Page 10 of The Bratva's Forbidden Pregnancy

Focus, Sienna. Focus.

I didn’t understand what it meant, but I knew it was some kind of greeting.

Instead of returning it, my grandma rolled her eyes and turned away from him without a response.

Okay, what’s really going on here?

Babushka clearly hated this man, and Mom was acting so weird now that he was around.

I shifted my gaze to everyone else in the room, and they all looked terrified—pale and practically trembling where they stood. It was like the devil himself had walked into our living room. It appeared that I was the only one in the room with no problem with this man. My only issue with him was that he was way too hot.

Were they afraid of him because he was in the mafia? Or was there something else that I was in the dark about?

I was standing next to my grandma, meaning that my parents were supposed to introduce me to this man who was clearly known to everyone else but a complete stranger to me. However, they seemed hesitant.

Mom looked at Dad as if unsure of whether or not to introduce us. Her breathing was heavy; she was nervous, and I could tell, even though she was doing a pretty good job at masking it.

Finally, my dad cleared his throat and said, “This is our daughter, Sienna. You remember her?”

Vlad looked at me, and I felt a flutter in my chest. My knees turned to jelly that instant. He had those charming eyes fixed on me for a while, and his expression was unreadable. I tried to read him, but I couldn’t.

What is he thinking? Why’s he looking at me like that?

He really was observing me heavily. Nothing creepy, just a good old stare. But why? I couldn't tell.

I finally mustered the courage to speak, saying, “Hello.”

He was quiet at first but eventually gave a faint grin, nodded, and turned back to my dad. “It was good seeing you people again. Let’s meet some other time, shall we?”

My dad nodded and saw him off to the door.

Wow! My God, he’s handsome!

As he left, the tension his presence had created left with him, and everyone else returned to what they’d been doing before, almost as if he’d never come.

By the way, Uncle Ivan was still in a deep sleep, somehow missing everything.

I sat back beside Babushka, my eyes fixed on the very attractive man who had captivated me as he headed out of the house.

“Who is Vlad to Dad? And how come I didn’t know about him?” I asked her.

Her brows furrowed. “Vlad is trouble, my dear. He is a man that leaves a trail of blood and chaos wherever he goes,” she replied. “He is an embodiment of evil.” The bitterness in her tone was glaring, and so was the frown on her face.

Not exactly the response I was hoping for, but alright.

“Okay, but who is he exactly?” I persisted.

“He was Paul’s best friend when they were young—always getting my boy into trouble,” she continued with a scowl. “Paul even got involved with the Russian mafia because of him.” She clicked her tongue in disdain.

I raised my brows in surprise, astonished by her story, which, for some reason, I found rather intriguing.

This certainly wasn’t the effect Babushka expected her story to have on me, but I couldn’t help being fascinated by it…by him.

I leaned close to her and mumbled, “I didn’t see a ring on his finger.”

I smirked as she playfully hit my elbow, though it managed to hurt. “Snap out of it!” she squawked.

“Ow!” I laughed lightly.

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