Page 12 of Forced plus-size Bride of the Bratva

—and says, “You?”

Just one word. Quiet. Not scared. Not startled. Just…knowing.

Like she’s seen me before.

Like she remembers me.

I freeze.

What the fuck?

My breath catches, but my face stays blank. Still. Controlled.

She stares up at me, brows slightly pinched, like she’s trying to place a memory just out of reach.

I don’t say anything yet.

Because for the first time in a long time—I’m the one caught off guard.

Does she know who I am?

Chapter 3 – Jennie

Before I can react to the intimidating presence in front of me, he steps inside, and the whole apartment suddenly feels too small.

Too narrow.

Too quiet.

He’s massive—broad in a way that fills the doorway, commanding in a way that makes the air feel heavier. He moves like a shadow with intent. Like someone who isn’t used to asking for permission.

I step back instinctively, my heartbeat ticking up. He’s wearing a suit—sleek, dark, expensive—but his knuckles are wrapped in white bandages, pinked with blood. That contradiction alone sends warning bells ringing in my head.

He doesn’t belong here.

Not in this apartment. Not in my life.

Not anywhere near me.

But God, he’s beautiful.

Not in a model-on-a-billboard kind of way, but in the way fire is beautiful—hypnotic, dangerous, too bright to stare at for too long. His dark hair is tousled, like he ran his hands through it out of frustration. His jaw is sharp, tight. And his eyes—green and cutting—don’t blink nearly enough.

He looks like a man who hasn’t slept in days.

And yet, somehow, he’s looking at me like I’m the thing keeping him awake.

He steps in farther, closing the door behind him.

The sound makes me flinch.

“Who are you?” I ask, voice smaller than I want it to be. “And why are you here?”

He tilts his head slightly, studying me. “You said ‘you?’ when you saw me.”

I nod, still backing up until my heel hits the edge of the coffee table. “Yeah. I thought I’d seen you before. You look like…one of the Bratva men who came to my door yesterday.”

His expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes. Can he tell I’m lying? Will he punish me for it?