Page 95 of Knocked-Up Bratva Prisoner

“Probably a good idea. How have you been? Still partying up a storm?”

“Whatever, man. Yes. I’m fine.”

Oleg shakes his head. I don’t feel like being nice. I don’t feel like talking at all, actually—not to anyone except her.

Anya hands me a drink which I take with a smile. “Thanks, sis.”

“You look like shit.”

“Wow. Thanks for that too.”

“Pleasure.” She grins sarcastically.

I can’t keep up this stupid conversation anymore, so I turn my back on them and wander back into the crowd.

I need to find her. She has to be here. It’s her uncle’s party.

I spot Giorgio talking to a group of our business associates and I make my way to him. I hardly ever speak directly to him. I just don’t like the guy. And it’s even worse since I learned about how he treated Clara.

And now she’s back living with him.

It makes my insides churn.

“Giorgio. Thanks for the invite.”

He turns to face me, a diplomatic smile on his lips.

“Alexei, good, good. How are you keeping?”

“I’m good. How are you doing? You must be happy to have your niece back?”

“I’m so grateful the universe bought her back safely to me.” He nods with a serious look on his face, his eyes narrowed and his brows knotted.

“How is she doing? Is she here tonight?”

“No. She needs to rest. She’s been through a lot.”

“Of course, yes. I imagine she does need to rest.”

For a moment, we stare awkwardly at each other. Neither of us knows how to talk to the other. We are such different people.

“Alright, well, enjoy the party.” I lift my drink and smile.

“You too, Alexei.” He nods and moves off to talk to other people.

She’s not here.

Well, that’s not what he said. He said she’s not at the party—it doesn’t mean she isn’t home at all.

She might be up in her room. I mean, where else would she be resting?

And it just so happens that I know which room is hers.

Determination sets in way before my logical mind has a chance to rationalize whether this is a good or bad decision. I put my drink down as I walk past a table and head straight into the house, up the stairs, walking around as though I belong here, looking as natural as possible.

I turn a corner, knowing that her bedroom is the next door in this passageway. My heart is beating wildly at the thought of seeing her again. It’s been far too long.

Except what I walk into is a wall of security guards.

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