Page 69 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

I try her phone again, making a mental note to let Zara know about appropriate meeting lengths. And the importance of answering her goddamn phone.

But she doesn’t pick up. Yet again. I wish I had asked for Carl’s number.

My fingers drum against my glass as I consider my next move.

"Think, Abram," I mutter to myself. "Where would she go?"

I could look for the studio address. But I find nothing online. It’s like he’s a ghost. Something doesn't feel right. My gut twists with an uneasy suspicion.

I pull out my phone again, dialing a familiar number.

"Alexei," I bark at one of my lankies when he answers. "I need information on Damien Levi. Now. He’s a reclusive painter."

"Damien Levi?" Alexei's voice crackles through the speaker. "Give me a moment, Boss."

"Boss," Alexei's voice returns after ten minutes. "You're not going to like this."

My grip tightens on the glass. "Spit it out."

"Levi's not in the country. Our sources confirm he's been in Paris for the last two weeks."

"Fuck," I hiss. "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely. He has a show opening there next week."

My mind races. If Levi is in Europe, then where the hell is Zara? And who is she meeting?

"Keep an eye on Levi," I order Alexei. "I want to know everything about his movements, his contacts, anyone who might be using his name."

I end the call, my suspicion now a full-blown certainty that something is very, very wrong.

"Oh, Zara," I murmur. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

The memory of her being kidnapped rushes back with haunting fury. All I can think about is Zara—her wide, innocent eyes, her soft skin, the way she fits perfectly in my arms. The thought of anyone else touching her, hurting her…

A growl rises in my throat. Whoever's behind this will pay. I'll make sure of it.

But first, I have to find her. And I will. No matter what it takes.

My fingers fly across the phone's screen, muscle memory taking over as I dial the familiar numbers. One by one, my brothers answer.

"Vladimir. Denis. Mark." I bark out their names, my voice tight with barely contained fury. "I need you. Now."

There's a brief pause before Vladimir, ever the strategist, speaks. "What's happened, Abram?"

"Zara's missing," I growl, pacing the length of my study. "And I suspect foul play."

Denis's low whistle crackles through the speaker. "Shit, Brother. We're on our way."

I end the call, my mind already racing ahead. Within a quarter of an hour, my brothers arrive, their faces grim and determined. We gather in the living room, the air thick with tension.

"Talk to us," Mark says, leaning forward, his piercing gaze fixed on me.

I run a hand through my hair, frustration evident in every movement. "She went to meet an artist, but he's not even in the country. I've tried calling, tracking her phone—nothing."

Vladimir's brow furrows. "What about her car's GPS?"

A bitter laugh escapes me. "Encrypted. My own damn security measures to keep her safe are working against us now."

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