Page 37 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“One of the most important things on our agenda today,” Boris begins. “Is to discuss our cash flow. We’re suffering on three ends. One, people we’ve loaned to aren’t paying back with the success rate we need. Two, we’ve got tons of cash lying around with no way to transform it into legitimate white capital to expand our operations that require bank transfers. And three, as a result of the cash crunch, our legitimate businesses are struggling to expand. We have that casino that needs to be fixed up and a restaurant chain waiting to be launched. We need ideas, stat.”

I zone out as people begin dropping ideas. Sitting in this one position is causing severe pain down my lower back. I try to reposition myself and feel a sharp pain shoot down my neck. I feel dizzy and close my eyes.

“Damien… Damien?” I feel Genevieve touch my arm gently.

“What?” I perk up, looking around, trying to hold the pain back.

“I was asking what you think,” Boris looks at me pointedly, his expression neutral. But I can see the wheels in his head turning. It’s not like me to be distracted.

“Ahem,” I clear my throat. “I think I would like Genevieve to take this one. Sometimes, a fresh ear is what one needs.”

Genevieve’s voice trembles ever so slightly as she asks, “Me?” I can see a faint blush creep up her neck, betraying her nervousness.

“Damien’s right,” Lev chimes in, his tone encouraging. “Gen, you’ve got a solid business head, and I, for one, want to hear what you have to say.”

“Okay then,” her voice trembles, and her hands shake as she folds them in front of her on the desk. All around us, I notice some men lean forward to hear what she has to say while others snigger. I feel infuriated at the disrespect, but I say nothing for now because I don’t want to distract her. I’ll deal with those fuckers later.

She gulps and takes a deep breath, “I think we could solve the cash issue by expanding our loan interest rates and cutting down our most risky loans. Don’t forego them, but instead…” Here, she pauses, her eyes darting around nervously.

“Go on, Gen,” Lev encourages her. “What do we do if not to forego them?”

“Well, there are buyers for bad loans. They’ll buy you out for less than what you’re owed and collect the loans themselves for a small profit. You won’t get all of your money back, but something’s better than nothing. You get some of your capital out, and with time, that money you get now could grow through investments to beat what you might collect a year or two down the line,” she explains, rambling fast.

“Bloody hell! That’s brilliant,” I can hear Boris’s voice, the sound of his approval resonating through the room. “Can you crunch the numbers?”

“I can,” she declares, now confident. I look down and see her hands are no longer trembling.

“Carry on,” Lev nods furiously.

“For the second problem, use all your cash to buy real estate. You need to convert cash to white, right? Buy expensive property half in cash, half through checks. But then, go to a bank and take a loan against the total value of your property. You’d have more white working capital and invest that in your legitimate businesses. Sell the properties all in white, pay off the loan.”

Why the hell did I never think of that? I look at Genevieve as a few people begin to clap and whistle. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, and her cheeks flush pink as she basks in the applause. In this very moment, the world around me fades away, taking away all the noise with it, and all I can think of is how beautiful she looks. Confident and poised in that tight little suit she’s wearing.

She’s found her rhythm, and it turns me on like nothing else.

My eyes glaze over her figure, and I feel my body respond to the sight of her. She’s sexy, she’s fierce, and she’s mine. I can’t help but touch her thigh under the table, her skin warm and soft under my fingers. A shiver goes down my spine, and I feel her legs tremble.

God damn it. I want her.

“Good job, Gen,” I say, my voice low, and pull my hand away before I lose control of my cock.

Swept away by the sounds of congratulations, none of us had noticed Gerald Russo walk in. We only realize when we hear his angry voice approach the table. “Genevieve,” he sneers with disdain, his voice loud. “Since when did you become Damien’s mouthpiece?”

Everyone’s gazes snap toward the entrance, and there stands her father, his disapproving eyes locked on his daughter. Tension fills the air like a storm cloud, casting a dark shadow over the progress we’d made.

My blood boils at his condescending tone, but I keep my features composed for now. Beside me, I can feel Genevieve stiffen, her confidence faltering under her father’s scrutiny.

“Mr. Russo,” I intervene firmly, “Genevieve is here because she is an integral part of this business, and her insights have proven invaluable.”

“Is that so?” He arches a skeptical brow, eyes flicking between us. “Or is this just another one of your games, Damien? Trying to keep her close so you can control her?”

“Father, please,” Genevieve pleads, her voice wavering slightly. “This isn’t a game. I’m here because I want to be and because I have something to contribute.”

“Enough!” I snap, unable to hold back any longer. My protective instincts kick into high gear, drowning out all thoughts of diplomacy. “Your daughter has shown nothing but intelligence and determination today. If you can’t see that because you showed up late, then it’s your loss.”

Gerald looks taken aback by my outburst, his eyes narrowing dangerously. But I stand my ground, my arm brushing against Genevieve’s as if to reassure her that I have her back.

“Very well,” he grumbles, taking a seat at the table. “But don’t think I’ll blindly support what she has to say just because she’s my daughter.”

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