Page 62 of Forced Pregnant Bride

Arlo’s eyes held mischief, and I had a feeling whatever happened was a bit personal to him, as much as it concerned me, too. “Ah, just some idiot from the past. He’s not important, not anymore, anyway. He was, though.” Tilting forward, he repositioned the laptop for Rafa and me to have a better glimpse at the screen while he pulled up a feed. “The man from the past happened to be the one who helped the Colombos mess with our security footage. I used tracing Enzo as an excuse, but I smashed his fucking skull because I had a fucking bone to pick with him. You’re welcome.”

I didn’t bother formulating a response for him. While my brother got on my nerves, Arlo pinched them.

I crossed my arms, drumming my fingers against my biceps while Arlo’s fingers flew over the keyboard. The screen flickered to life showing grainy footage from a cell security camera. He played it.

The video began with the time stamp blinking in the corner. It showed the familiar bleak corridors surroundingEnzo’s cell. Kristian and Vasili walked by, oblivious. The camera panned, and then we saw her—Leonara.

“Pause.”

Arlo froze the timeframe and zoomed in. Leonara’s face was obscured by the simple maid’s cap she wore, her uniform plain and unassuming. A tray of something—food, maybe—rested in her hands as she strode confidently down the hall. Even in the grainy footage, there was no mistaking her posture. That audacity: the way she carried herself, the tilt of her head—it was all calculated. It wasn’t some fucking spur-of-the-moment plan.

I was leaning closer to the screen now. “This was how she got in?”

“She’s smart,” Arlo muttered with a shrug. “Used the kitchen entrance. They logged her as a temporary staff. Fake ID checked out, too.”

I grunted, not bothering to hide my disdain. What I felt was nothing close to admiration—it was annoyance. How the hell did she pull this off under my radar? I nudged forward, “Keep going.”

The footage rolled forward. Leonara reached a cell and stopped, setting the tray down. She exchanged a few words with the guard, and he nodded, unlocking the door.

“Fucking bastard.” When I looked up, Rafa was smiling. I frowned at him but continued watching, moving that topic to be discussed afterward.

Even through the poor-quality feed, I saw the smirk on Colombo’s face as he stepped out. My jaw tightened. “Zoom in.”

Arlo adjusted the feed, focusing on Leonara as she handed Enzo what looked like another unform—a guard’s, this time. He changed quickly, the two of them moving like clockwork. They’d rehearsed it. Every step, every movement—fucking flawless. The feed shifted to another camera as they moved through the prison, her father walking confidently besideher in his new uniform. They passed checkpoint after checkpoint without so much as a glance from the other men present.

“How did they not notice this?” I was hissing now, seething. “This was fucking perfected, like he already knew she’d be coming for him.”

“That’s what I couldn’t figure out—how possible it would have been to send word to him from outside or how she managed to find out where we were keeping him at all. Timur, the girl’s smart. She must have used shift rotations to her advantage,” Arlo was saying. “Guards coming in and out. Staff changes—chaos works in her favor.”

The final camera showed them slipping out through a side entrance, disappearing beyond sight. I clenched my fist, the urge to throw something nearly overwhelming, even if, at some point, I was going to have to accept that I’d been fucking outsmarted by the Italian girl. Arlo was right; she was smart.

I barked, “Rewind.”

Arlo was swift, doing as he was told. The feed moved back to a moment where the camera captured a brief, clear shot of her face. I studied it, committed every detail to memory. The curve of her jaw, the glint of confidence in her eyes—she knew she’d succeeded.

I slapped the table. “She’s mocking me.”

“She’s fucking brilliant and impressive.”

I faced my brother, remembering the smile that hung on his lips not too long ago. Narrowing my eyes at him, I wagged a finger. “Brilliant and impressive, huh? Well, you better hold just those thoughts and not add any fucking more to it.”

“Like what? Finding her sexy, too?”

Arlo laughed. “He’s smitten. Another Yezhov man has gotten hit.”

I didn’t mess around with this one. Even if Rafa thought this was just another game to him, I was intent on showing himhow serious I was about drilling all my objections into that hard head of his. “No.”

“No?” He arched a brow. “No fucking what?”

I glared at Arlo and then at my brother. Rafayel never had problems with the ladies. They loved him, and he loved to use them, changing one after the other like worn-out hand gloves. I’d never had problems with his sex life either, but there were limits, and the Colombo girl was one of them.

“No to thinking you can fuck her.”

“You can’t tell me who to fuck or not.”

“No, but I can order you not to touch Enzo Colombo’s daughter. It’s a fucking warning, Rafayel. I’m not messing around. There are a million other girls out there. Take your pick, and I won’t stick my nose in your fucking business. The Italian is trouble, and I don’t fucking want her in our territory or on your bed.”

He was ready to launch another protest, but my buzzing phone on the desk cut him off. Exhausted, I glanced at the caller ID and cautiously picked up the phone.

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