Page 39 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“Have you discovered anything we can use against them?” Papa asks. “Specifically, Boris and Damien?”

My heart races at the mention of Damien’s name, and I think back to the secret I uncovered—the underground fighting that has become his way of coping with the stress of his life, something he’s truly opened up to me about despite having worked so hard to protect it for himself. The thought of betraying his trust makes me feel sick inside, and I refuse to let my father have that power over him.

“Nothing substantial yet,” I lie, trying to keep my voice steady. “They’re very cautious about their dealings, and Damien hasn’t let anything slip.”

“Keep your eyes open,” my father says, his tone cold and unforgiving. “I want something we can use to force their hand, and I want it soon.”

I nod, feigning agreement. The weight of this decision I just made, one little lie, settles on my shoulders, but I know it’s the right one. For the first time in my life, I’m choosing loyalty to someone other than my father, and the realization both terrifies and exhilarates me.

“Very well,” Papa says, seemingly satisfied with my response. “Remember, Genevieve, our family’s future depends on this. Don’t fail me.”

I feel the tension in my chest build, my heart hammering inside me.

“Genevieve,” Damien’s voice cuts through the heavy atmosphere like a lifeline to save me from having to answer further. He stands in the doorway, concern etched on his handsome face as he takes in the sight of my father and me. “Is everything all right?”

“Ah, Damien, just catching up on matters with my daughter,” Papa says smoothly, his expression betraying none of the venom that had been present moments ago. “Nothing to worry about.”

Damien ignores my father, his gaze lingering on me, searching for any sign that I need help. I offer him a small smile, hoping it will reassure him.

“Goodbye, Father,” I say, stepping forward to embrace him. His arms wrap around me, but it lacks the warmth and comfort I always wished it to have. As we part, I murmur, “I’ll be in touch.”

“Remember what I said, Genevieve,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. He could have told me to take care, he could have asked me to keep in touch, he could have let me know he missed me. Instead, he leaves me with a warning.

With that, Damien and I leave the room, walking side by side down the long hallway.

“Are you okay?” Damien asks softly, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” I breathe, feeling the relief wash over me as we put more distance between us and my father. “We were just catching up, nothing big.”

“Good to know,” he murmurs. “You must miss your home,” he follows up with a wistful tone, and the sincerity in his voice sends a warm flutter through my chest.

“Sometimes,” I nod. “It’s Gael I miss most.”

“I understand. Invite him for dinner one of these days, why don’t you?” he suggests with such enthusiasm that it melts my heart.

“Really?” I squeal.

“Of course. He’s family. Our home is his and we can even turn the guest room into Gael’s if you like. He can come and spend every weekend if he likes!”

His thoughtfulness touches me. I look up at him from the corner of my eye, his slightly crooked nose the only thing human on his perfect face. He notices me watching him and looks down at me with a soft smile on his lips. “What?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head. “You’re just sweet.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts.

I laugh at his self-deprecating humor. It’s a rare side to him that I’ve only just seen. In my head, I struggle to reconcile who my father thinks Damien is and what I’m learning of him. Our two views are as opposing as ice and fire.

In Damien’s presence, I feel no fear. I can simply be myself, and he won’t push me in another direction. I can say what I want, hold back what I want and he won’t question either intent. The toxic stress I feel near my father seems to dissipate the moment I’m near Damien. It’s as if his presence alone is enough to chase away the darkness that I’m so afraid has become a part of my life.

As we walk toward the car, hand in hand, I can’t help but feel something shift within me. The knowledge that Damien is by my side, both as a partner and an ally, only serves to deepen the feelings I’m beginning to hold for Damien.

***

The engine purrs beneath us as Damien’s car glides along the moonlit streets. The city’s vibrant lights glisten above us, and I steal occasional glances at Damien, feeling like I want nothing more than to be his.

“Genevieve,” he says, breaking the silence that has settled between us as we listen to the music he has on. “You truly did do a fantastic job during the meeting today.”

I flush with pride at his words. “Thank you, Damien.”

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