Page 20 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“Damien?” she whispers.

“Please, Genevieve,” I clear my thoughts and step back. “I mean it. I want to know what you thought.”

“Really?” her voice goes an octave higher.

“Truly.”

She takes a deep breath, clearly gathering her courage. “I don’t agree with the proposal to renegotiate terms with current suppliers,” she says, her voice steady despite her earlier hesitation. “It’s too risky and could bring unwanted attention to our current problems.”

“Why is that?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise at her insight.

Genevieve bites her lip, considering her words carefully before continuing. “Your logistic partners are probably in touch with their competition and, knowing you’re in a desperate situation, could take advantage of you and threaten to make things even more expensive. Instead, for the rising shipping costs... I think we should look into alternative methods of transportation. Find new vendors you don’t work with. It’ll scare the current ones into coming to you with better terms out of fear they’ll lose you. It may be more efficient and cost-effective in the long run. Alternatively, you can create central warehouses. Instead of shipping globally from each factory, collect all the items in central warehouses and only ship out full containers. Full containers will bring your costs down with scale.”

I stare at her, shocked by the depth of her understanding and yet equally disturbed by this revelation. How is it possible that she’s managed to keep this side of her hidden until now? And why am I so captivated by her sudden display of intelligence?

“Damien?” she inquires, her voice low.

“Genevieve,” I run my hand through my hair. “You’re not wrong. Everything you said makes complete sense. I don’t know why nobody thought of it before. I think I’ll take it to the rest in our next meeting.”

“Really?” she asks, looking excited.

“Absolutely,” I nod. “Brilliant.”

“Well,” she bites her lower lip. “In that case, can I come to the next meeting?”

I watch her closely, contemplating her request. She stands there, looking at me with those mesmerizing green eyes, a hint of anticipation lacing her features. But at the same time, today was a one-off thing. I cannot allow this to continue.

It’s difficult to forget that she is Gerald Russo’s daughter, and his recent interference in our matters has put me on guard.

“But Damien,” Genevieve collects herself. “I know how to operate a business. Look, I’ll just get bored here by myself. Please, let me come and help out where I can.”

Before I can stop myself, I reach out and gently hold her arm, forcing her to look into my eyes. I can’t tell her I don’t trust her because of her proximity to her father, but I need to give her an excuse that can lessen the blow.

“It’s not because I don’t value your input,” I explain, my voice softer now. “It’s because it’s dangerous for you to be involved in these matters. The less you know, the safer you are.”

Genevieve’s eyes flicker with a blend of emotions—understanding, defiance, and a hint of vulnerability that tugs at something deep within me.

“Damien, I can handle it,” she insists, looking directly into my eyes. “I’m not as fragile as you think. I want to help, to be a part of something more than just... this,” she motions at the large apartment next to her.

“Genevieve,” I say again, sounding annoyed now. “I told you that I want you to stay out of it. So just stay out of it, okay? You’re not allowed to come to the office and as of this moment, the conversation is now over.”

Chapter 8 - Genevieve

I stand in the foyer of our apartment, my fists clenched at my sides as I glare up at Damien. “As of this moment, the conversation is now over?” I bellow at him, repeating his words. “Did you seriously just say that to me?”

He shuffles his feet but stands his ground. “Yes, I did.”

“How dare you just ban me from the office like that?” I spit out, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

“Genevieve, it’s for your own safety,” he counters, his jaw set in that stubborn way of his. “You know how dangerous this world can be.”

“Yeah, but I think you forget I come from a world quite similar to this! Besides, what makes it okay then for you to continue working in this dangerous world but not me?” My emotions churn inside me like a storm. He is supposed to be on my side, but instead, he undermines my efforts to prove myself to my father. The tension between us is palpable, a heavy weight pressing down on the air. “Is it because I’m a woman?” I finish at last, unable to hold back my bitterness.

He sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head. “It has nothing to do with you being a woman. And everything to do with what I know and you don’t. You don’t understand how dark, how evil it can get, and it’s MY job to protect you. You want to work? You want to stay busy? Fine. I’ll help you set up a business of your own, but you will not involve yourself in this mess.” By the time he finishes his sentence, he’s shouting at me.

Even I’m forgetting how to argue with him. He doesn’t have a problem with me working; he takes offense at me involving myself in mafia business. But he can’t know that that’s the exact arena I need to be in, to learn what I can and pass on that information to my father. If he shuts me out, then I fail Papa.

I feel a surge of panic running through my veins. No, I think to myself. This isn’t an argument I can carry on right now. He’s too angry, too stubborn. I’ll need to find another way in, and another way I will.

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