Page 90 of Mafia King's Bride

I sit in my car, mind racing through possibilities. Maybe Yelena is right. Ana might be safe, with a good reason for being unreachable. But in our world, when something can go wrong, it usually does.

After the incident with Bianchi, Igor’s sneaky attempt to switch sides, and Nikolai’s blatant attack disguised as an apology, I know I have many enemies waiting for the right moment to strike.

Thirty minutes of silence feels like an eternity. I keep trying Ana’s number, but now it just switches off immediately. This isn’t right. There might be a reason for her not returning my calls, but not for her phone to be completely off.

Trusting my instincts, I call Igor.

“Dmitri,” he greets, too cheerful. “I was just about to reach out. How are the plans with the casinos? It’s been a while since you said we would open, and we haven’t talked. I know things are going slower than planned, but you could use my help, right? Anything at all, ask.”

“Where are you?” I ask curtly, cutting through his babble.

“Ah,” he pauses, clearly caught off guard. “Do you need me to meet up with you? I could come to your office.”

“Where are you, Pavlov?” I repeat, my tone leaving no room for evasion.

He clears his throat. “I came to...um...it’s a place where you find entertainment,” he whispers, and I hear a flirty giggle in the background.

I roll my eyes. He doesn’t have the guts to take my wife and use her against me. Igor Pavlov is a weakling who survives by siding with whoever has the upper hand. The only reason he’s stayed alive this long is that he knows not to get too deeply involved.

“Do I come over?” he asks, but I end the call without responding.

I toss my phone onto the passenger seat in frustration, running my fingers through my hair. Where could Ana be? She only goes to a few places—home, work, shopping, and lately, her father’s house.

My blood runs cold at the last thought. Nikolai. The first time she went missing, I went there. Would he know her whereabouts now?

I start the car, tires screeching as I pull out. I’ll tear this city apart if I have to, but I will find Ana. And God help anyone who’s laid a finger on her.

I strideinto Nikolai’s office, tension coiling in every muscle. His first words catch me off guard.

“What happened to Ana?”

I keep my voice level, eyes scanning for any tell. “Why do you think something happened to her?”

He smiles grimly, adjusting his cufflinks. The fact that he remains seated isn’t lost on me. A subtle power play—this is his territory, not mine.

“There’s no other reason for you to be in my office, Orlov. You know we can never agree on anything because you’ll always see me as the man who betrayed your father.”

I chuckle darkly. “That is what you are, Nikolai. Why should I take away a title that’s rightfully yours? But yes, you’re right. I fear Ana might be in trouble. She’s visited you frequently lately. Do you know where she might be?”

Nikolai shrugs, his nonchalance grating on my nerves. “My daughter and I have only begun working through months ofhurt. She wouldn’t tell me anything about her life, and I don’t think I’ve earned the right to ask.”

His next words are calculated to wound. “I heard about Bianchi. You let my daughter get taken by that barbarian because you were careless. I’m sure one of them has taken her again. You claim to be smarter than your enemies, but they hurt the woman you vowed to protect.”

Despite the heavy accusation, I sense detachment in Nikolai. It’s as if he rehearsed this speech, like he knew about Ana’s disappearance before I arrived.

Time to show my hand. I sit down uninvited, a mean smile curling my lips as I drum my fingers on his desk. “What’s your game here? To paint me as a weak man?”

He shrugs. “If that’s what you are, that’s what it is. After all, what can be said for a man who takes a woman as his wife and then throws her to the wolves? We might be thieves, Dmitri, but we still value our reputations.”

“And a hypocrite?” I spit back. “A man who sells his daughter instead of begging for his own head to be on the gallows, what would you call him?”

He grins, leaning back. “Touché. If you must know, I don’t know where she is. We’re supposed to have dinner tomorrow. If she shows, I’ll tell her you came looking. If not, I’ll assume you threw her out.”

“I would never,” I growl, my eyes boring into him.

“Then go find her,” he says, his tone darkening. “Don’t come to me. You took my only child. And mind you, don’t think that because I’m sitting here calmly, I won’t come after you if anything happens to her. I will, with everything I’ve got.”

His words hang in the air, a thinly veiled threat that makes my blood boil. For a moment, I consider ending him on the spot. It would be so easy to reach across the desk and snap his neck.

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