Forced to Marry the Bratva: Age Gap Mafia Romance (Zolotov Bratva Book 5)

Chapter 4 - Genevieve

Damien pulls away from me and I’m still lost in his ice-blue eyes. My chest hurts from trying to get enough oxygen after what just happened.

I stand there, frozen in place. The lingering sensation of Damien’s lips on mine starts to burn. It was a kiss unlike any I’ve experienced before.

My heart races, and I lift my finger to my lips, outlining where the sparks still remain. But then, Damien takes my hand and raises it in the air, turning us to face the cheering crowd.

I feel like I’m in a trance, and I allow him to lead me forward.

What the hell just happened? I had mentally prepared to hate the kiss, to let it be just a quick peck for formality. Never in a million years had I expected to feel such warmth. That, too, from him!

From the moment I first laid eyes on him, he seemed so cold, so calculating. How could a man with such ice in his veins turn around and be filled with such heat?

“Genevieve.” He says my name under his breath. I jerk my head up and crane my neck toward him. It’s the first time I have heard my name on his lips, and it already feels like he knows me.

Suddenly, I feel shy. The way he kissed me, the way he said my name; it all points to one thing in my mind—experience. Maybe I haven’t kissed enough men, just boys. Maybe he kisses all his women like this. This thought sends a strange, fiery jealousy burning through me. As I stare up at him, I notice the frown lines on his forehead. I notice a few strands of white. The eleven-year age gap between us becomes even more pronounced.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand and helping me down the steps. As we walk through the crowd, Damien’s hand warm against mine, I can feel the gazes of the guests upon us.

My father and brother stop us to wish us congratulations. Papa leans forward and whispers in my ear, “You acted well, my dear. Keep it up.”

How can I tell him it didn’t feel like an act?

Gael has a small, sad smile on his face. I know what he’s thinking. Everything is different now. We’ll be separated. This shatters my heart, and I reach forward and cup his cheek in my palm. He momentarily closes his eyes but can’t get a word in as Damien’s siblings come up to us.

I pull away from my brother to greet them.

“Genevieve,” Damien introduces us. “My older brother Boris and younger brother Lev. My sister, Anoushka, and our cousin Vanya. This is the home of Vanya’s brother, Ivan. You’ll meet Ivan, Sergei, and Mikhail soon.”

“Vanya,” I gasp, remembering the name from the signature on the gift I received yesterday. “Thank you for the dress.”

“Come on!” Vanya giggles, linking her arm through mine. I notice a jingle of sound from the multitude of silver bangles she has on. “The reception will start soon. You’d love to change, wouldn’t you?” she nods knowingly.

“Y…yes, please,” I mutter.

“Rosie,” she calls forward a maid. “She will show you to the room we’ve set up for you. See you at the reception!”

“You’ll be okay?” Damien asks, formally inquiring with me. I find no words but answer his question with a nod.

With that, Vanya links her arms through Damien’s, and the Zolotovs walk into the main house. Father goes with them, while Gael stays behind.

“Want some company, Ginny?”

“Yes, please,” I sigh, tugging at my tight dress. I can’t wait to change into the free-flowing satin gown Vanya had sent as a gift for the after-party to our home last night. It might finally let me catch my breath.

***

Once changed, Gael and I walk back toward the reception venue.

I stand outside the doors, trying to calm my nerves. I’m already dreading saying hello to the dozens of people I don’t know. The fact that everyone in there is a stranger to me, apart from Father and Gael, leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Genevieve, come on! The reception is starting!” my brother calls out, snapping me back to reality. I sigh and take his arm.

The minute we enter, most people stop talking. I notice everyone’s eyes on me, and suddenly, I feel self-conscious in the extravagant satin gown that Vanya had picked out for me. I start to wonder if the slit is a little too high up for my leg.

I search through the crowd, returning smiles, looking for a familiar face. Papa has his back to me, lost in conversation with someone, and I catch Damien’s gaze. He stands at the center of the room, looking so composed and collected that I don’t think it could be the same man who kissed me that passionately.

I stand there and wait, wondering if he’ll walk toward me. I keep my gaze locked, and he steps forward.

My heart surges with relief. Even though he’s the last person I want to use as a crutch, I need him to make company tonight.

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Gael says, giving me a playful nudge and leaving me alone to receive my husband.

Damien reaches me just as the music starts playing and gently takes my hand in his. The touch sends a jolt through me, a mix of nervousness and something else I dare not name.

A song begins. “People expect us to dance,” he says, leading me to the dance floor. His hand is secure on the small of my back as we begin to move in sync with the music. The world around us blurs as we dance, his intense gaze never leaving mine. I can feel the heat of his body through our proximity.

He doesn’t say a word during the whole thing. The song finishes quicker than most wedding songs, and he steps aside and gives me a bow. I watch him walk toward the left of the room. Father comes up to us and asks for my hand for the father-daughter dance.

“So,” Papa asks. “Do you like him?”

“I don’t know him,” I say truthfully.

“Oh, who cares about that? Just keep him happy,” he dismisses my concern.

“Sure,” I say detachedly. There’s no point discussing feelings with Papa. All I have to do is make him proud. The rest doesn’t matter.

Once the dance ends, I excuse myself from my father and start making my way back to where I last saw Damien. I don’t know why I seek him out, but something in me wants to be near him.

It’s only because I want to get to know him, I tell myself. But maybe that’s a lie far from the truth.

When I can’t find him, I make myself comfortable in a quiet corner, far from the center of attention.

“Quite a party, huh?” a familiar voice says, making me jump.

“Gael! How did you sneak up on me?” I ask, trying to catch my breath.

“Years of practice, Sister,” he teases, grinning from ear to ear as he hands me a glass of champagne. “But seriously, what are you up to? Don’t tell me you’re trying to hide from your new husband and his family.”

“Of course not!” I scoff, feigning nonchalance. “I just wanted to take a break. Can’t a girl be tired?”

“Go ahead,” Gael replies, chuckling. “Just don’t get caught looking dull, or you’ll have some serious explaining to do in front of Father.”

“Trust me, I won’t let that happen,” I assure him, my determination unwavering. I want to prove to my father that I can handle being married to a Zolotov, and if that means faking it until I make it, so be it.

“Alright then,” Gael says. “I’m going to leave you to it and go get myself another drink.”

I nod, and he walks away. Finally alone, I scan the crowd and notice Damien isn’t here. Well, if he can disappear for some respite, so can I.

It feels unfair for me to play sweet and nice with his guests while he’s not even bothering to do the same.

Justifying that I deserve some solitude, I slip away through the nearest door, taking this opportunity to discover the place. I quickly lose myself in the maze of lavish hallways and ornately decorated rooms. As I round a corner, I hear a voice—it’s Damien.

I peek around the corner and see a balcony carved out into an alcove. The door to the balcony remains open, and in it stands Damien and his younger brother, Lev. I quickly duck my head back and press myself against the wall, my heart pounding as I strain to hear their conversation.

“Did you really have to kiss her like that?” Lev asks, sounding amused. “I thought this was just a business arrangement.”

“Mind your own business,” Damien snaps back, his tone icy.

“How could I when you were all over her?” Lev laughs out loud. “No one could take their eyes off the two of you.”

Damien says nothing.

“Anyway,” Lev continues, clearly enjoying himself, “you could’ve fooled me with that kiss. It looked pretty real to me.”

“Shut up, Lev,” Damien growls, his voice strained. “You know as well as I do that this is nothing more than a strategic alliance between our families. My feelings for her are irrelevant.”

“As I said, it didn’t look irrelevant. Who knows, you might just end up in love with her,” Lev muses.

“In love with her?” Damien scoffs sarcastically. “Never in a million years. She’s Gerald Russo’s daughter, after all. We all know what a snake he is, and as they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I needed to marry her to keep Russo under check, that’s all.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Damien’s words cut through me like a knife; his disdain for my father and, by extension, me is evident in every syllable. My stomach churns with hurt and anger as I listen in on their conversation.

“True that. But thank God she looks nothing like him,” Lev laughs.

“Seriously. The man’s an ogre.”

“But she’s quite pretty, isn’t she?” Lev says.

“Probably takes after her mother,” Damien agrees.

“Just make sure you don’t get swept away by her looks, Brother,” Lev says.

“Oh, come on,” Damien notes. “Business always comes first. Her father wasn’t open to an investment deal until a wedding took place, and that’s all he’ll get out of it. It’s just a transaction. Why should I take this marriage to be anything more?”

My anger rises as I hear their disrespectful words about my father—the man who has done everything for our family. My chest tightens, and I clench my fists at my sides. How dare they dismiss our marriage as just some business arrangement, as if my thoughts, feelings, and existence don’t matter at all? How dare they say I’m just a pawn without any thought for my well-being? I grit my teeth, feeling the sting of betrayal deep within me.

I can’t take it anymore. I turn to leave and in my frustration, I accidentally kick a decorative vase, sending it crashing to the floor with a loud shatter. My heart races as I realize what I’ve just done—given away my position.

“Who’s there?” Damien demands, his voice cold and dangerous as it cuts through the air. I hold my breath, praying that maybe, just maybe, they won’t find me.

“Show yourself!” Lev adds, his tone lighter.

With no other choice, I step out from behind the wall, my face flushed with embarrassment and anger as I glare at them both. “It’s me,” I snap, refusing to back down despite the fear coursing through my veins.

“Genevieve,” Damien says, his expression unreadable as he studies me carefully. “What are you doing here?”

“None of your business,” I retort, my hands trembling as I fold my arms across my chest in defiance. “But since you’re both so keen on discussing our marriage, maybe you’d like to know that I heard everything.”

“Everything?” Lev repeats, his eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Well, this just got interesting.”

“Stay out of it, Lev,” Damien warns him, his gaze never leaving mine.

“In that case, I’ll take that as my cue,” Lev says, picking up the champagne to walk past us. As he crosses me, he gives me a wry smile. “Champagne, Sis?” he lifts the bottle and his shoulders apologetically.

I shake my head, not giving him a smile back, and he nods before sauntering away.

Damien and I stand there in silence, glaring at each other.

“Maybe I should just tell my father about your true opinion of him,” I spit, my voice shaking with fury as I face Damien. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know what his new son-in-law thinks of him behind his back.”

“Genevieve, don’t.” Damien’s eyes darken, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something akin to a warning in them.

“I will if you don’t start taking this marriage seriously,” I threaten, my heart pounding in my chest. I can’t believe I’m standing up to the notorious Damien Zolotov, but I have to protect my father’s reputation and what little chance I might have to grasp for joy.

“Fine,” Damien growls, grabbing my arm with a tight grip that leaves me no room for escape. “But not here. We’ll discuss this elsewhere.”

“Let go of me,” I snap, trying to pull away from him, but his grip only tightens.

“Keep your voice down,” he hisses, guiding me through the mansion’s corridors. Our footsteps echo in the empty spaces. My heart races as I struggle to keep pace with him, the urgency and intensity of the situation making me forget about everything else.

Finally, we reach a wooden screen at the end of a long hallway, hidden away from prying eyes. Damien pushes it aside to reveal a dimly lit study, its walls lined with books and a large mahogany desk dominating the center of the room. He yanks me inside, placing the screen over the opening to the room.

“Talk,” he orders, releasing my arm and crossing his own over his chest as he leans against the door. The coldness in his eyes sends shivers down my spine, but I refuse to let him intimidate me.

“Start treating our marriage like it matters, or I’ll tell my father everything,” I say, mustering all the courage I can. “You owe him that much.”

“I owed him my hand to you, and I met that end of the bargain,” he hisses at me, his jaw clenched as he studies me with a calculating gaze.

“Sure,” I seethe. “But what about me? This is it, then? My whole life is going to be just a farce with no chance at anything real?” My voice gets stuck in my throat as unexpected tears spring to my eyes.

“It’s just that… I never thought we’d find love. I’m no fool. I get what an arranged marriage is, yet I still hoped, like the foolish girl I am, that perhaps someday, we could be…” I don’t bother finishing my sentence. I don’t know how to finish the sentence. More friendly? Congenial? In love? I wish I could go back in time and take back the words that laid my confused heart bare.

Damien stares at me silently, watching, observing. Then, he speaks. “I’ll take this marriage seriously if it means protecting our families and your interests. But don’t think for a second that I won’t be watching your every move.”

“Good,” I retort, trying to hide the relief flooding through me as I realize I’ve successfully forced Damien’s hand to find a sliver of hope for myself. “Because I’ll be watching yours too.”

Damien’s dark eyes bore into mine, his expression unreadable. “I have a proposition for you,” he begins, and I brace myself for what comes next. “If you keep your mouth shut about what you overheard, I’ll make our marriage life easier for you. No mind games, no manipulation. Just two people trying to make the best of their situation.”

My heart races as I weigh the advantages of remaining civil instead of openly declaring war. What would I gain by telling Father? He might get upset and cause a riot, driving Damien away from me. I would fail at the one job Papa has asked of me, and no one would win in this situation.

“Fine,” I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “But don’t mistake this for weakness. I’m only agreeing to this because it’s in the best interest of our families.”

“Understood,” he replies, and I notice the faintest hint of relief in his eyes. This uneasy alliance we’ve formed is fragile at best, and I know that one wrong move could send everything crashing down around us.

So, I have no choice but to play every move right. I may have been forced into this marriage, but that doesn’t mean I have to be a victim. I will navigate these treacherous waters on my own terms, proving to my father that I am worthy of the role placed upon me.

Which begins by playing the perfect role tonight.

“Let’s get back to the reception before people start asking questions,” I suggest, eager to put on a show for the world.

“Agreed,” he says, opening the screen and gesturing for me to exit first.

Just as we’re about to step out of the private space, a sudden sound from nearby freezes us both in our tracks. The muffled noise sends a jolt of adrenaline through me, and I can feel Damien tense up beside me. We exchange a brief, wary glance, unsure of what’s happening.

Did someone overhear us?

“Stay quiet,” he whispers urgently, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. My heart races as I strain my ears, trying to make out the source of the noise. Could someone have discovered our secret conversation? Or is it just a party guest who’s wandered off course?

As I ponder these possibilities, I feel Damien’s hand on my arm, pulling me back into the room. Before I can react, he presses me against the corner wall near the exit, his body hovering above me. I try to protest, but my words are silenced by his lips crashing down on mine.

The intensity of his kiss catches me off guard, sending a wave of desire coursing through me. Despite our recent argument, I find myself unable to resist the passion that suddenly flares between us. The taste of him, so wild and untamed, consumes me, and I’m powerless to stop my hands from gripping his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

“Damien,” I gasp when he finally breaks the kiss, leaving me breathless and disoriented. “Why...?”

But he slams his lips against mine one more time.