Page 18 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“But I think I will, especially when I become an investor. I was thinking we could go in as 50-50 partners. I don’t care how you split your stake, but my half remains with me.”

“You’re delusional,” I say, without skipping a beat. “There won’t be any need for an investor in this deal, Russo.”

“Not even for the two million price point off the property? You know, I could call the owner and bar him from even selling it to you in the first place.”

I clench my jaw, battling the urge to explode at Gerald’s blatant threat. He’s overstepping his boundaries, assuming he has control over everything. He’s acting like he’s one of us when he isn’t. But I won’t let him manipulate me or my family’s affairs.

“You’re crossing a line, Russo,” I warn, my voice cold and firm. “This is not a negotiation. This is Lev’s project, and your interference is unwelcome.”

I end the call before he can even reply.

The tension follows me as I head to the meeting with Boris, Lev, and our cousins. I can’t seem to shake off Gerald Russo’s sudden interest in all our work. This past week, I’ve been getting more and more interference from his end, and today, his actions have brought my lingering doubts to validation.

It’s clear to me that Gerald Russo wants to become a part of us, that opportunistic bastard. But I won’t let him have that satisfaction.

***

I arrive at Boris’s office within half an hour. As I enter the room, I’m greeted by the familiar faces of some of our family’s inner circle. Ivan, Sergei, Mikhail, and Lev are all seated around the table, their expressions serious and focused. The atmosphere in the conference room is charged with urgency as we’re all set to discuss the rising shipping costs that threaten the bottom line of our operations. I see secretaries crunching numbers, assistants setting up the PowerPoint slides, and chairs being placed in the back for observers and associates.

“Where’s Boris?” I ask after greeting them all.

“He’s outside.”

“We better tell him to come so we can start,” I sigh, rubbing my temple between my hands. My head hurts.

“He’s with your wife,” Sergei says, winking at me.

I turn to Sergei, expression unchanging as I try to ensure he doesn’t see me sweat. “Excuse me?”

“You heard right,” Sergei whistles and leans back in his chair.

I stare at the door, and within seconds, it swings open, and Boris and Genevieve walk in. Boris has her arm in his, and they’re both laughing heartily, her head thrown back. I have to physically stop myself from gaping at the image of my wife dressed in a sleek business suit that clings to her figure like a second skin. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, accentuating her high cheekbones and sharp, intelligent eyes. Time stands still as I take in how incredible she looks. Powerful, fierce, fucking sexy.

But why the hell is she here, looking like that?

“Genevieve,” my voice draws her eyes to me. “What are you doing here?”

“Damien,” she replies warmly, ignoring the curious stares from our cousins and Lev. “I thought it was time I attended one of these meetings since it’s the only chance I have of spending any time with you.”

“Whatever for?” I ask coldly and wonder what she’s playing at. As my wife, she should have discussed this with me prior to just showing up.

“Relax, Brother,” Boris says warmly. “Genevieve wanted to drop by and give you a surprise. When I said you have a meeting, I heard a little complaint about how she hardly gets to see you. She’s bored out of her mind and decided to come on by and see what you spend your time on. So, I stepped in, made a decision, and we reached a conclusion. She’s going to sit in the meeting until we’re done, learn a little more about our work and then the two of you have the rest of the day off.”

Genevieve nods enthusiastically, a big smile on her face. When Boris is done speaking, she gets on her toes and gives him a quick kiss on his cheek before showing herself to one of the seats at the end of the room. She sits where I can directly see her.

“Now,” claps Boris. “Shall we begin?”

A million protests go through my head. Genevieve has no business being here. However, looking around at the nonchalant expressions on my brothers’ and cousins’ faces, I know that the wisest thing to do would be to accept this unexpected turn of events and get on with the meeting.

I’ll get to the bottom of this situation with Genevieve later.

“Alright, then,” I say hesitantly. Our eyes lock for a moment, and the air between us crackles with an unspoken tension. As she settles into her chair and pulls out her notebook, I notice the way her fingers drum impatiently on the armrests, betraying her calm facade.

The fact that she’s got a notebook doesn’t go unnoticed by me.

“Let’s get down to business,” I say, eager to move past Genevieve’s presence. “We need to discuss the rising shipping costs for our arms trade.”

Ivan leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s getting out of hand,” he admits with a scowl. “Our profits are taking a hit, and we need to find a solution.”

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