Page 96 of Knocked-Up Bratva Prisoner

What the fuck?

“What are you doing up here, sir?” One of them steps forward.

“I wanted to say hello to Miss Vitali and see how she was doing.”

“Miss Vitali is not to leave the room and will not be seeing visitors this evening. You can make your way back down the stairs, and do not come up here again.”

I glare at him. I want to bash his face in. But behind him are three more just like him.

Four guards outside her bedroom door. A bit overkill, don’t you think?

“Of course. Well, if you see her, please send her my regards.”

I smile, as gentlemanly as I can manage, and then turn to leave.

I know another way in.

Leaving the party, I walk around the back of the house, keeping my eye out for security who might be patrolling the grounds, but it seems they are all inside and around the front. I stare up at Clara’s room. I’ve climbed this bit more than once. I grin, remembering how I used to stalk her.

It feels like forever ago now.

I lift myself up onto her balcony outside her bedroom window.

She is sitting on the bed, reading a book.

I stare in wonder.

My heart going crazy with excitement at the sight of her.

She looks up as though she can feel me watching her through the window.

Her eyes grow wide with shock.

She jumps off the bed and rushes to the window, pushing it open for me.

But what I expect to maybe be a warm welcome does not turn out that way at all.

“What the hell?” she hisses at me.

I step through her bedroom window, forcing her to step back.

“You can’t just come barging into my bedroom.” She is whispering, but the anger is unmistakable.

“Wow, Clara—noI miss you, how have you been” I hiss sarcastically.

“Why would I care to be nice to you? You don’t give a shit about me. What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I came to see you. But clearly, it was a fucking mistake.”

“Yes, it was a mistake. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know.“ I throw my hands up in frustration. “I guess…"

I just want to pull her into my arms and hold her close to me.

She is glaring at me, and when I stare back down at her, really looking at her for the first time, I see the dark shadows under her eyes. Her face looks pale. She looks like she’s sick.

I reach my hand up and touch her face. She brushes my hand away.

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