Page 14 of Forced Bratva Bride

Stefano, her stepbrother, is standing very close to her, and practically has her pressed against the closet door. She looks annoyed, and when I walk in, their hushed whispering tones come to a sudden stop.

“What the hell is this?” I demand, walking over to them.

“Stefano was just leaving,” Chiara says, glaring at him. He does not make a move to step away from her, so I take another, threatening step toward them.

“Stefano, she said you were just leaving,” I snarl, my voice dark with warning.

Stefano stands his ground and throws me a sideways glance.

He is pushing his luck with me. No one stands that close to my wife, and I can see the discomfort in her expression. I don’t know what the fuck he thinks he is doing, but I will tear him apart if he wants to challenge me on this.

I grab the back of his jacket and yank him away from her. He stumbles, looking shocked at my sudden use of force. I quickly step between him and Chiara, blocking his view of her.

His fists clench.

“Are you telling me I'm not allowed to talk with my sister?” he snaps.

“I am telling you to walk away from my wife before I rip your throat out.”

He hesitates for a moment, but I don’t back down.

“I'm done here, anyway,” he says, trying to sound casual, but the anger ripples in his voice.

He turns to march out of the room, and I wait until I hear the door to the suite close before I turn to face Chiara.

Chapter 6 - Chiara

After the reception, I'm exhausted, and all I want to do is escape the constant social demands that this wedding has put on me all day long.

I slip quietly into the elevator, making my getaway, hoping that no one saw me. I don’t even want to say goodbye for fear that it trap me in another conversation about how amazing Maxim and I look together.

The elevator doors slide closed, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Stepping out, I walk toward our hotel room and punch in the access code to open the door. A soft beep lets me know it worked, I step inside, letting the door drift closed behind me, not bothering to pay attention to it—I'm too tired to think anymore. I walk through to the bedroom, wanting to collapse onto the bed, close my eyes and pretend that this was all a bad dream.

“Chiara.” Stefano’s voice makes me jump and spin around.

“How did you even get in here?” I demand angrily.

“Keep your voice down,” he snaps.

“Get out.”

“I am here to help you, stop being such a bitch.” He steps closer to me, and I take a step away from him, my back pressing against the closet door.

He grins, a dark, nasty smile. Then slips his hand into his pocket.

He pulls out a knife and my heart leaps into my throat. “What the fuck?” I whisper.

I want to scream, wondering if he is here to slice my throat open in some weird psychotic episode of anger.

I open my mouth and he quickly clamps his hand over it. “Stop it, don’t be stupid.”

I push him, hard, and he chuckles.

He holds out his hand, stepping just slightly away from me, and hands me the knife.

“What are you doing?” I ask, whispering, unsure of what's happening.

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