Page 56 of Forced Bratva Bride

“I don’t care who started it, both of you stop. Paval, Maxim, get out of the room. I need to talk to Stefano in private.”

I shoot her a look that says not a fucking chance.

But I do release my grip on Stefano’s neck. He steps away angrily.

Then he moves towards me again. “Stefano, stop,” Chiara says. “Seriously, let me talk to him in private,” she insists.

Paval looks from me to Chiara. “Let her.”

I hate this. I don’t want her alone with him. But at least they are in my house, and if he tries anything, I will hear.

“We will be right outside the door,” I say.

“No, you won’t. I said in private.”

I snarl. “If he hurts you, he won’t survive the things that I am going to do to him.”

“Fine,” Chiara says with a heavy sigh.

I storm out of the room and Paval follows me downstairs. Every muscle in my body is tense. My adrenaline is pumping. That asshole was not even grateful that we helped him, that we most likely saved his fucking life.

Chapter 18 - Chiara

Stefano stands in the center of the bedroom, breathing heavily. A deep line is etched across his forehead, emphasizing the fact that he is always frowning, always angry.

I take a slow breath.

“Stef, please, just sit down so that we can talk.”

“That motherfucker has been holding me prisoner here, and you want me to sit down and have a little chat with you? He put a fucking bomb in my warehouse and killed my people. He tried to kill me.”

“Maxim did not put a bomb in your warehouse, Stefano.”

“Of course he did. The Dubrovs are murderers. They are heartless fucking snakes.”

“Please, will you just calm down?” I ask as softly as I can.

“How can I calm down when I am being held against my will? I am a prisoner in the house of my enemy, a bunch of killers, and you expect me to calm down?”

“We—not just Maxim, but me as well—have not been holding you prisoner. We have been taking care of you. They had the doctor come and see to your wounds after the explosion and made sure you had a safe place to heal.”

“He's only helping me to try cover for the fact that he did this to me.”

“Can you stop focusing on the same thought loops?” I ask, beginning to feel frustrated.

He is so angry that he isn’t even able to have a normal conversation.

His body is shaking.

I look down to see his leg bleeding badly again through the clean white bandages I put on this morning. “I think you tore your stitches out.”

“My leg fucking hurts,” he complains.

“So sit down, for crying out loud. Why do you always have to be so difficult?”

He moves over to the chair near the window and slumps into it. He leans forward to examine his leg. “For all I know, these assholes cut me open and put a tracking device in my leg. They just bombed my warehouse, and I bet you they only saved me to cover their own asses.”

“For fuck's sake, Stefano. You are just repeating the same things over and over. It wasn’t them. Their warehouse also got attacked. You know this.”

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