Page 49 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

Third time's the charm.

The struggle within me went on for hours, my manly pride fighting against that voice urging me to reach out.

I hadn't seen her today, which was weird because despite not being on speaking terms, I'd often run into her at some point during the day. Today was different. I hadn't even caught a glimpse of her.

She didn't come down for breakfast, and no one else in the house saw her having lunch. Just because I was mad at her didn't mean I shouldn't care about her safety, especially now that she was pregnant with my child.

Finally, that voice of reason triumphed over my manly pride, and I saw the need to make sure she was okay, at least.

I rose off the sofa in my bedroom and headed out, damning the consequences of my decision. It didn't matter how she'd react if she saw me; I just wanted to know that she was fine.

My footsteps were silent on the floor as I waltzed into the guest room, my heart racing with anticipation. I shouldn't feel this way, but this was what my affection for her had reduced me to.

I halted in front of her door, my knuckles hanging in the air as I hesitated for a moment. It would piss me off if her actionsmade me regret coming over. I'd swallowed my pride to be here, so she better make it worth it—her energy better be receptive.

I knocked on the door a few times but got no response. My face twisted into a faint scowl, my brows furrowing to create creases between them. Did she know I was outside and was deliberately ignoring me?

I knocked again.

Still no answer.

My scowl deepened, my rage gradually creeping back inside because I knew she was in there. Why wasn't she answering?

Then it hit me, and my heart skipped a beat, my breath lodging in my throat as I pushed the door open. In my head, I'd thought the worst already.

Did she harm herself? Did she choose death over being my wife?

My eyes widened at the sight of her lying on the bed, still in the same dress from yesterday. I quickened my pace into the room, squinting as I studied her form for signs of life. Her chest rose and fell slowly, her expression soft and peaceful as she slept.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped my lips as I realized that I'd panicked for no reason. She was fine. Fast asleep but fine.

My gaze swept across her form—pale and fragile as she lay on her side, her arms around a pillow. Her body shuddered slightly at the cold that enveloped the room. The air conditioner was on, and it seemed too much for her body to handle.

Tessa was barely covered with a thin blanket, her quivering lips murmuring incoherent words as if in a feverish dream. This was no place for her, and it was a good thing I came around when I did.

I scooped her up in my arms, her body feeling far too light, her skin alarmingly cool to touch. How could I have lefther like this just to feed my manly pride? Guilt gnawed at me, creating a pit in my stomach.

In my arms, she let out a soft sigh, signaling her comfort as she slept. My gaze fell to her face—cute and beautiful—and a small smile played at the corners of my lips as I left her room.

As I stepped out the door, I met one of the maids gliding through the hallway. She paused in her tracks and greeted me with a polite grin, her head slightly bowed in reverence.

“Hurry, bring some food to the master bedroom,” I instructed her, my voice calm but laced with urgency.

“Yes, sir,” she replied and took off immediately, her flats pounding against the floor.

I returned my wife to our bedroom—it was high time I did that anyway—and cautiously lowered her on the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, my fingers grasped the hem of the blanket, draping the thick fabric over her body to keep her warm.

Soon enough, her lips stopped trembling, and her body stopped shivering as she lay snuggled up under the covers. I watched her lie in bed like Sleeping Beauty, her face toward the ceiling. My hand flew to her hair in an instant, pushing some loose strands behind her ear.

How could I have let my pride get in the way of doing the right thing? What if my anger and negligence had resulted in something more catastrophic?

The thing was, though, she was fine.

My God! What a beautiful woman!

I didn't realize how much I missed her until now, and I couldn't bring myself to look away from her. My fingers caressed her skin, my mind spinning with how much I needed her in my life.

After our first night together, I knew that Tessa was the one for me; she was the woman with whom I wanted to spendthe rest of my life. Screw the agreement we had about going our separate ways after two years. I couldn't do that, and I wouldn't. Why would I let a good woman, a rare gem, walk out of my life? No. I'd rather have her to myself as my wife.

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