Chapter 6

NOLAN’S POV

The private elevator leading to my office building hummed softly as it took me to the executive floor. The polished steel doors slid open as we arrived. The pristine expanse of the executive floor came into view. The quiet buzz of the city below was almost entirely muted which gave the office space an air of detachment from the chaos of the world outside.

Walking toward my office, I spotted Dimitri leaning against Rebecca’s desk. He was mid-conversation, undoubtedly trying to charm her again. Rebecca’s polite smile failed to mask her discomfort, but Dimitri didn’t seem to care.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Rebecca greeted me, her voice a bit too cheerful as she glanced in my direction, she looked glad someone finally saved her from Dimitri.

“Afternoon,” I replied, my eyes narrowing slightly as I glanced at Dimitri.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” Dimitri said, falling into step with me as I headed for my office. “How’s the future husband-to-be this fine morning? Already practicing your ‘yes, dear’s?” He said with a mischievous look on his face.

Ignoring him, I pushed open the door to my office. Dimitri followed me inside, making himself comfortable on the leather couch as though he owned the place.

“Don’t start, Dimitri,” I muttered as I shrugged off my jacket and tossed it onto the chair.

He leaned back, arms behind his head, “Come on, man, you have to admit it’s hilarious. You, the infamous Nolan Russo, tied down by an arrangement. What’s next? White picket fences and family Christmas cards?” he said as the grin on his face grew wider by the second.

“Funny,” I said dryly as I settled into my chair “You’re enjoying this way too much,” I said with obvious irritation.

“How could I not?” Dimitri chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. “The mighty Nolan Russo, master of his destiny, now playing husband. I should sell tickets to this show.”

“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, flipping through the documents on my desk. The pile seemed to grow by the second, each file representing another problem waiting to be solved. “Now, can we move on to actual work, or do you want to keep rehearsing your stand-up lines?”

Dimitri chuckled, sitting up straighter, finally ready to get down to business. “Fine, fine. Let’s talk business.” He grabbed the tablet from my desk, swiping through the files. “The shipment from Sicily is on track, but the deal in Madrid hit a snag. The client’s getting cold feet—something about increased scrutiny from law enforcement.”

I nodded, my mind already racing through solutions. “Reach out to Matteo. Have him smooth things over. We can’t afford delays on that front. Get him to calm their nerves.”

“Will do,” Dimitri said, “Concerning the weapons cache in Eastern Europe… The locals are getting restless. They want a bigger cut.”

“Offer them a ten percent increase,” I said, as I leaned back into my chair, “But make it clear it’s non-negotiable. We’re not running a charity here. If they don’t agree, find someone else to replace them.”

Dimitri's eyes glinted with amusement as he smirked. “As usual, diplomacy is always your first option”

“Smooth deals help keep the bloodshed to a minimum,” I replied. “Also, it’s better for business. The last thing I need right now is for a fucking deal to go bad.”

“Speaking of bloodshed,” Dimitri said, his tone shifting. He handed me the tablet again, this time with a more serious expression. “We’ve hit another roadblock at the border. Same place as before.”

“Still no progress?” I frowned as I scanned through the report, my irritation becoming obvious.

“None,” Dimitri confirmed, leaning into the chair with his arms crossed. “Every time we try to move goods through that region, it’s like hitting a brick wall. It’s getting harder to bypass them.”

I rubbed my temples in frustration, trying to think of a solution. “Who’s in control of that area? Have we figured out what the issue is yet?”

“Well, about that…” Dimitri hesitated, “It’s Ivanovos.” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The name hit me like a slap. “The Ivanovos?” I repeated.

“Yep,” Dimitri said cautiously. “Your bride-to-be’s family. They’re the ones controlling that territory. From what I’ve heard, they’ve got their fucking claws in everything. Trades, border regulations, local officials. It’s basically their playground.”

“Of course it is,” I muttered under my breath as I slammed the tablet onto the desk. The noise echoed through the room.

Dimitri raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my frustration. “You’re taking this well.”

“Oh, I’m thrilled,” I snapped, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “First, they try to marry their daughter off to me, and now they’re screwing with my business. What next? Redecorating my damn condo?!”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Dimitri said with a grin. “Maybe marrying Anastasia will get us into more countries.”

“Not helping,” I muttered as I glared at him.

“All right, all right. So, what’s the plan?” Dimitri said as he held his hands up in mock surrender. “We can’t keep hitting dead ends.”

I stood from my chair to pour myself a glass of scotch, I took a slow sip, letting the burn of alcohol settle in my chest. “Get me the details of their office. I want to know who to talk to, what strings to pull, and how to end this mess.”

“Consider it done,” Dimitri said, his playful mood shifting into something more serious. “I’ll get you the details when I get to my office.”

As he stood up to leave, I stood still for a moment, staring out the window, my mind racing. The Ivanovos. Of course, it had to be them. The disastrous dinner planned by our parents replayed in my mind and the memory of Anastasia’s sharp tongue and fiery glare that was not easy to forget was burned into my head. I wondered if she knew the chaos her family was causing in my life.

The buzz of my phone interrupted my thoughts. I glanced at the screen. It was a message from Dimitri: “I got the location. Ivanov’s office is on the east side of the city. I’m sending the coordinates now.”

Setting my glass down, I grabbed my jacket and my car keys. It was time to confront Ivanovos head-on. I strode toward the door, my thoughts focused on the confrontation that was about to unfold.

The engine of my car roared to life as I ignited it. Streets blurred past me as I sped out of the parking lot my final destination burned in my mind. Minutes after maneuvering through the city the Ivanovos building came into view, and a tall glass building casting a shadow over the street came into view. Without hesitation, I parket in the empty space and swung the car door open and strode toward the entrance.

“Mr. Russo, you’re expected on the top floor,” the secretary said as I stepped into the reception, not bothering to look up from the computer screen.

“Expected?” I echoed, my jaw tightening.

“Yes,” she replied, finally meeting my eyes. “Your office called in and said you’d be coming. Our President is waiting for you in the office. I’ll lead the way, sir.” She said as she led the way to the elevator.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt longer than it should have, the silence in the air thick with tension. When the doors opened, I stepped into an expansive office space with glass walls that offered an extensive view of the city, and the minimalist design was both cold and intimidating. The air was thick with unspoken power.

I looked toward the huge oak wood table backing the city view, and my eyes landed on the person seated at the desk looking through documents. Chills ran down my spine as my anger flared, my pulse quickening with each step closer.

“You!” I said in a low, menacing growl.