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

Chapter 14 - Genevieve

After the meeting ends, most people around the table get up to acquaint themselves with me. I bask in the glow of their praises, trying to remain grounded while acknowledging them with humility. In this moment of complete and utter joy, I think of Gael. He’d be so proud of me, if he could see me now. Since we were kids, my brother always told me he thought I deserved a seat at the table and now, that’s just what I’m getting.

Damien and Lev stand in the periphery, silently supporting me with pride. Once most people are gone, my father comes up to me. “Can I talk to you in private?” he asks. He glowers at me in the same manner he always did when I upset him as a child. He holds his hands clenched in front of his waist and tilts his head back, glaring at me from the top of his nose. I say nothing, just nod.

He grips my arm from the top and pulls me out into the hallway. I pass Damien and Lev, and they watch us leave with stoic faces. The brightly lit hallway, seeped in white light, feels clinical and suffocating as my father stops me against the wall and leans in over me. My heart races in anticipation of what he’s about to say, but I force myself to keep a straight face. I can’t let him see how much his words affect me.

He’ll only think I’m weak.

“What the hell was that?” he asks me through gritted teeth, his voice low and menacing, filled with anger I’ve come to know all too well.

“Father, I was just trying to do what you asked of me,” I cover my tracks. “You requested that I go for meetings with Damien, didn’t you?”

“You wretched fool,” his lips quiver with rage. “Your job was to shadow him, not to involve yourself in his business. I don’t want you to ruin my plans by interfering with the Zolotovs and preventing them from making a mistake that could ruin my plans!”

“Plans?” I ask cautiously, curiosity piqued. What could my father have in store for the Zolotovs?

Gerald’s lips curl into a sneer. “Boris and his brothers are a stain on the Zolotov empire. They’re reckless and irresponsible, and their actions will be their undoing. They think they’re oh so mighty, given their last name, but they aren’t. They’re outcasts, trying to fit in where they don’t belong. We’ll use their weaknesses against them to bring them down.”

My nails dig into my palms as I clench my fists, fighting the urge to lash out at him. If this was his plan all along, to bring the Zolotovs down, then why did he make me one of them? Tears spring to my eyes, and I ask with mild defiance: “Why did you marry me off to Damien then?”

Confusion sweeps through me as I try to understand what my father is playing at.

His gaze pierces through me, seeing right into my soul. “You were married into the Zolotov family for a reason, Genevieve. To keep an eye on them, to gather information that we can use against them when the time comes.” His words hit me like a slap to the face, the realization that I’m nothing but a chess piece on the board for him.

“You listen to me now, Genevieve. Do not speak for your husband in these meetings. Do not stop him and his stupid, arrogant brothers from making a mistake. If they ask for an opinion, sabotage them. I don’t care about this sham of a marriage, but it has given us the perfect opportunity to humble those arrogant Zolotovs.”

I clench my fists even tighter in anger, my nails breaking the skin. How dare he speak ill of Damien and his family? A surge of protectiveness washes over me, but I suppress the emotion, knowing better than to reveal my true thoughts to my father. They’ve treated me with nothing but kindness since we married, and yet, I remain silent despite the burning anger inside me. I remind myself that I must play my part as the dutiful daughter for now before my father turns against me, too.

Instead, I nod, letting him believe I’m on his side. But deep down, I know I won’t be able to stand by and watch him destroy the family I married into.

“Have you discovered anything we can use against them?” Papa asks. “Specifically, Boris and Damien?”

My heart races at the mention of Damien’s name, and I think back to the secret I uncovered—the underground fighting that has become his way of coping with the stress of his life, something he’s truly opened up to me about despite having worked so hard to protect it for himself. The thought of betraying his trust makes me feel sick inside, and I refuse to let my father have that power over him.

“Nothing substantial yet,” I lie, trying to keep my voice steady. “They’re very cautious about their dealings, and Damien hasn’t let anything slip.”

“Keep your eyes open,” my father says, his tone cold and unforgiving. “I want something we can use to force their hand, and I want it soon.”

I nod, feigning agreement. The weight of this decision I just made, one little lie, settles on my shoulders, but I know it’s the right one. For the first time in my life, I’m choosing loyalty to someone other than my father, and the realization both terrifies and exhilarates me.

“Very well,” Papa says, seemingly satisfied with my response. “Remember, Genevieve, our family’s future depends on this. Don’t fail me.”

I feel the tension in my chest build, my heart hammering inside me.

“Genevieve,” Damien’s voice cuts through the heavy atmosphere like a lifeline to save me from having to answer further. He stands in the doorway, concern etched on his handsome face as he takes in the sight of my father and me. “Is everything all right?”

“Ah, Damien, just catching up on matters with my daughter,” Papa says smoothly, his expression betraying none of the venom that had been present moments ago. “Nothing to worry about.”

Damien ignores my father, his gaze lingering on me, searching for any sign that I need help. I offer him a small smile, hoping it will reassure him.

“Goodbye, Father,” I say, stepping forward to embrace him. His arms wrap around me, but it lacks the warmth and comfort I always wished it to have. As we part, I murmur, “I’ll be in touch.”

“Remember what I said, Genevieve,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. He could have told me to take care, he could have asked me to keep in touch, he could have let me know he missed me. Instead, he leaves me with a warning.

With that, Damien and I leave the room, walking side by side down the long hallway.

“Are you okay?” Damien asks softly, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” I breathe, feeling the relief wash over me as we put more distance between us and my father. “We were just catching up, nothing big.”

“Good to know,” he murmurs. “You must miss your home,” he follows up with a wistful tone, and the sincerity in his voice sends a warm flutter through my chest.

“Sometimes,” I nod. “It’s Gael I miss most.”

“I understand. Invite him for dinner one of these days, why don’t you?” he suggests with such enthusiasm that it melts my heart.

“Really?” I squeal.

“Of course. He’s family. Our home is his and we can even turn the guest room into Gael’s if you like. He can come and spend every weekend if he likes!”

His thoughtfulness touches me. I look up at him from the corner of my eye, his slightly crooked nose the only thing human on his perfect face. He notices me watching him and looks down at me with a soft smile on his lips. “What?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head. “You’re just sweet.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts.

I laugh at his self-deprecating humor. It’s a rare side to him that I’ve only just seen. In my head, I struggle to reconcile who my father thinks Damien is and what I’m learning of him. Our two views are as opposing as ice and fire.

In Damien’s presence, I feel no fear. I can simply be myself, and he won’t push me in another direction. I can say what I want, hold back what I want and he won’t question either intent. The toxic stress I feel near my father seems to dissipate the moment I’m near Damien. It’s as if his presence alone is enough to chase away the darkness that I’m so afraid has become a part of my life.

As we walk toward the car, hand in hand, I can’t help but feel something shift within me. The knowledge that Damien is by my side, both as a partner and an ally, only serves to deepen the feelings I’m beginning to hold for Damien.

***

The engine purrs beneath us as Damien’s car glides along the moonlit streets. The city’s vibrant lights glisten above us, and I steal occasional glances at Damien, feeling like I want nothing more than to be his.

“Genevieve,” he says, breaking the silence that has settled between us as we listen to the music he has on. “You truly did do a fantastic job during the meeting today.”

I flush with pride at his words. “Thank you, Damien.”

“I owe you an apology for last time,” he frowns. “I’m afraid I was too short-sighted to see how much you bring to the table.”

My mind goes back to the argument we had after I crashed that first meeting. He’d been upset and banned from attending another. Automatically, my mind goes to what happened right after, and I bite my lower lip, trying to contain my desire to reach out and touch him, just to feel the same fire I’d felt when he’d undressed me.

He pulls me out of my dirty thoughts, and I try to focus on his words, but all I can think about is those soft, luscious lips he’s speaking through. I crave to kiss them.

“Your professionalism and intelligence never cease to impress me,” he continues, looking at me now with those ice-blue eyes that make me choke on the air I breathe. “Would you like to celebrate with dinner tonight? Just the two of us.”

My heart skips a beat at his invitation, surprised that he wants to spend more time together after such a long day. Does this mean he’s starting to feel the same way I do? He wants to spend time with me, voluntarily? Thrilled, an exhilarating happiness blooms within me at the thought of spending a quiet evening alone with him, which could hopefully lead to more. “I would love that,” I reply, my voice coming out hoarse and strained.

“Amazing,” he whispers, his voice sounding so damn sexy that I want to suggest we skip dinner altogether and fast forward to the aftermath in the bedroom. “I know the perfect place.”

I sigh. Damien’s too much of a gentleman to even entertain my suggestion. Oh well, dinner it is.

As we continue our journey home, the tension from the earlier events of the day suddenly dissipates. In its place, an excited anticipation fills me; a spark of something new and thrilling kindling between us.

But before we can fully embrace this newfound connection, a sudden intrusion shatters the peaceful atmosphere. A group of cars swarms around us from both sides, forcing Damien to slow down.

“What the hell?” he exclaims, looking out from the left and right. He speeds up, and to our surprise, the cars do too. He slows down, and so do the cars.

His eyes go to the rearview mirror. I follow his gaze, and an entire convoy is at our tails. He takes a sharp right, and the cars stay with us.

“Shit,” he says, his face growing cold. “We’re being followed.”

“What the hell is going on?” I whisper, fear wrapping its icy tendrils around my heart.

“Stay calm, Genevieve,” Damien commands, his voice steady even as his hands grip the wheel with white-knuckled intensity.

The mysterious cars continue to encroach on our vehicle, their intentions unclear and ominous. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize we’re trapped, cornered like prey in a hunter’s snare.

“Damien…” I say, my voice trembling with barely contained terror.

“Trust me,” he reassures me, his eyes never leaving the road. “I’ll get us out of this.”