Page 4 of Forced & Knocked-Up Bratva Bride

Coward. He couldn’t even fess up and own his shit.

I told the old bastard that I was the last person on the planet he wanted to mess with. I sounded a warning, making it clear that he shouldn’t push my hand. But the snake took my words as a threat and refused to make amends.

He was testing my patience, subtly challenging me to do my worst. Dante was seeking trouble, and trouble he would find.

I sat in my office, shrouded in the dark, letting it wrap around me like a blanket, like an old friend. In the shadows, there was peace, the kind that only the dark could offer, and I was one with it.

My fingers cradled a half-filled glass of vodka as I reclined in my chair, listening to the voices in my head, the demons that had walked beside me for years. In the black void, I cooked up ways to hurt Dante Romano, to strike him where it would hurtthe most. He stole from me, took something of mine, and made it his.

Now, I’d do the same.

Dante thought he was untouchable, that his name, his bloodline, would protect him. He was wrong. Romano might be invincible, but he forgot one thing. Not everyone around him was.

If I were going to break the bastard, I wouldn’t take his material possessions. He’d only acquire more. No. I’d take something he would never recover. Something so precious and dear to him. Men like Romano, as rigid as they were, had one weakness. Family.

He cared more about his family than he did about power and influence. If he didn’t pay back his debt, then he had better be ready to face the consequences of his actions because I would come for him. I would come to collect his most prized possession.

Chapter 3 – Alessia

I sat at my desk, a grand mahogany piece with delicate carvings winding along its legs. My eyes simmered behind my glasses as I stared at the glowing laptop screen flickering before me. Golden sunlight filtered in through the towering bay windows, casting intricate patterns over the plush Persian rug stretched across the marble floor.

My fingers snuck underneath the rims of my glasses, massaging my eyeballs. The exams were fast approaching, and I needed to brush up on my books. I could never be too prepared. But I’d spent so much time sitting at this desk. Reading.

It wasn’t like I had anything better to do anyway. The goal was to succeed at all costs and make my father proud. There was absolutely no room for distractions, and failure was not an option. I could feel my eyes gradually becoming heavy, a slight pang swelling at the back of my head.

A quiet groan escaped my lips, and I leaned back in my chair, my fingers plucking off my glasses. The scent of my freshly brewed coffee wafted into my nostrils, stealing my gaze for a fleeting moment. I reached out and grabbed the mug by the handle, taking a few gulps, its flavors exploding on my tongue.

I heaved a deep sigh, rolling my neck in a massaging motion while my free hand smoothed my hair back. It was no secret that I was pushing myself to the limits, and as much as I knew my body needed some time to rest and unwind, the fear of failure always kept me on my toes.

But what else was there to do in this lonely and boring mansion? This place was practically a prison, its high walls suffocating me each day. My routine was always the same: wake up in the morning, go to school, return home, eat, study. My leisure activities were jogging, napping, and strolling aroundthe garden. Nothing new ever happened, nothing exciting whatsoever. And in all honesty, I’d gotten used to how boring and very predictable my life had become.

Freedom was another concept that was alien to me, considering the ever-present security details roaming the house. I couldn’t so much as wander off in the vast compound without those commandos constantly breathing down my neck.

God, I hated it! I hated being watched like a child who couldn’t tell her left from her right. It was frustrating and so annoying at times. But regardless of how much I loathed it, I knew it was Dad’s way of protecting his only daughter. Besides, it wasn’t like I had a say in it or anything.

I just needed a distraction at this point—something to help ease my mind and my stress. The moment I had that thought, I heard my phone ring on the table, stealing my attention. I leaned forward, and a smile played on my lips as my eyes fell on the caller’s identity.

It was my friend and classmate, Ayla Carter, an intelligent and independent young girl, so full of life. She was the classic sunshine girl, the one with the vibes and a knack for getting into trouble. Ayla was the light in my dark days—and all my dark days were dark, if I was being honest. Her free spirit and jovial nature were major reasons I hadn’t fully fallen into depression.

Each time I was stressing over something, she would sense it and show up or call my phone. I wasn’t sure how she always did that, but I was grateful to have her as a friend—a sister.

“Hey, Ayla,” I said, clasping the phone over my ear.

“I can almost hear the books sucking the life out of your soul,” she said, her tone mild and teasing. “You’ve been studying all afternoon, haven’t you?”

I chuckled, rubbing my eyeballs. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh, inyourcase, trust me, it is,” she said. “You’re not the only student in the world, you know? You’re taking this law thing too seriously.”

I sighed, scratching the back of my head. “Ayla, come on, don’t be ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is that you've been cooped up in that palace of a study all week. You need a break, sister,” she explained, her voice rising a bit higher than usual.

“I do take breaks. In fact, that’s why we're having this conversation right now,” I declared, my tone defensive.

“Wow! You made a joke. Very funny,” came her sarcastic response. “Look, you and I both know that you’ve read those books countless times. I think they should have your name in the acknowledgements.”

I laughed, reclining in my chair. “Ayla, listen—”

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