Page 96 of Porcelain Lies

“You can’t just do this,” I say, hands on my hips. “You can’t just walk in here and tell me to turn my whole world upside down.”

“I can do anything I want.” His tone is infuriating.

“Not to me!” I stick my jaw out.

“Stella, you’ve been to my house. Seen into my world. Do you think you could ever escape me?”

“What are you talking about?” There’s a cold sensation building in my gut.

“You are having my child. If you think for one second that I will allow you to do this without me, you are wrong.”

“I’m not going with you. You can’t make me.” I hate the fact that I sound like a rebellious teen.

“Icanmake you.”

“Then I’ll leave. You’d have to lock me up.”

“Do you think I wouldn’t?” He tilts his head.

I gasp. “No,” I exhale the word.

“Woman, you will stay in my home until you have this baby. If you try to leave, I will hunt you down, take you back and shackle you in my cellar.”

I stare at him in abject horror. “You wouldn’t,” I choke.

He lifts one dark eyebrow in a gesture that says “try me.”

When I take a step away, he puts his phone to his ear and makes another call as calmly as if he didn’t just threaten to turn me into his prisoner.

I sink onto my couch, legs shaking as Aleksei paces my small living room. His rapid-fire Russian fills the space, each sharp command making me flinch. Through the fog of shock, I catch fragments — something about cars, security teams, immediate relocation.

This can’t be happening.

My hand drifts to my stomach instinctively. Not too long ago, I was just an event planner with normal problems. Now I’m pregnant with a Bratva boss’s baby, and he’s… what? Kidnapping me?

“Twenty minutes,” Aleksei snaps into his phone. “Not one minute later.”

I open my mouth to object, to assert some control over my own life, but the words die in my throat as he turns those dark eyes on me. The intensity of his stare pins me in place.

He barks another order in Russian, his free hand running through his hair in a gesture that somehow makes him lookmore dangerous rather than frustrated. The movement draws my attention to his disheveled formal wear — he’s in a tuxedo.

What happened before he came here?

The chaos I heard during that phone call echoes in my memory. Screaming, crashes, accusations about honor…

Aleksei’s voice cuts through my thoughts, switching to English. “Full security detail. Level one protocols.” His eyes lock onto me again before he continues. Something about clearing the left wing, immediate staff reassignment.

My apartment feels smaller with each passing second, shrinking under the weight of his authority. The familiar walls that once represented my independence now feel like they’re closing in.

“This is really happening,”Boyana whispers.“He’s taking control of everything.”

I want to argue, to fight back, but the words stick in my throat. The determined set of his jaw, the rigid line of his shoulders — everything about him radiates an absolute certainty that resistance is futile.

His eyes fasten on me again and I resist the urge to shrink back.

“Why aren’t you packing?”

“Because… because…” I don’t have an answer.

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