Chapter 6 - Genevieve
I wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside the window. The sun is shining brightly, casting a warm glow across the room. I sit up and stretch my arms, feeling the soft silk sheets against my skin.
I grab my phone and notice that it’s a Sunday. Today marks a week since we’ve been married. I feel a flutter of excitement. I’ve been bored this entire week, all alone in Damien’s apartment. He leaves before I wake and returns after I sleep. I’m beginning to understand that my husband is a busy man, but finally, today, he has a day off.
I jump out of bed and get dressed. So far, we don’t share a room. I walk out gingerly, wanting to avoid waking him, and quietly open his door. The bed hasn’t been slept in.
Did he wake up and make it himself? Usually, the part-time housekeeper comes and does that.
Perhaps he’s in the kitchen, making breakfast.
I walk to the common living space and check out the kitchen. Not there. His study? Empty. The living and TV room? Untouched.
And then, it hits me like a pile of bricks.
He’s not home.
I stare around at the house filled with luxury but empty of companionship and begin to feel numb. Memories rush back of a lifetime of Sundays. Gael and I would usually head out for pancakes and coffee, talk about our week. He’d fill me in on ridiculous things that happened at the office and I’d fill him in on the latest gossip from our social circle. It was …tradition. I miss Gael and want nothing more than to call him, but he’d only get worried. He’d think something’s wrong or that I’m unhappy with Damien if I choose not to spend our first weekend as a married couple with my new husband. With a sigh, I push thoughts of Gael out of my mind. Maybe I can call him next weekend.
I walk like a zombie, to go make myself some coffee. And there, on the countertop, lies a note with a velvet box next to it.
“Away on business,” it says in beautiful penmanship. “Attaching the number for your driver and car. Use it if you must. Please have a good day. Love, Damien.”
Damien is away on business, but he’s left behind his mark in the form of yet another extravagant gift. I open the velvet box to find a dazzling diamond necklace that glimmers in the sunlight pilfering in from the wall-to-wall windows.
I pick up the necklace and let it dangle from my fingers, admiring its brilliance. As I put it back down, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My hair is messy, and my eyes look tired. I’m slowly going to drive myself mad being alone in this house far too big for one.
I pick up the necklace and take it to my room, throwing it into the drawer filled with his other gifts. So far, I’ve collected a gold watch I’ll never wear, a perfume that probably costs more than a small car monthly payment, a pair of emerald earrings, and a credit card with no limit. In the corner, the flowers he left our first morning together are wilting near the window. I pick them up and throw them in the bin, with infuriating rage at the loneliness I feel.
In another life, I would’ve thought it’s sweet for a husband to buy his wife gifts. Now, a painful gnawing truth scratches the surface of my old beliefs, breaking through the layers to show the ugliness that lies beneath: I’m beginning to feel that the gifts are a cover-up for the fact that my husband doesn’t wish to be near me. Maybe he never even wanted to marry me. Is he truly busy with work or staying away to avoid me?
I feel a lump forming in my throat. This life of loneliness isn’t one I imagined for myself. I begin to feel angry, sad, and confused all at once. I wish I could talk to him and understand where his head is at, but how can I when I never even see him?
Suddenly, my phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. It’s Anoushka, my sister-in-law. “Hey, Genevieve! Robin and I are in the Upper East Side for the day. We thought we’d swing by your place and say hello. Is that okay?”
“Of course, it’s fine,” I reply, my heart racing with excitement. I haven’t seen them since the wedding and only recognized the number since Damien inputted all emergency contacts in my phone.
“Great! And Lev’s with us, too. He’s a pain in the ass, but what can we do? Can’t exactly chuck him back where he came from,” she groans.
I burst out laughing at the good-hearted sibling rivalry. “Oh, Anoushka. I think we can manage having him around!”
“You sure?” Anoushka says, sounding skeptical. In the background, I hear Lev protest with some colorful curses.
“Okay, the monster’s trying to snatch the phone away from me,” Anoushka screeches into the phone. I hear some scuffling, and then I hear Lev’s voice.
“New Sis,” he says. “I know we got off the wrong foot, but that shouldn’t stop us from having a good time, should it?”
I’ve been so starved for company that, at this point, I’d happily host a stranger if I have to. “I’ll see you soon, Lev.”
“I’ll bring some wine,” he says.
“Okay, sounds good.” I keep my voice level, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Bye!”
As I hang up, I feel a sudden rush of nervousness. Meeting new people has never been my strong suit, especially since this group is connected to Damien’s world. But I push those thoughts aside and focus on getting ready for their visit.
I slip into a casual pair of jeans and a bottle-green satin shirt and apply some of the perfume Damien gifted me. I spend the next hour making sandwiches and a cheese board and cutting up some fruits. Since it’s Sunday and the housekeeper hasn’t shown up, I assume she’s on vacation and fix up the guest washroom.
Then, I head toward the living room for some final checks and realize I’m all done. I make myself a cup of coffee and make my way back by the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, admiring the stunning view of the Philadelphia skyline, when my phone rings.
It’s my father, and I answer with a smile. I haven’t spoken to him since the wedding.
“Father!” I exclaim, my joy shining through my voice.
“Genevieve, my dear,” my father’s voice greets me, a hint of forced warmth in his tone. “I just wanted to check in and see how you’re settling into your new home.”
“Father,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m... adjusting.”
“Good, good,” he replies, brushing over my obvious discomfort. “And how are things with Damien?”
“Things are… alright,” I say, wondering how much to divulge. If I tell him how I’ve spent the whole week alone, he might worry.
“What are Damien and you up to?”
“Oh,” I bite my tongue. “Nothing, really. He’s out for some work, and I’m home alone.”
“Oh?” He doesn’t say more.
“Well, you know, he’s a busy man.”
“Right. And has he been good to you?”
I sigh and close my eyes. “When he’s around, yes,” I lie through my teeth. When is he even around?
“He’s around often?”
“Not so much. As I said, he’s a busy man.”
“Busy with what, exactly?” he inquires.
“I don’t know,” I say, with all honesty. “Work stuff, I guess.”
“And does he happen to discuss these work projects with you?”
“Not really,” I mumble, getting bored of this conversation. “Forget about all this; tell me, how are things at home?”
“Genevieve,” my father almost bellows, shocking me as he does. “I need you to focus on what I’m trying to tell you.”
Suddenly, the air feels colder. There’s a momentary silence, and then, I whisper: “What’s this call about, Father?”
“I need to speak about something serious,” he says, at last getting to the motive for his call. I feel like such a fool. I should have known he wouldn’t casually call to check in on me. When has he, ever?
“Now, listen carefully. As Damien’s wife, it is your responsibility to take a keen interest in his work.”
I clench my fists, feeling the anger rising within me. How dare he dictate what I should or shouldn’t do in my marriage? But I suppress the urge to lash out at him; instead, I force myself to speak calmly.
“Father, I understand the importance of supporting Damien in his work, but I can’t force him to share things with me if he doesn’t want to,” I say, trying to reason with him.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line before my father responds, his voice tight with control. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, my dear. His prosperity is intricately linked with our family’s standing in the business world. I suggest you not only begin demanding updates on his career successes and failings but also convince him to allow you to make visits with him on his business trips. You’ve got a good head when it comes to these things, and you can shape those decisions by your hand.”
“A… accompany him on his business trips?” I repeat his demand, all confused now. Why would Father ask such a thing?
Just then, memories flood back from the night of our wedding. My heart begins to race, and my hands feel clammy as I remember what Damien and Lev had said: This wedding is just a business deal—nothing more. It can never be more.
I start feeling like a puppet being manipulated by unseen strings. The weight of his expectations presses down on me, suffocating any lingering hope of a genuine connection with Damien.
Swallowing hard, I ask. “Father, I need to know, once and for all, why did this marriage take place?”
“It’s time you knew now, Sweetheart,” he sighs. “Our economic standing is deeply linked to Damien’s brother, Boris, and his decisions. In exchange for our mutual benefit, they forced your hand in marriage and threatened to cut all ties unless I complied. I’m so sorry,” his voice drops here in deep disappointment. “I didn’t see another way forward for us.”
My mind reels with the weight of my father’s confession. Forced into marriage for business ties? The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, shattering any illusions I had about unifying two families. I knew that the business had something to do with it, but to now learn that Damien and his family used me as a bargaining chip to force my father’s hand leaves me feeling hollow, like a pawn in a game I never wanted to play.
“Father,” I whisper out, my voice hoarse. “No… you’re not saying…”
“I wish I had better news, Sweetheart,” he says without skipping a beat. “And if you don’t integrate yourself into their operations and find out what Boris and Damien plan next, I’m afraid we could lose out on what was promised to us. You’re the only one who can protect us now.”
Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes as I absorb the harsh reality of my situation. Betrayed by my husband and his brother, thrown into a marriage borne of blackmailing my father, this news strips away any remaining fragments of naivety that clung to the hope of love blossoming from this arrangement.
I’m filled with hot, fiery rage. “Father,” I say, my voice as cold as Damien’s presence in my life. “Don’t worry. I will do what’s needed.”
“Good,” he says, crisply yet with underlying warmth. I know I’ve made him proud. I can hear it in his voice. “Make sure they never find out we spoke of this.”
“They’ll never know,” I promise.
***
Half an hour later, I’m still grappling with my new reality when the doorbell rings. I look up from the couch where I sit, stunned by the interruption. And then, I remember. Damien’s sister, sister-in-law, and younger brother are visiting.
I stand and walk slowly toward the door, smoothing my dress and hair. Before I open, I put on a bright, fake smile. No matter what happens, no one can know I’m plotting to learn more about the Zolotov business. I must play the part of a doting, loyal wife until I ensure my father’s interests are being met.
I swing open the door, beaming from cheek to cheek.
“Genevieve!” Anoushka exclaims, enveloping me in a tight hug. Robin follows suit. Their hugs are warm and surprisingly comforting. I wonder if they know what’s going on behind our marriage.
“Nice to see you both,” I smile and then turn to Lev. He’s got that winning smile that could charm anyone. He, too, envelopes me in a hug and lifts me off the ground for a brief second before putting me back down.
“Come in, come in,” I giggle, letting them pass through.
To my surprise, they immediately make themselves at home. Anoushka kicks off her heels and sits on the recliner, her feet propped up on the table in front of her. “Lev,” she says. “Go get the wine glasses.”
“You do it,” Lev scoffs, the bottle of wine in his hand, as he winks at me.
“I’ll do it, guys,” Robin rolls her eyes and begins walking toward the kitchen.
“No, wait,” I squeak, feeling awkward. “Let me, please.”
“You, dear Sister,” Lev says, wrapping an arm around me and leading me to the couch. “Are not to move. We’re going to handle things around here.”
“Besides,” Anoushka giggles. “You married our brother, and for that, we would eternally have to show you our gratitude.”
“Consider us your personal slaves for helping us be rid of him,” Lev jokes.
I look at both of them, absolutely mortified, and they both burst into big, wide laughter that fills the home with joy.
Robin returns with the glasses, and I insist on opening the bottle and pouring out some wine for everyone. Once we’re all settled in, I go to the kitchen, only to find Robin at my heels. “Please,” she says sweetly. “We barged in on your Sunday plans. You must let me help.”
“Thank you,” I say, truly touched by how sweet she’s being. She helps carry the sandwiches and cheese board out.
Anoushka jumps to her feet. “All this for us?” she asks, her eyes wide. “Oh, Genevieve. You really shouldn’t have!”
“You’re going to spoil us rotten, Sis,” Lev groans as he bites into the sandwich. “This is insanely good.” He grabs another and stuffs it in his mouth.
Anoushka rolls her eyes at him and steals the plate right from under his hand. “Stop acting like you’re starved. You’re embarrassing us.”
“I am starved,” he says through a mouthful. “The insecurity you’ve put in my heart when it comes to food!”
“Oh, will you just get over Thanksgiving from ten years ago?” Anoushka jokes, handing back his plate.
“Thanksgiving?” I ask, curious.
Robin proceeds to fill me in on how Anoushka, Mikhail, and Sergei pranked Lev this one Thanksgiving when they were younger by changing the time on all the clocks around the house and making him believe he woke up later than usual. They told him all the food had been eaten and gave him a plate of bread.
“You have no idea how hungover I was,” Lev tells me, rolling his eyes.
“And we hadn’t even served dinner! You should have seen his sad, broken-hearted face,” Anoushka breaks into peals of laughter. Lev chucks a cushion at her.
Caught up in the moment, I feel an unfamiliar sense of camaraderie spread through me. They’re so different together. At our house, we never had cousins and pranks and laughter. It was just Gael and I, always on our best behavior so as to not upset our father.
But as we speak, I begin to crave the sense of family that the Zolotovs have. Despite being so different, they fit together like puzzle pieces, and I wonder what it feels like to be this accepted by others without the fear of being a disappointment. Anoushka is a prankster at heart, Lev is a rebel, and Robin is a sweetheart. They’re all so comfortable in their skins, so embracing of differences.
The weight of their genuine warmth settles upon my chest, heavy and unexpected. I never anticipated forming bonds with them, yet here I am, truly enjoying myself.
But as Lev proceeds to ask whether I’d have more wine, I realize I’m beginning to feel tipsy. Suddenly, my father’s disappointed face comes to mind, and I remind myself: I am not here to form relationships. I must keep my personal feelings separate and get Father the information he so needs.
“Come,” I tell Lev. “Let me show you where the wine fridge is.”
We leave my sisters-in-law on the couch and proceed to walk to the pantry. I open the large refrigerator and allow Lev to browse through Damien’s collection.
“DuPont 2006. Fancy,” he mumbles, putting the bottle back and searching for another. It becomes clear to me that he knows his wine and would spend a good fifteen minutes hunting for the perfect one, so I seize the opportunity to get what information I can on Damien.
“So, Damien’s meetings must be quite significant if he has to be gone most of the week,” I remark, swirling the remainder of the last wine in my glass.
“Most of the week, you said?” Lev asks, not looking up as he sits on his haunches to examine the bottom shelf.
“Yup. Hardly seen my husband.”
“Well,” he says, pulling out a bottle of Pinot Grigio and reading the label. “He’s not usually this busy. It’s just now that things are getting hectic.”
“Hectic?” I inquire.
“Let’s just say our dear older brother, Boris, is always on the lookout for opportunities to expand the family business and since Damien’s gotten married, Boris is putting more pressure on him to establish newer lines of revenue.”
“Interesting.” I lean in closer, offering him a conspiratorial smile. “Maybe you could give me a hint? After all, being married to Damien means I’m part of this family, too.”
Lev chuckles and nods. “You’ve got a point there. Okay, one hint: that’s not all Damien’s caught up in. Damien believes the family business isn’t enough to support our souls. Boris thinks differently because Boris is as clear-cut as they get. But Damien’s been encouraging me to follow my passions and now, is trying to set up something for me to follow my passions.”
“Interesting,” I say, touched that Damien is thinking of his younger brother’s personal interests. “And what would this passion of yours be?”
“Well, I’ve always loved the social scene. I was thinking about restaurants, but there are enough good ones around, and we’re invested in some. I am now thinking of a gentleman’s club, and Damien’s been scouting venues all week.”
“Really?” I squeak.
“Yup!” Lev says, standing now. “Got it. I think we can use a good Sauvignon Blanc.” He opens the bottle and changes my glass to pour me some from the new bottle.
“We could,” I sigh wistfully, sounding forlorn. “I just wish Damien was here to enjoy this afternoon with us.”
“Genevieve,” he says, turning to me from the shelves where he collects glasses for Anoushka and Robin. “I know it must have been lonely for you this week. But Damien’s got one very important real estate acquisition meeting for the club I want to start on Tuesday and a board meeting with Boris, Ivan, and our cousins that same afternoon for the family business. I think after that’s done, he’ll have some more time on his hands.”
“Thanks,” I smile, looking hopeful. “Let’s hope these meetings are in Philadelphia, and he won’t jet off to London or something,” I joke, hoping to get more information.
“London?” Lev laughs. “Damien values his time too much. Most of his meetings take place in his office. Don’t you worry about that. Now, come on. Let’s go get drunk!” he sings as he walks out of the kitchen.
Bingo. I got just the information I needed. Now, all I need to do is find the address to his office, and I know Papa would have it at the tip of his fingers.