before him. This could be entertaining.

When Yelena insists on a family dinner, I see Viktor’s resolve crumble. Poor man doesn’t stand a chance against her charm.

Later, in my bedroom, Ana asks, “What do you think about Viktor and Yelena? They seemed to like each other. Would that bother you?”

I pull her close, silencing her with a deep kiss. She melts against me, and for a moment, I forget about everything else.

“If my sister is happy, I wouldn’t interfere,” I murmur against her lips. “But if he hurts her, there will be consequences.”

Ana nods, understanding the weight of my words. I’m about to show her just how much I’ve missed her when my phone rings. Irritation flares, but I know better than to ignore it.

The news from Jakob hits me like a punch to the gut. Our shipment, our containers—all up in flames. Rage burns through me, hot and deadly.

I turn to Ana, my voice cold and controlled. “I have to go. Don’t wait up.”

As I stalk out of the room, my mind is already racing with possibilities. Someone has dared to cross me, to challenge my authority. They’ve made a grave mistake.

Whoever is behind this will learn why I am feared. And they will pay dearly for their transgression. In blood, if necessary.

The game has changed, and I intend to remind everyone why I always come out on top.

TWENTY-FIVE

ANA

I jolt awake, fumbling for my phone like it’s a lifeline. No messages from Dmitri.

Fantastic.

“Come on, you brooding idiot,” I mutter, scrolling through my empty inbox. “Give a girl a sign of life.”

I’ve spent the night tossing and turning, my mind conjuring up increasingly ridiculous scenarios. Maybe he’s joined a secret underground knitting circle. Or he’s been abducted by aliens who needed a crash course in scowling techniques.

As I drag myself to the shower, I catch my reflection. I look like I’ve been hit by the worry truck. “Please don’t be out murdering someone,” I plead to no one in particular.

Because that’s a totally normal concern for a wife to have.

Welcome to the Orlov family, folks!

Downstairs, the house is quieter than a library run by mimes. My phone buzzes—it’s Viktor, with a cryptic “gotta run” message.

“What is this, the Great Bratva Disappearing Act?” I grumble, heading out the door.

At work, I’m a bundle of nerves wrapped in a pantsuit. When my office phone rings, I nearly break my neck sprinting to answer it.

“Hello?” I say, breathless.

“Ana.” It’s Dmitri, sounding like he’s been gargling gravel. “Anastasia.”

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