Page 44 of Forced Bratva Bride

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

I continue to chat with Angelo, who asks how we are managing to get the warehouse back together and how much stock we actually lost, but my eye is on Chiara. I can’t help but keep track of her, always wanting to know she's alright.

She stands at the bar, ordering her father’s drink.

Stefano arrives next to her, leaning on the counter, and speaking to her with that same sour look on his face that he always wears.

She shakes her head, no, and he nods.

He seems to become upset, and she sighs. He reaches out to grip her arm, and she pulls it back. But then she follows him to the side of the patio, away from everyone else.

I hate the fact that she is cornered by him like that.

I excuse myself from Angelo, telling him I just need to chat to someone I’ve been waiting to see, and then walk toward Chiara. I stop just short of interrupting them and stand with my back against the wall, looking down at my phone. I can hear their conversation and see that it is getting heated.

“It was the Dubrovs,” Stefano hisses in an angry whisper.

“How can you say that? Their warehouse was just attacked.”

“So was mine. One of my shipments was stolen, and I know it was them. They probably blew up their own warehouse to take attention off what they are really doing behind the scenes.”

“You are so full of shit, Stefano. What happened to your shipment? Why do you say it was stolen?”

“Because it was stolen. How stupid can you be? It was taken by those brothers. Don’t you get it? They are doing everything they can to take our family down. They probably only arranged this marriage to try and get into our business. They are orchestrating something big, building up to it one attack at a time. I'm getting sick and tired of having to be polite to these dickheads.”

Stefano is leaning toward Chiara with his fists clenched. His aggressive posture is setting me on edge. And the way he is talking to my wife has me edging closer, ready to smack my fist into his face.

I grit my teeth and do my best not to interfere. Chiara needs to interact with him to gather information. I can’t go barging in there and interrupting things.

I just want her as far away from that asshole as she can be. It grinds my gears to think that I've agreed to let her help gather evidence against Stefano. I want her out of it. Completely.

I take a deep breath, then another one, slower, more focused. I need to keep my cool.

I need to stay in control.

“Why are you always so focused on the Dubrov family, Stefano? Why are you so full of hate? They didn’t do anything to you,” Chiara whispers harshly. I can hear the defensive tone of her voice as she stands up for my family.

“It’s none of your business who I like and dislike.”

“You don’t like anyone,” she replies.

“No, I don’t like them. In fact, I hate them. They are murderous fuckers who deserve to die a slow painful death, every single one of them,” Stefano spits in anger.

“What the fuck is going on with you, Stefano? That's my husband’s family you're talking about—my family. You can’t go around saying things like that.”

Stefano huffs loudly and pushes his fingers through his hair. He looks agitated beyond even his norm.

“They killed my father, Chiara. Okay? Now you know.”

She stares at him in disbelief, her eyes wide with shock.

“No, that can’t be right.”

“It is. They killed my father, and I suspect they killed my mother, too. I will never forgive them. I will never stop hating them for that.”

Chiara reaches her hand out and gently touches Stefano’s arm. “Stefano,” she says softly.

He pushes her away aggressively, and I step closer, ready to snap his neck. But then he turns and storms off into the crowd, and Chiara glances toward me with wide, bright eyes when she sees me coming over.

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