Page 19 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

I press the phone to my ear. “What?”

“Serge is home,” Oleg says, his voice gruff but steady. “I dropped him off myself. He’s out cold, probably won’t wake up until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Good,” I mutter, my jaw still tight with lingering frustration. “Make sure he doesn’t leave again without my permission. He’s been reckless, and I’m not letting him fuck things up for us.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Oleg replies. There’s a pause before he adds, “You did what you could, Timur. He’s just… lost right now.”

Lost. The word echoes in my head, and I grimace. I don’t have time for this sentimental shit, but I know Oleg means well. Serge is my brother, and I’ll always do what I can to protect him, even if that means dragging him out of his own self-destruction.

“I know,” I finally say, though my voice is tight. “Just make sure he stays out of trouble.”

“Will do. I’ll keep him in line,” Oleg says before hanging up.

I drop the phone back into the console and lean back in the driver’s seat, staring at the empty road ahead. Serge is home, but I know this won’t be the end of it. He’s too deep in his own shit to just bounce back, and the worst part is, I don’t know if I can pull him out this time. I’ve already got enough on my plate with running the Bratva, keeping our businesses in line, and dealing with our enemies.

Then there’s Jennifer.

She doesn’t belong in my world. I knew that the moment I saw her, all wide-eyed and innocent. She’s the kind of girl who should be wrapped up in her career, safe in her little bubble, not tangled up with someone like me. It’s that exact innocence thatpulls at me. It makes me want to corrupt it, to make her mine. The way she looked at me that night, like she couldn’t resist but didn’t want to give in—it’s stuck with me.

Why the hell am I letting her get under my skin? It’s ridiculous. I should be focusing on business, on Serge, on keeping everything running smoothly. I’ve never let a woman mess with my head like this before, and I don’t plan on starting now.

My phone buzzes again, and this time it’s a message from Oleg:All quiet on my end. Let me know if you need anything.

I respond with a simplewill do,before tossing the phone back into the console. I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, the faint echo of Jennifer’s laugh lingering in the back of my mind.

This is a distraction I don’t need. Yet, for some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s not just going to disappear. Not from my mind. Not from my life.

Chapter Nine - Jennifer

As I sit at my desk, the hum of the office fills the air, but my mind is elsewhere. I’m supposed to be focused on finalizing some updates for the marketing campaign, but all I can think about is Timur. It’s been a month since that night, and even though I keep telling myself to forget about him, he keeps creeping back into my thoughts.

It’s ridiculous. I don’t even know why I’m so hung up on him. He’s not the kind of guy I should be thinking about. He’s probably too busy with his own life—whatever that entails. After how he acted during the presentation, throwing those sharp questions my way, it’s clear he’s not someone I can count on for… anything. At least not emotionally.

I sigh and rub my temples, forcing myself to refocus on the work in front of me. The marketing campaign for Empire City Estates is going well, better than I expected, but there’s still a lot to get done. Mr. Russel is expecting an update soon, and I need to make sure everything is perfect. I’ve worked too hard to mess this up now.

Just as I’m about to dive back into my notes, an email notification pops up on my screen. It’s from Mr. Russel, asking me to meet him in the conference room in five minutes. My stomach twists. I hope this is just a routine update, nothing more. But I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that’s settled in my gut.

I grab my notebook and head toward the meeting room, trying to shake off the weird vibe I’m getting. I’ve worked with Mr. Russel before—he’s always been professional. But lately, I’ve noticed how he seems to linger a little too long when we talk, how his compliments feel just a little too personal.

When I step into the conference room, he’s already there, sitting at the head of the table. He flashes me a smile, and for some reason, it feels… off.

“Jennifer, come in, have a seat,” he says, motioning to the chair next to him.

I take a seat but make sure to keep a bit of distance between us. “I brought the updates you asked for on the campaign,” I say, sliding my notebook across the table.

He glances at the notebook but doesn’t reach for it. Instead, his eyes stay on me. “You’ve been doing a great job,” he says, his tone smooth, almost too smooth. “We’re really lucky to have you on the team.”

“Thank you,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral. “I’m just trying to make sure we hit our targets.”

He leans forward, a little too close for comfort. “You’re very driven, aren’t you? I like that.”

I force a smile, shifting slightly in my seat to put some distance between us. “Just trying to do my job.”

He chuckles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, you’re doing more than just your job, Jennifer. You’re standing out.”

I don’t like the way he says that, the way his eyes trail over me like I’m something to be appraised. It makes my skin crawl. I clear my throat, trying to redirect the conversation. “So, about the campaign—”

Before I can finish, he cuts me off. “Why don’t we take a break from the campaign talk for a minute? You’ve been working hard. Maybe we could grab a drink sometime, unwind a little.”

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