Page 24 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

“What?” I asked her, confused as to the meaning of that look. “What is it?”

She didn’t respond, and her eyes were still fixed on him.

“Can someone please tell me something? What is going on here?” I demanded an answer.

He hesitated for a moment. “It’s nothing, my dear.” He placed a palm on the back of my hand. “Don’t worry about it.” Dad smiled and faced his dessert.

I turned to face her, and she struggled to squeeze out a smile.

“Mom?” I called out, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Hmm?” She looked at me, pretending like she didn’t know why I called her attention.

“What’s with all this tension at the mention of Vlad?” I asked.

“Tension?” She scoffed. “What’re you talking about? There’s no tension here, is there, Paul?”

He shook his head.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.” She reached out and touched my hand with a smile she’d managed to muster.

They were both hiding something, but Dad was handling it better. The news about my encounter with Vlad had them riled up, but Dad was acting like he was cool with it.

Mom, on the other hand, had a whole lot of work to do on her acting skills because her efforts at deception were painfully transparent. She tried to pretend, to feign nonchalance, but she couldn’t look me in the eye, and her posture was stiff: a testament to her discomfort.

It was obvious that Mom was worried about me, but why was she trying so hard to hide it?

Chapter 8 – Vlad

Hands clasped around the steering wheel, I fixed my eyes on the road, but my mind was flooded with thoughts of Sienna.

It had been a while since I’d driven myself around, and despite Simon’s and Fyodor’s insistence on tagging along, I maintained my stance about wanting to be alone.

“At least have the chauffeur drive you,” Simon said from the head of the steps at the entrance to the mansion.

“I’ll be fine,” I replied, getting into the driver’s seat.

“Remember, you don’t really know your way around New York!” he shouted after me, his voice laced with concern.

“There’s something called GPS,” I replied, starting the engine.

I had my own plans, and I knew where I was going, contrary to what they might have thought.

“Turn left,” Siri instructed.

I obeyed, rolling the vehicle down a street. Glancing at the digital map on my dashboard, I realized that I was almost there: the restaurant Sienna had recommended two days ago.

According to her, the food there was great, and that I would love it. She also mentioned that she often went there to eat—every weekend, to be exact. This was the weekend. Would I be lucky?

It didn’t take long to locate the diner and pull over by the parking lot.

I killed the engine and checked out the scene through the diner’s big window. It was hustling and bustling inside; folks were sipping coffee, munching on burgers, chatting, and laughing.

However, there was no Sienna.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the vehicle, heading straight for the glass door. It jingled and opened; then, I walked in, my eyes scanning the space.

“Hi, there.” A waitress approached me with a courteous smile. “Welcome to Josie’s. What can I get you?”

---