Page 8 of Forced Pregnant Bride

“Happy Birthday to—”

Like a poorly done wax job, the smile slid off my face when I realized that the man standing on our doorstep was not my brother.

My fingers curled around the edges of the cake board, and a gust of chilly wind stirred gooseflesh on my skin. I wasn’t sure which direction it came from, but it was a lot cooler than the breeze that settled after the rain.

“Won’t you let us in?”

I swallowed. This broad man with a heavy presence, the thickness of his shoulders, his black-on-black designer clothes, and his expensive cologne almost swallowed the entire frame of the door. One man stood behind him, and two others lurked further back.

But none were as intimidating as the broad man.

“I don’t allow strangers into my house.”

Soft but firm, my voice reached my ears before I realized I’d spoken. It was shocking that I didn’t tremble or lean on a frame for support.

My heart skipped in my chest, and the man behindhimgrinned. “Feisty.”

Sharp brown eyes, the color of mountains and soil, narrowed in displeasure, and the chiseled slope of his jaw flexed. “We aren’t strangers.”

My brows crinkled. The low growl in his voice, like a rumble of thunder in dark grey skies…the accent that rolled on his tongue, mingling and fusing with his words like a smooth cake mix—none of those sounded natural or familiar. Definitely not native American.

With more boldness, I squared my shoulders, looking him in the eye. “Then, who are you?”

“Let’s say friends of your father’s.”

Foreigners, friends of father’s, showing up on our doorstep at two in the morning? It was highly unlikely and almost laughable if it didn’t look scary. Although they looked far from common thieves, I could tell these men were dangerous and didn’t look like men who’d show up at such an ungodly hour if they had no reason to.

“Won’t you let us in?” he repeated.

This time, however, I heard the subtle irritation at the back of his throat.

This man of midnight and ice looked ready to wipe me out of his path if I didn’t move immediately. I didn’t want to move, but the only thing standing between me and him was the threshold and Jay’s birthday cake. I didn’t want anything or anyone ruining what I’d worked so hard to create, not the cake or the peaceful home I’d managed to build with and for my brother.

So, I did the one thing that I didn’t know would change the course of both our lives forever.

I let him in.

Chapter 4 – Timur

I sat on the couch in the dainty living room, Arlo standing beside me and Kristian and Vasili by the door. Everything was more her than Oliver: the colors, textures, and smell. She owned the space, and her composure and confidence were the indicators.

Placing the basketball cake on the center table, she took the seat opposite mine, crossing her legs with elegance and chewing her bottom lip with her nerves all over the place.

Raising her head, she looked me in the eyes—a sparkling pair of blue eyes that reminded me of the reflection of clear skies on the vast ocean. She was not tall, but when she squared her shoulders in a feeble attempt to appear fierce, her height edged upwards.

“You claim that you’re my father’s friends, and yet, I don’t even know your names.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised that she wanted an introduction. She looked like the type, anyway.

“Timur Yezhov. Not exactly pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Serena Skye, given the circumstances.”

“Arlo.” Arlo raised a hand.

“Kristian.”

“Vasili.”

The two men echoed their names from the back.

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