Page 44 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“Anytime, love,” he replies, his grin widening as he catches sight of the mischievous glint in my eye. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to do before we head home?”

“Actually...” I start, not wanting our night to end so soon. “You still owe me that dinner you promised.”

“Of course,” he agrees, frowning a little now. “But we can’t go out just yet. Some of those people might still be looking for us.”

I frown, disappointed but understanding. “I don’t want to be anywhere near that,” I admit.

“Don’t worry, Gen. I have a plan.” He offers me a reassuring smile before adding, “Let’s have dinner on my balcony. We’ll order some pasta and have some wine. The city lights will be our only company, and our night doesn’t have to end just as yet. And sometime later, when it’s safe, I promise I’ll take you out.”

Relief washes over me as I realize we’ve got all the time in the world. It was never about going out. It was always about spending more time with him, and as far as I’m concerned, I could eat dinner in this car if it meant being by his side.

“We have a deal,” I giggle.

He reaches out and gently brushes the hair from my face before leaning back and bringing the engine to life. “Let’s get you home,” he says, driving out into the street.

***

“Bon appétit,” Damien announces with a flourish, setting a plate of steaming pasta in front of me. We’re seated at a small table on his bedroom balcony, the warm evening air brushing against my skin like silk. Below us, the lavish gardens and pool glisten under the city lights, casting a romantic glow over our intimate dinner.

I twist my napkin around my wrist, feeling a sudden surge of nerves. Our eyes lock, and I feel myself blushing.

“Everything okay?” he asks with concern, sitting opposite me. I reach over and take a sip of my wine. I let out a sigh and take the plunge. “It’s just,” I begin. “I realize now that this is the first time we’re eating dinner together.”

Damien studies me for a moment, his eyes darkening with emotion. “I see,” he murmurs. “Genevieve, I really haven’t been around, have I?” He looks pained as he says it, and instantly, I want nothing more than to take my words back.

“We hadn’t met a month ago,” I try to make sense of this. “And now we’re married. I think we’ve both tried our best. It wasn’t just you who didn’t show up the way you were meant to,” I confess, my heart beating wildly in my chest. “I used to think your family was everything that was wrong with the world, but now…”

He cuts me off, his eyes intense. “But now what, Genevieve?”

I take another sip of my wine, trying to gather my thoughts. “Now I realize that your family is everything I ever dreamed a family could be.”

“Genevieve,” Damien gushes, leaning over and caressing my hand in his own. “You have no idea how much those words mean to me. This whole time, I worried you wouldn’t be happy. I worried that I would be responsible for being the cause of your distress.”

“I guess we were both wrong, huh?” I smile at him.

“I guess we were. And as for the not eating together thing,” he says. “It’s not too late to change that, is it?”

“It’s never too late,” I say.

He nods and refills our glasses. The clink of our wine glasses punctuates the calm night air.

As we dig into our meal, I find myself captivated by the way the moonlight catches in his eyes, making them sparkle like the stars above.

“Besides,” Damien says. “Now that you’re going to be involved in business with me, we’ll be eating more meals than you’d hope to. In fact, you might just decide you want nothing to do with my business,” he laughs.

“Never,” I say vehemently. Without thinking, I blurt out a thought that’s been playing in my head. “I couldn’t help but notice how you handle your business affairs with such... integrity. It’s not what I expected from someone in your line of work.”

“Someone in my line of work?” he raises an eyebrow.

I sigh and dab my mouth with the napkin before setting it aside. “It’s just… I’ve observed my father through the years. He’s got ruthless tactics; he chooses to honor his word when it suits him and forget it when it doesn’t. I realized,” I say, with anger now, “that I never learned what true honor was until I saw you at work. I know it’s wrong of me to say this about my own father, but it’s a revelation I don’t know what to do with.”

“Genevieve,” he replies, his gaze never leaving mine, “Everyone has their reasons for what and how they do things. Perhaps your father has his, and we don’t understand them. It’s best not to dwell on it.”

I can’t help but compare his reaction to what my own father’s would have been. Had I said the same of Damien, he would have egged me on for more and thrown him under the bus. But here, Damien is trying to defend the man who wants to bring him down in his own sweet way.

A sudden revelation dawns on me—perhaps Damien isn’t the enemy I once perceived him to be. Maybe, just maybe, he holds the potential for something more.

“What was it like?” he asks. “Growing up with your father?”

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