Page 40 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“I owe you an apology for last time,” he frowns. “I’m afraid I was too short-sighted to see how much you bring to the table.”

My mind goes back to the argument we had after I crashed that first meeting. He’d been upset and banned from attending another. Automatically, my mind goes to what happened right after, and I bite my lower lip, trying to contain my desire to reach out and touch him, just to feel the same fire I’d felt when he’d undressed me.

He pulls me out of my dirty thoughts, and I try to focus on his words, but all I can think about is those soft, luscious lips he’s speaking through. I crave to kiss them.

“Your professionalism and intelligence never cease to impress me,” he continues, looking at me now with those ice-blue eyes that make me choke on the air I breathe. “Would you like to celebrate with dinner tonight? Just the two of us.”

My heart skips a beat at his invitation, surprised that he wants to spend more time together after such a long day. Does this mean he’s starting to feel the same way I do? He wants to spend time with me, voluntarily? Thrilled, an exhilarating happiness blooms within me at the thought of spending a quiet evening alone with him, which could hopefully lead to more. “I would love that,” I reply, my voice coming out hoarse and strained.

“Amazing,” he whispers, his voice sounding so damn sexy that I want to suggest we skip dinner altogether and fast forward to the aftermath in the bedroom. “I know the perfect place.”

I sigh. Damien’s too much of a gentleman to even entertain my suggestion. Oh well, dinner it is.

As we continue our journey home, the tension from the earlier events of the day suddenly dissipates. In its place, an excited anticipation fills me; a spark of something new and thrilling kindling between us.

But before we can fully embrace this newfound connection, a sudden intrusion shatters the peaceful atmosphere. A group of cars swarms around us from both sides, forcing Damien to slow down.

“What the hell?” he exclaims, looking out from the left and right. He speeds up, and to our surprise, the cars do too. He slows down, and so do the cars.

His eyes go to the rearview mirror. I follow his gaze, and an entire convoy is at our tails. He takes a sharp right, and the cars stay with us.

“Shit,” he says, his face growing cold. “We’re being followed.”

“What the hell is going on?” I whisper, fear wrapping its icy tendrils around my heart.

“Stay calm, Genevieve,” Damien commands, his voice steady even as his hands grip the wheel with white-knuckled intensity.

The mysterious cars continue to encroach on our vehicle, their intentions unclear and ominous. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize we’re trapped, cornered like prey in a hunter’s snare.

“Damien…” I say, my voice trembling with barely contained terror.

“Trust me,” he reassures me, his eyes never leaving the road. “I’ll get us out of this.”

Chapter 15 - Damien

I glance in the rearview mirror, and my heart skips a beat. The three cars tailing us are far too close for comfort. They have their headlights on full beam, blinding me. I begin to panic, not knowing who it is and what they might want.

My only concern is keeping Genevieve safe. I need to know who we are dealing with in order to decide what must be done next.

I take a swerve onto a wider path, allowing two cars to come to either side of us. I look to my right and focus intently. Then, I recognize the man sitting by the driver’s side. I could never forget him, with his flaming red curly hair. It’s one of Alexai’s lackeys.

Alexai. God damn it. I ignored a few of his calls today, but I would have called him back tomorrow. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since we cracked a deal at the boxing ring. The match never ended and the deal never reached fruition, what with the cops turning up.

“Damien, what’s going on?” Genevieve asks, her voice trembling with fear.

I suddenly feel furious. He’s shown no patience, and he’s sent his men to scare not just me but my wife. That won’t do.

“Genevieve, listen to me,” I say, gripping the wheel tightly. “We’re being followed by some dangerous people. I need you to trust me right now.”

“Okay,” she whispers, her eyes wide with terror.

With that, I slam my foot on the gas pedal, accelerating as fast as the car can handle. The engine roars as we tear down the street, weaving through traffic like a snake. I can feel Genevieve’s grip on my arm, her nails digging into my skin.

“Damien, please drive slower,” she begs, her voice barely audible over the sound of screeching tires and honking cars.

“I can’t with those men after us,” I explain hurriedly, my focus split between the road and the cars behind us. The ones by our sides have trailed behind, too. “Just trust me.”

As I make a sharp turn onto a side street, I notice that the cars are still hot on our tail. I push the car even harder, my tires skidding across the pavement. They follow.

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