Page 69 of Mafia King's Bride

Jakob knocks and enters, dropping an envelope on my desk.

“This came for you, sir.”

I glance at it. A butcher shop logo. Not just any butcher shop—a front for one of the Bratva’s more unsavory operations.

I smile, tearing it open and reading the note inside:

How would you like your meat handled?

I think of what I told Ana the other day and her agreement to stand by me.

I grab my pen, scribbling on the back of the note:

Home delivery. Make sure it’s well received.

Once Jakob leaves to handle the message, I try to return my focus to work. But my phone rings, and I see an unknown number on the screen.

Probably Bianchi, I think, ready to listen to whatever pathetic offer he might have.

“Is this Mr. Orlov?” The voice on the other end is unfamiliar. “This is Aaron, from the florist shop. You asked me to send a bouquet to your wife?”

“Yes,” I reply, already irritated.

“She wasn’t in the office.”

I stop, my gut twisting. “Did you leave it with someone?”

“No, sir. They said she hasn’t been in today. No one would take the flowers on her behalf there, so I thought I’d call.”

My stomach tightens, a gnawing sense of dread building in my chest. Something’s wrong. I stand up abruptly, heading forthe door. I need to tell Jakob to start looking for her. My pulse quickens, and it feels like I’ve just been hit in the gut.

“Sir? What would you like me to do?” the florist asks, his voice fading into the background of my thoughts.

“Are you still at her office?” I ask, striding through the lobby.

“Yes, sir.”

“Who told you she wasn’t there?”

“I spoke to a guy named Maxwell. Said she hadn’t been in all day and that her car wasn’t there either.”

I hang up, bolt for my car, and start the engine. I speed out of the parking lot, my mind whirling. She wouldn’t just disappear. Would she?

Ana’s strong—tougher than most—but that doesn’t stop the fear creeping in. I’ve pissed off enough people to know how vulnerable she could be if someone decided to use her against me.

I punch the accelerator, my mind stuck on the thought that Ana might be in danger.

She can’t be gone.

Not the woman I’ve started to fall for, despite everything inside me telling me to stay cold, to stay ruthless.

Trying not to panic, I dial Ana’s number, but as I feared, her phone’s switched off.

The only other time her phone was off was when she went drinking, and it died on her after a full day. But it’s not even noon; I saw her this morning.

Somebody must know where she is.

After hours of driving, calling my men and asking them to look into people of interest, I find myself in front of Nikolai Petrov’s building. Ana said she hadn’t spoken to him in months, but I know he must be plotting something—maybe he’s finally decided to carry out his plan. Maybe he’s taken her, blaming my enemies, forcing me into a war.

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