Page 9 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“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.

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