Page 45 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

I felt like I was losing my mind with every minute that went by when she wasn't back.

Then I heard it: the sound of footsteps approaching the front door. This better be her. I couldn't stand another minute of waiting.

The door opened, and her scent wafted through the air. A fleeting wind of relief blew across my face that she was finally home, alive and well. Now, onto the real deal.

She switched on the lights and immediately flinched at the sight of me. Her eyes widened in a mix of fear and what looked like guilt. Her breath caught in her throat, and I could almost hear the sound of her heart pounding in her chest.

Why was she so afraid if she wasn't guilty of anything?

Her fear and anxiety only confirmed my suspicion. She was hiding something; I could tell. But what was it?

I suppressed the idea that she might have been intimate with Connor. I couldn't bear that thought and accuse her without any form of concrete evidence. The photo of them together in the park didn't mean she gave herself to him, the same way that what she saw the other day didn't mean I fucked Jennifer.

However, I still needed answers directly from her lips. I still needed an explanation as to why she met with him in the first place and where the fuck she'd been all day.

“Where were you?” I demanded, my voice low and venomous, my eyes never leaving her face.

She went silent, her gaze dropping to the floor. Subtly, her body tensed as she stood frozen in shock.

I gritted my teeth, my chest burning with fury, as her silence only infuriated me the more. “Tessa,” I called, anger simmering beneath the surface. “Where were you?” I reiterated, my piercing gaze unwavering.

Again, she was silent—too afraid, too numb to speak.

I watched her eyes widen as I rose to my feet and walked toward her. Her chest rose and fell, overwhelmed with tension. Her lips trembled, and her eyes misted where she stood, rooted to the spot.

“Don't make me ask you again,” I warned, my hands snapping out to grab her arms, my tone low and malicious.

She flinched, wincing at the pain as my grip tightened, my fingers digging into my flesh. “Can we not do this right now? I'm tired,” she said in almost a whisper, her voice trembling.

“Tired?” My expression darkened, mirroring my displeasure and disbelief. “You come home at this time of night after sneaking out of the house, and you say you're tired?” I questioned through gritted teeth, my eyes narrowing and my grip tightening.

“You're hurting me.” She winced, her face contorting in agony as she tried to squirm out of my hold, but my grip was firm.

“Were you with him, hmm?” I demanded, shaking her body. “Were you with him?” My voice rose a little higher.

“With who?” she stuttered, fear flickering in her misted eyes, a glint of confusion flashing across her face.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Tessa!” I snarled in her face.

She steeled herself, her body stiffening as she pulled her head backward, momentarily shutting her eyes. “I don't know who you're talking about!”

Her mock ignorance fueled my rage, and my body trembled as I struggled not to lose control. I was no longer the calm and composed Erik she knew; I was someone else, something else—cold and dangerous. “I know that you secretly met Connor the day you left my office,” I said, my fingers pressing against her arms.

“Erik, you're hurting me,” she whimpered, pleading with her eyes, which were brimming with tears.

“Were you with him today? Is that where you're coming from?” I demanded, disregarding the pain I was causing her.

“No,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I'm coming from the hospital.”

My eyes narrowed, creating subtle lines between them as confusion washed over me. Why was she at the hospital? Was she unwell?

Silently, I released her arms, my gaze locked onto her.

She sniffled and wiped her tears, then dug into her purse and withdrew a piece of printed paper. “Here.” She handed it over to me.

I squinted, accepting it from her. “What's this?”

“It's the pregnancy test results,” she replied, her voice firm and expression stern. “I'm pregnant, Erik.”

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