Page 13 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

I sit back, mildly curious as the door opens, and then I see her.

Jennifer.

She walks in, looking different—glasses, her hair tied back in a neat bun, dressed in formal clothes that hug her framein a way that makes her look even more professional. She’s polished, composed, and exudes a certain confidence. For a split second, I can see the confusion in her eyes when they land on me. I smirk slightly, wondering if she regrets running off that morning without a word.

Jennifer quickly regains her composure, though. Her expression tightens into one of professionalism as she makes her way to the front of the room. I can’t take my eyes off her. The girl I met that night and the one standing in front of me now seem like two different people. Still, she looks just as beautiful, if not more.

“Thank you, Mr. Russel,” Jennifer begins, her voice steady. “It’s been an incredible experience working on this project, and I’m thrilled that the campaign has been so well-received. I’m here today to share the strategies we employed and the direction I believe we should head to continue building on this success.”

She’s poised, standing tall in front of the room filled with seasoned executives, some of whom have been in the game for decades. Yet, Jennifer doesn’t falter. She starts talking about her strategy—the targeted campaigns, the engagement with their audience, the way they capitalized on current trends to push their message out.

She’s good. No, she’s brilliant.

As I watch her talk, though, a flicker of irritation runs through me. She was smart enough to know she couldn’t stay hidden forever. Seeing her here, confident and successful, should’ve been enough for me to let things go. Instead, it stirs something in me—this need to challenge her, to remind her who I am and that she doesn’t get to just disappear without consequences.

When she finishes, I clear my throat and lean forward. “Jennifer, impressive work.” My voice is calm, but there’s a hard edge to it. “I’m curious, though. Given the nature of the competition we face in this industry, do you think these trends will hold up long term? Or was this a one-off stroke of luck?”

The room goes quiet. A few people shift in their seats, sensing the tension in the air.

Jennifer blinks, taken aback for just a moment. She meets my gaze, her expression neutral, but I can see the spark of determination in her eyes. “With all due respect, Mr. Sharov, these were carefully crafted strategies, not luck. We monitored engagement closely and adapted in real-time. I’m confident that with the right approach, we can sustain this momentum.”

I don’t smile. I raise an eyebrow, tapping my fingers against the table. “Confident, are you?”

“Yes,” she replies, her tone firm. “Confidence is necessary in marketing. Without it, you’re bound to fail.”

Her words hang in the air, and I can’t help but feel impressed. She isn’t backing down. She’s meeting my challenge head-on, and I like it. I’m not done testing her yet.

“Alright,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Let’s put that confidence to the test.” I glance at the others around the table, all of whom are watching the exchange with interest, before turning my gaze back to her. “I’m going to give you a challenge, Jennifer. If you’re as capable as you say, you’ll have no problem with it.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, intrigued but cautious. “What’s the challenge?”

I smirk, enjoying this little game. “You’ll lead the next major campaign. Full control. You’ll handle everything from conception to execution. If it succeeds, we’ll talk about apermanent position for you here. If it doesn’t….” I leave the rest unsaid, letting the implication hang in the air.

Jennifer hesitates, just for a second. The room is tense, everyone watching her closely, waiting to see what she’ll say. She could back down, make an excuse, say she’s not ready. I know she won’t.

“I accept,” she says, her voice steady. “I’ll prove that I’m as capable as I say I am.”

The board members murmur in approval. Russel shoots her an encouraging look, clearly proud of her for standing up to me.

“Good,” I reply, leaning forward again, my eyes locked on hers. “Let’s see if you can handle it.”

She nods, her jaw set, clearly determined to prove herself. As she steps away from the front of the room, I can’t help but feel a thrill. Jennifer’s sharp, determined, and she’s not afraid of a challenge. She’s going to be interesting to watch.

The meeting wraps up, and as people start to leave the room, I catch her eye again. She doesn’t look away, but there’s something different in her gaze—an acknowledgment, maybe, or a challenge of her own.

Game on.

Chapter Seven - Jennifer

As I walk toward the public transport station, the weight of what just happened presses down on me. My footsteps are quick, but my mind races even faster. What was I thinking? Taking on a challenge like that, especially in front of everyone, and most of all,him? I took the bait in the heat of the moment, letting my pride take over, but now, the reality of the situation is sinking in. What if I fail?

I feel a tight knot forming in my stomach as I stop at the curb, my thoughts swirling with doubt. The bus is still a few minutes away, and I don’t even know if I can think straight at this point. I take a deep breath, hoping the cool air will calm me down.

Just then, a sleek black SUV pulls up next to me, its engine purring softly. The window slides down, and my heart sinks. It’s Timur in the backseat, being driven by a chauffer.

“Get in,” he says, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

It doesn’t sound like a request—it sounds like an order. I hesitate, my pulse quickening. Timur’s sharp eyes are on me, waiting, and I know there’s no escaping this. He’s the chairman of the company I work for now, and whether I like it or not, I can’t afford to be disrespectful. Not after everything that just went down in the boardroom. I can’t risk being seen as uncooperative.

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