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

Chapter 18 - Genevieve

I stride into the Zolotov boardroom, the new Louboutins Damien just bought me clicking with purpose on the marble floor. All eyes turn to me, but I’m so used to this by now that I don’t flinch under their scrutiny.

“Sorry I’m late,” I explain. “I was wrapping up the presentation.”

“Just hand it to Seleena,” Boris nods toward his assistant.

Seleena takes the pen drive from me and puts it up on the screen.

Today I have a brilliant proposal for our new hotel acquisition, and I’m ready to fight for it as Boris asks me to take the helm of the table to present.

I stand in my spot and look around at the eager faces. Lev winks, and I try not to roll my eyes. Damien gives me that sweet, encouraging puppy-dog smile he always gives before I present anything.

“Well, as we all know, Vegas has been the gambling hub across America. However, people with extraordinary wealth are now finding it a little too obnoxious. The Six Senses hotel in Vermont could be just what we’re looking for…” I begin to explain why we should purchase the property and create a gambling hub in ultra-luxury hotels right on the outskirts of Philadelphia for wall-street executives to visit for the weekend.

“Go on,” Damien prompts. His gaze burns into me, just like it did the previous night, and the night before, and before. Heat coils in my belly at the memories.

“If we renovate the hotel to highlight its historic architecture, with marble bathrooms, terrazzo floors, and Murano glass chandeliers in each suite, it will be irresistible. An in-house gondola service, a world-class spa, a Michelin-star restaurant...” I trail off as I notice the contemplative looks around the table.

“The renovations would be too expensive in a property as old as this one,” Boris dismisses my idea. I don’t mind it as I’ve seen him do this with every other man in this boardroom. He won’t cut me any slack, but for that, I’m grateful.

“Yet, it’s ambitious,” Lev acknowledges, “She’s right about the potential. Rich execs will eat that shit up.”

“And it’s close enough to where the rich folks are. They wouldn’t want to go to Vegas,” I explain. “Too time-consuming.”

“We can include activities for women and kids, for men who wish to bring their families alone,” Boris suggests.

“Better yet, we can make it child-free,” I suggest. “And convert the wives to gambling, too. With the house edge, it’ll double our profits and make up for the couples who don’t show up because their kids aren’t allowed.”

“Brilliant,” Boris grins at the idea, giving me a thumbs up. I feel excited that I managed to bring him on board. I know with time, I can easily get some renovation funding approved along the way.

A chorus of “ayes” fills the room. I duck my head to hide my smile, but it bursts out of me anyway. They support me.

Most of all, Damien and his brothers trust me. For the past month, I’ve been coming in for these meetings regularly. They’ve sided with me when I’ve convinced them of my plans and stood up to me when I’ve missed something. They embrace me as one of their own despite being the only woman in the room, apart from the assistant, of course.

It’s brought out a new confidence I didn’t know I had, and when Damien pulls me into his arms later today, I will show him exactly how much that means.

After the meeting adjourns, I gather my notes and laptop, desire humming under my skin. I already know what’s to come—the same that’s happened after every successful meeting.

When the last of his family files out, Damien closes the door behind them. The click of the lock is soft but definitive. He turns to me, eyes burning, and in two swift strides, he has me pressed against the long mahogany table.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growls, fisting a hand in my hair to yank me into a brutal kiss. I moan, helpless under the onslaught of his passion. It steals my breath and my reason until I’m clinging to him, desperate for more.

He nudges my knees apart to stand between them, the hard length of his erection pressed against my pussy. I rock my hips with a gasp, craving the friction we both need.

“We can’t,” I pant between kisses. “Not here.”

“I don’t give a damn.” His lips blaze a trail down my neck, teeth scraping over my pulse point. “I need to be inside you, Gen. Now.”

I whimper at the raw need in his voice, my inner muscles clenching in response. All the reasons this is a terrible idea flee under the urgency of our desire.

“Yes,” I breathe, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

Damien lifts me onto the table in one smooth motion, fingers deftly unbuttoning my blouse and unzipping my skirt. His gaze scorches over every inch of exposed skin, stoking the flames of my arousal. I am laid bare under the intensity of his possession, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he frees himself from his slacks and sinks into me with a groan, I throw my head back in ecstasy.

“Good girl,” he mutters into my ear before giving it a little bite. “I saw how you took those men down; now watch as I take you.”

His words send a thrill down my spine, the primal possessiveness in his voice turning me on even more. I love it when he calls me a good girl only to make me bad. As he thrusts deep, I scream out his name, and he quickly puts his hand on my mouth to quiet me.

I try to bite his hand playfully.

He shakes his head, driving into me even harder, pounding me fast. “I don’t want anyone to hear us,” he growls possessively. “You’re mine and mine alone to enjoy.” He shakes his head toward the door, “To them, you’re untouchable.”

He releases my mouth.

“And to you?” I whisper, feeling thrilled at how jealous he’s getting at the thought of people outside hearing me and imagining things.

“You’re to be ravaged.”

God, the way he wants to possess me turns me on even more.

The thrill of being taken like this, hard and fast and clandestine, is my undoing. “Damien,” I groan. “I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum…” I speak too loudly, unable to control the titillating thrill spreading through my pussy, razing my body.

I begin to tremble, the muscles of my pussy clamping tight around him. He grabs my hips and slams into my body, and in that instant, I shatter around him, his name a cry on my lips, as he finds his own climax deep inside me.

Panting harshly, Damien braces his hands on either side of my hips. He lowers his head to rest against my chest, his heart pounding as wildly as my own.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasps, and I can only smile, sated and breathless in his arms. There’s no place I’d rather be.

I come down from the high of our passion, acutely aware of the hard edge of the table digging into my back. But the discomfort is a distant second to the warmth and fullness of Damien inside me as he recovers, his body sheltering mine.

He nuzzles against my neck, the scrape of his stubble sending pleasant shivers down my spine. “So perfect,” he murmurs, lips tracing the flutter of my pulse. “So mine.”

A delicious thrill runs through me at his possessiveness. I never imagined I’d find such dark pleasure in being claimed, but Damien brings out a side of me I never knew existed.

I run my fingers through his hair, enjoying the play of muscle and sinew under my hands as he shifts against me. “Only yours,” I whisper back. “But we do have to get back to work.”

He growls at that, the sound vibrating against my skin. Slowly, he pulls out of me, his liquid dripping down my legs. He helps me clean up, and we get dressed.

We unlock the door and step out. “I’m going to get some coffee,” he tells me. “You coming?”

“Sure,” I say, but then I remember my pen drive. “Oh shoot. Would you mind bringing it for me? I’m going to get the pen drive from Seleena.”

He nods, and I begin to walk in the direction of Boris’s office. But before I can, I feel a hand wrench into mine rather painfully.

“What the—?” I begin, turning around.

And then, I freeze. I’m face to face with my father in an abandoned hallway. My good mood evaporates the instant I see him.

He pins me with a calculating look, eyes narrowing at my flushed cheeks and tousled hair. I fight not to fidget under his scrutiny, keeping my expression neutral. “Father. What are you doing here?”

“I came to speak with you,” he says coolly. “You’ve been avoiding my calls.”

Anger twinges in my chest at his words. It’s more than avoiding his calls. Just a week ago, when my first proposal was accepted, he had walked out of the meeting in rage. Since then, he hasn’t attended a single meeting.

His message was loud and clear: He doesn’t accept me in a position of power.

Yet, given all that, I haven’t meant to avoid him, not really. I’ve just been preoccupied—preoccupied with Damien. “I apologize. Things have been quite busy here.”

“Yes, I can see that.” His gaze turns sharp, piercing. “Tell me, Genevieve, how exactly are you keeping the Russo family’s interests in mind when you’re prancing around trying to make the Zolotovs richer?”

I bristle at the implication. “I don’t know what you mean. I would never do anything to jeopardize our family or business. Helping the Zolotovs doesn’t mean I’m not helping us. There’s enough room for a slice of the pie.”

“For a slice of the pie?” He contorts his face in sarcastic fury. “Who taught you to talk like that?”

I say nothing and avert my gaze. Damien’s made me so happy, so comfortable, that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be around my father. No one makes me feel as small as this man does.

He takes a threatening step forward, pushing into my space, and I fight not to flinch away. “You seem far too comfortable here for my liking. Have you forgotten where your loyalties lie?”

“Of course not,” I say through gritted teeth. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do my job.”

His eyes flash with anger. “Watch your tone with me, girl.”

I snap my mouth shut, fists clenching at my sides. I won’t give him the satisfaction of a retort as much as I ache to put him in his place.

“Perhaps I made a mistake, allowing you to take on such an important role,” he continues, almost idly. “Clearly, you need to be reined in and reminded of your duty.”

“There’s no need for that,” I say stiffly. “I know my responsibilities.”

“Do you?” He reaches out suddenly, grasping my chin in a bruising grip. I gasp at the flare of pain, stunned by his actions. “Because I’m not entirely sure you do. You’ve brought me no news.”

“Father, stop,” I plead, attempting to jerk away. He holds fast, fingers digging in cruelly. “You’re hurting me, and there simply isn’t any news to bring.”

“Liar,” he shouts, tone hard and unforgiving. The next thing I know, he raises his hand in the air and slaps it across my face, releasing me with a shove.

I stumble back a step, hand flying to my cheek. I stare at him with wide, wounded eyes, unable to believe he would lay hands on me so violently. Tears spring to my eyes, and never in my life have I felt this… broken.

Just then, I hear something fall to the ground. Embarrassed that someone just saw me get slapped, I look around, and on the floor behind Papa lies split coffee.

Before I can even register what just happened, Damien is there, leaping between us and pulling my father away. Time seems to slow down as I watch their bodies collide, the impact echoing in the dimly lit hallway.

With a fierce snarl, Damien’s fist flies through the air, connecting with my father’s jaw.