Page 42 of Knocked-Up Bratva Prisoner

“I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the hell I want,” I sass back at him.

“Let me make you some lunch. Or some tea. Or pour you a glass of wine.”

I pull my mouth to the side to hide the grin that begins to creep across my face.

“A glass of wine? And maybe some cheese and crackers,” I say cautiously.

He nods.

He actually genuinely does feel bad, and now he is trying to make up for it—his way of saying sorry.

I glance down at the floor because now I am fully smiling, and I don’t want him to see it. I think I know how to get a little revenge and make myself feel better.

“I’ve also been craving some chocolate.”

“I am sure there is chocolate in the pantry. I’ll find it for you. Can I do anything else for you?”

“I don’t think so…" I say with hesitation.

“Well, let me know.” He sounds so sincere I might feel a tinge of guilt for pushing him like this.

But I nod, satisfied for the time being. I just have to remind myself that he left me in a complete panic all morning, so now it’s only fair that he has to make up for that.

Inside, I have a massive, secret smile glowing.

On the outside, I am managing to maintain my pout.

He brushes the backs of his fingers over my cheek.

His eyes look soft and warm—he smiles, and it’s so gentle it makes my heart flutter.

Suddenly, I am curious how far I can push this, how much I can make him do for me, before he catches on.

I follow Alex as he goes through to the kitchen and starts looking through the cupboards, pulling out all the things he needs to make a lunch platter of cheese, crackers, cold cuts and olives with a few different jams and some figs.

I watch him, rather enjoying myself, surprised at how efficient he is in the kitchen.

While he is busy preparing everything, he pours me a glass of white wine and I sip it, swinging my legs off the edge of the kitchen counter where I am sitting.

Whenever he has to get something out of a cupboard or drawer near me, he goes out of his way to touch me, letting his hand remain on my thigh while he leans down to pull out a serving plate from the cabinet beneath my legs or keeping his hand on my waist while he reaches into the cupboard above me for the salt and pepper.

This little game that I am playing might backfire if he keeps doing that.

All afternoon, he is so sweet to me. We eat the very fancy platter outside on the patio, even though it is a little cold. Alex fetches me a blanket and wraps it around me while I enjoy my wine.

After lunch, he apologizes again. I’ve had two glasses of wine by now and I’m feeling even bolder.

“I hope you believe me, Clara—that I’m sorry about what happened.”

“You know, I walked up and down those stairs, and all around the house for hours in a total panic.”

He reaches over and pulls my feet into his lap, shifting my whole body to face him on the outside sofa.

He pulls my sneakers off my feet and tosses them onto the floor.

“I didn’t mean for you to go through that,” he says, rubbing his fingers into the soles of my feet, massaging away the stress. I close my eyes, lost in the bliss of his touch, and a soft grin escapes my shielded expression.

I quickly wipe it away, and my eyes move fast, glancing towards him to see if he noticed.

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