Page 16 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

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.

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