Mafia King’s Bride

34. Dmitri

THIRTY-FOUR

DMITRI

The bouquet of carnations feels heavy in my hand as I stride down the hallway toward Ana’s office. This impromptu visit isn’t my usual style, but being near her workplace, I couldn’t resist. Her smile has become a temptation I find increasingly difficult to deny.

I knock on her door, anticipation building in my chest. Silence. I knock again, harder this time. Still nothing. Strange. I try the handle—locked.

Unease settles in my gut. I call her phone, then send a text when she doesn’t pick up. No response.

“What’s going on?” I mutter, sending another text. Perhaps I should have called beforehand. I’m trying to match Ana’s romantic gestures of the past few days. After her melancholy mood last night, I thought she could use some cheering up.

“Hi.” A voice interrupts my thoughts. Some suit is approaching me, all smiles and familiarity. “Are you looking for Anatasia?”

“Yes,” I nod curtly. “I’m her husband, Dmitri Orlov.” The words come out more possessive than I intend.

His eyes widen with recognition. “You’re the man who swooped in and took Ana from the rest of us. It’s nice to meet you finally. I’m Steve.”

I shake his hand firmly, making sure he feels the strength behind it. A warning.

“Do you know if she’s in a meeting?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

Steve shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Nope, as in you don’t know?”

He sucks his teeth. “I meant that I haven’t seen her today. I stopped by her office hours ago for a document, but it was locked. I tried calling her phone, but she didn’t answer. I assumed she was taking the day off.”

My jaw clenches. “Thank you,” I say curtly, turning to leave.

I storm out of the building onto the bustling Manhattan street, my rage barely contained. The cacophony of car horns and pedestrian chatter fades into white noise as I pull out my phone, dialing Ana’s bodyguards with shaky fingers.

“Where is she?” I snarl as soon as the line connects, not bothering with pleasantries.

There’s a pause, then a confused voice. “Mr. Orlov? We don’t understand. Mrs. Orlov should be in her office.”

My blood boils. “Should be? You fucking idiots! I was just there. She’s not!”

“That’s impossible, sir,” the other guard chimes in, sounding bewildered. “We’ve been monitoring the building entrance all day. She hasn’t left.”

I rake my fingers through my hair, fighting the urge to put my fist through the nearest wall. “Well, she’s not there now, is she? So, tell me, you incompetent fucks, how did my wife vanish from under your noses?”

The guards stammer, clearly at a loss. My mind races, considering the possibilities. Did someone grab her again?

“Sir, we?—”

“Shut up,” I cut them off, my voice low and dangerous. “If anything’s happened to her, I swear I’ll end you both. Slowly. Painfully. Do you understand me?”

Their silence is answer enough.

“Now listen carefully,” I continue, forcing my voice to steady, “I want you to check on every rival we have. Every fucking one. Someone must have seen something. And if you come back empty-handed, don’t bother coming back at all.”

I end the call, resisting the urge to hurl my phone across the street. My mind whirls with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. Who could have taken her? Bianchi’s people seeking revenge? One of the other Bratva groups testing my resolve?

As I stand there, surrounded by the oblivious masses of Manhattan, I’ve never felt more helpless.

I dial Yelena.

“What’s up, brother? Did you miss me? I’m free tomorrow by?—”

“Is Ana with you?” I cut her off, my patience wearing thin.

Her pause speaks volumes. “I haven’t seen her since we parted ways yesterday. What’s wrong? Have you tried calling her? Checking her office?”

I bite back a sarcastic response. “I’ll try Viktor,” I say instead, my voice tight with worry.

Yelena’s attempt at reassurance falls flat. “I’ll try her too. I’m sure nothing happened to her. Probably just an out-of-office meeting or something.”

I hang up and call Viktor, going straight to the point. “Hey, have you heard from Ana today? She’s not in her office. A colleague of hers says he hasn’t seen her all day. She’s not responding to my calls or texts either.”

He sounds puzzled. “No.” It does nothing to ease my growing anxiety.

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 stride into 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 of hurt. 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.

I rise slowly, my eyes never leaving his. “Be careful, Nikolai,” I say, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re playing a game you can’t win. If I find out you’re involved in this…”

I let the threat linger, unspoken but clear as day. He might think he has power, but he has no idea what I’m capable of when it comes to Ana.

I storm out of his office, fury pulsing through my veins with every heartbeat. My mind is already racing, formulating plans, considering every possibility. I bark orders into my phone as I stride to my car, mobilizing my network.

“I want every Bratva hideout, every safe house, every goddamn hole in the wall searched,” I growl to my second-in-command. “No stone unturned, you understand? Use whatever means necessary. Just find her.”