Page 5 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

“Thanks,” I manage to say, glancing up at him. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, everything around us fades—the blaring music, the flashing lights, the crowd. It’s just me and him, standing too close.

He studies me for a second longer before speaking. “You shouldn’t be in this crowd with a dress like that,” he says, his gaze lingering on the wet fabric beneath the jacket.

I nod, my throat dry. He’s right. I need to get out of here, but I can’t seem to find the words.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he suggests, his voice cutting through the noise. “Or better yet, my place is nearby. You can change into something dry.”

My heart skips a beat. His place? I know what that means—or what it could mean. My mind races, weighing the options. Part of me knows this is crazy. I don’t even know this guy. Then again, maybe it’s not so crazy. Maybe this is exactly what I need. It’s been so long since I did something impulsive, something just for me.

I glance around the club, hoping to spot Maeve, but she’s nowhere in sight. Figures. She probably ditched me as soon as her ex showed up. I’m alone, in this massive crowd, and the idea of staying here, soaked and humiliated, isn’t appealing.

I look back at him. There’s something in his eyes that feels… reassuring. Safe, even though I know he’s anything but. He’s clearly dangerous, powerful. Yet, I’m not scared of him. I’m drawn to him.

“You don’t have to come,” he says, his voice softer now. “If you do, I promise you won’t regret it.”

My pulse quickens. This is a terrible idea. I don’t even know his name. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe I need a terrible idea right now. Something to shake up the safe, predictable life I’ve built for myself. The internships, the schoolwork, the endless pressure to be perfect—it’s suffocating sometimes. Maybe this is the one night where I let all that go.

I glance down at the jacket he’s draped over my shoulders, then back up at him. His eyes are still locked on mine, waiting.

“I’ll go,” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the thudding bass.

He smirks, satisfied, and steps aside, motioning toward the exit. My heart is pounding as I follow him through the crowd, out of the club, and into the cool night air. The jacket feels heavier now, like a symbol of the decision I just made.

As we walk outside, I can’t help but feel a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside me. I know this is reckless. I know I’m stepping into something I can’t fully control. But as I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, I realize I don’t want control tonight.

The taxi pulls up to the curb, and I slide in beside him. The space between us feels charged, my pulse quickening with every second that passes. The club fades behind us as the city lights stream by, and I realize that I’m doing something I’ve never done before—something impulsive, unpredictable. I’m not sure what’s going to happen next, but oddly enough, that excites me.

“So,” he starts, glancing at me with a small smile. “You got a name?”

“Jennifer,” I reply, feeling a little more at ease. “You?”

“Timur,” he says smoothly, his deep voice making the name sound even more exotic than it already is. He’s not looking at me, but I can feel the weight of his presence next to me, like a gravitational pull that’s hard to resist. There’s a moment of silence, and I fumble for something to say.

“What do you do, Timur?”

He smirks slightly, looking ahead. “A lot of things.” His answer is vague, leaving more questions in my mind than answers. It only adds to the intrigue that seems to surround him.

“A man of mystery, I see,” I say with a teasing tone, but he just raises an eyebrow at me.

“I guess you could say that.” His lips tug up at the corners, but he doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he shifts the conversation back to me. “What about you, Jennifer? What were you doing at that party?”

I shrug, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Celebrating, I guess. I just landed an internship at Empire City Estates.”

His eyes flicker with interest. “Impressive.”

“Thanks,” I say, smiling a little. “I’ve always had an interest in real estate.”

“Good choice,” he says simply, but there’s a knowing edge to his voice that makes me wonder just how deep his ties to the world of luxury properties run.

The taxi slows as we pull up to his house. Or… mansion, really.

My eyes widen as I take in the sprawling estate in front of me. It’s modern, sleek, and undeniably luxurious. Floor-to-ceiling windows line the front of the house, offering a glimpse of the meticulously designed interior. There’s a manicured garden, with soft lighting illuminating the pathway to the front entrance.

“Wow,” I whisper, stepping out of the taxi. “This place is… incredible.”

Timur chuckles lightly beside me, clearly amused by my reaction. “Glad you approve.”

I can’t help but marvel at it. Every detail, from the architectural design to the pristine landscaping, screams wealthand power. It’s the kind of place I’d only ever seen in magazines or dreamed of one day selling.

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