Page 27 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

I close the distance between us in a few strides, reaching out to grip her arm gently but firmly, keeping her from retreating any farther. “I did it to protect you. Try being more grateful, hmm?”

Jennifer’s breathing hitches, her wide eyes meeting mine, filled with confusion and horror. She tries to pull away, but I hold her firmly in place. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I murmur, my grip tightening just enough to make sure she’s paying attention. “You’re not running from me either.”

“What are you talking about?” she whispers, her voice shaky as she stares up at me. “What is this? What are you?”

A bitter smile tugs at the corner of my lips. “The Sharov Group isn’t just a real estate company, Jennifer. It’s much more than that. I’m much more than that.”

Her brow furrows as she processes what I’m saying, realization slowly dawning on her. “You’re… Mafia?”

I don’t say anything, just nod, my eyes never leaving hers. The shock on her face is immediate, followed by something deeper—betrayal, maybe. It doesn’t matter. She needed to know, sooner or later. This is my world. She’s stepped into it, and there’s no going back now.

“I didn’t want this!” she snaps, her voice rising, her anger boiling to the surface. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Timur! I don’t want to be a part of… whatever this is!”

“I know,” I say calmly, my voice steady. “Now that you’ve seen what I am, I can’t just let you go free.”

Jennifer shakes her head, her eyes wild with disbelief. “I’m not staying. I’m leaving, Timur. I can’t… I won’t be a part of this.”

I lean in close, my lips brushing against her ear as I speak, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “Don’t try it, Jennifer. If you run, I will find you. No matter where you go, no matter how far you think you can get, I will find you.”

Her entire body stiffens at my words, her breathing shallow and quick. I can feel the fear radiating off her, but there’s something else too. Something she won’t admit, not yet.

“You belong to me now,” I murmur, my grip on her arm loosening but not letting go. “You can fight it all you want, but it won’t change anything.”

Her eyes flash with defiance as she jerks her arm free from my hold. “I don’t belong to anyone,” she spits out, her voice trembling but firm. “Not you, not anyone.”

I tilt my head, studying her for a moment, the corner of my mouth twitching in amusement. “We’ll see about that,” I say, taking a step back to give her space. “Don’t forget what I said. I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you.”

Without another word, I turn and walk away, leaving her standing there, her chest heaving, her mind undoubtedly racing with the weight of what just happened. I know she’s angry, scared, and confused, but I also know she won’t be able to escape me. Not now. Not ever.

Jennifer belongs to me, whether she likes it or not. I’m not letting her go.

Chapter Thirteen - Jennifer

A week has passed, and I’ve spent every single day of it planning how to get away from Timur.

I sit in my small dorm apartment, staring blankly at the window, but my mind is a whirl of anxiety and fear. The more I think about it, the more desperate I become. He’s part of a Russian crime family. A Sharov. The man who murdered someone in front of me without a second thought. Every time I think about him, the scene replays in my head—the sound of the gunshot, the way Russel’s body crumpled to the floor, lifeless. The cold, calculated expression on Timur’s face as if it was just another routine day for him.

I shudder, pulling my knees to my chest as I sit on my bed. It’s not just the fact that he’s part of the Mafia; it’s everything he represents. Brutality, violence, control. He’s everything I’ve always despised.

My eyes shift to the small picture frame on my nightstand, and my throat tightens. It’s a photo of my mother, smiling in her police uniform, her eyes bright with pride. She was a hero, a woman who dedicated her life to justice. Now… now I have ties to the very kind of man responsible for destroying so many lives.

I blink back the tears that sting my eyes, but they slip down my cheeks anyway. I press my hand to my stomach, my heart aching. Timur can never find out about this baby. He can never know that I’m pregnant.

He’ll never let me go. Men like him—they don’t let people walk away from them, especially not if it involves their blood.

I take a shaky breath and glance at my packed bag resting by the door. I don’t know where I’ll go yet, but I know I have to leave. I have to disappear before he finds out. Because once heknows, it’s over. I’ll be trapped in his world, just like my mother was trapped in hers, fighting against people like him.

I won’t let that happen to me. Not to my child.

A fresh wave of determination washes over me. I don’t know how long I have before he realizes something is wrong, but I’ll make sure I’m gone by then. Far away, somewhere he can never reach me.

I barely have time to wipe my tears when the door swings open, and Maeve steps in. She’s not alone. A woman walks in behind her, dark-haired, sharp-featured, and with an air of danger around her that instantly puts me on edge.

“Jennifer,” Maeve says, glancing between the two of us, “this is Chiara. She’s the one I told you about. The one who can help.”

I straighten up on the bed, my mind reeling. Maeve told me she had connections, someone who could help me get away from Timur, but I didn’t expect this. There’s something about the woman in front of me that screams danger, and the more I look at her, the more I realize I’ve seen her before.

Not in person, but in news articles, whispered rumors…. She’s the daughter of the late Italian Mafia don.Chiara Vinci.

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