Page 48 of Forced Bratva Bride

“It’s business, you won’t care,” Stefano snaps.

The girl giggles. “If business means money, then I do care.”

She stands up and saunters over to his desk, leaning over as her cleavage spills from the top of her dress.

Stefano doesn’t even look up at her.

“Tell me, baby. What are you laughing at?” her nasal, high-pitched voice is grating on me.

“I'm laughing because Angelo is going to be even more pleased than he already is. We have two more clients requesting orders. Ever since the Dubrov warehouse had that little accident, their clients are coming over to us, worried about their products shipping safely.”

He grins and grabs the girl around the back of the neck, kissing her hard, then pushing her away.

“So, that means more money?”

“Yes, rabbit, that means more money. More clients mean that our business is flourishing, and Angelo was already so impressed with what I reported yesterday. This is just an extra cherry on top, now.”

“You promised you would take me shopping today,” she sighs. “How long are you going to be?”

“Please stop your moaning, I can’t stand it. I’m done, anyway. We can go. But I’m not going shopping. I’ll give you some cash and you can take yourself shopping after we're done.”

“Ooh. Yes,” she giggles, running her hand over Stefano’s chest when he stands up to leave.

They step out of the office and pull the door closed behind them, and I breathe a heavy sigh of relief that no one noticed me squished into the corner here.

I still have the Dubrov file gripped between my fingers.

I don’t think I should try and read it here—I think I need to get out of here, fast. Now that Stefano is home, there's no telling when he might just stick his head back into this office.

I shove the entire file into my handbag, and before I step out of the office, I make a silent wish that no one is out in the hallway.

I crack the door open and don’t hear a sound. I push it further and glance left and right. Empty.

I step outside and quickly close the door, then casually walk deeper into the house as though heading toward my old bedroom.

But strange sounds are echoing through the house from one of the top floor rooms.

I tilt my head to listen. It sounds like someone is hurt, maybe even crying out in pain. What if something happened to my father? My heart tightens as I hurry up the stairs, trying to follow where the sounds are coming from.

What if he fell, or what if someone broke in? I have to find him.

My instincts tell me to keep as quiet as possible, just in case I need the upper hand against an intruder. The sounds get louder as I walk down a dimly lit section of the back of the house. I can’t even remember when last I came up here. This is Dad’s office area, and as a kid I was never allowed here. I snuck up once or twice and got caught. He was furious, so I never did it again.

“Please, stop.” A choked beg from a man whose voice is so tight I can’t tell if it's my father’s or not. “Please, I told you everything I know.”

My breathing becomes uneven and heavy. I do my best to stop the raging fear creeping through me.

I step close to the open doorway, flat against the wall, and inch closer.

“No, no, no. Sto—”

Another gurgling sound, as though someone is choking on thick liquid.

I have to look.

I lean my head around the doorframe, and my entire body freezes in horror.

My father, covered in blood, his sleeves rolled up over his forearms.

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