Page 53 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

And just like that, the tension melts from her body. She moves closer, placing her arm on my shoulder and toys with the back of my neck.

I turn, glance at Genevieve, and caress her cheek. “I’m glad to hear you say that. But I need to know—has Gerald ever hurt you before today?”

Genevieve’s gaze drops, and she takes a shaky breath. “No. He’s always been controlling but never violent until now.”

She looks back up at me, her eyes glistening. “I’m sorry if I worried you. I’ve never disobeyed or spoken out against my family until today. That must have angered him. I was always taught that a woman‘s duty is to her father and husband.”

I feel a pang in my chest at the resignation in her voice. This vibrant, strong woman, conditioned to silence herself.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I tell her firmly. “You showed true courage by standing up to him, for yourself and for me. I admire you for finding your voice.”

A shy smile tugs at her lips. “Having you at my side makes me feel braver. Like I can take on anything.”

Her admission sends a thrill through me. I lift her hand and brush my lips over her knuckles.

“With you, I feel the same,” I say huskily.

She gives me a little nod and looks away. We drive the rest of the distance without another word shared between us. I glance across at her often, and though she looks calm, I worry at the silence between us. Somewhere in her head, she’s fighting battles I’m not privy too.

Chapter 20 - Genevieve

I pace the length of our living room, my mind reeling. I’ve tried to stay calm, to lean into the support Damien’s extended my way and take comfort in that, but for some reason it simply doesn’t feel like enough. I’m still searching for some form of closure. I know Damien’s trying to help me feel better and that I wasn’t to be blamed, but how can I move forward from the fact that my father physically assaulted me?

How dare he? After everything I’ve done for him, all the sacrifices I’ve made, how could he humiliate me like that in Damien’s office?

“Genevieve.” Damien’s voice cut through my turbulent thoughts. I whirl around to face him. “You need to sit down. You’re going to wear yourself out.”

I hadn’t even realized we made it back home. My mind has been stuck in a loop, the memory of my father’s hand connecting with my face still burning in my mind. I lost all sense of time and awareness of my actions.

The lingering sting of the memory feels like a reminder of my worthlessness in his eyes, and it’s impossible to shake that feeling.

“You’re right,” I sigh, and go take a seat on the couch, placing my head down between my hands.

“Are you thirsty?” he asks softly. “I can get you some water or tea if you’d like.”

“Water would be lovely, thank you.” I give him a small smile.

Damien presses a swift kiss to my forehead before heading to the kitchen. He returns a moment later with a glass of ice water, condensation dripping down the sides.

“Here you are.” He passes me the glass, his fingers brushing mine for a brief second.

“Thank you.” I take a sip, the cool liquid soothing my dry throat.

Damien watches me carefully, his gaze intense.

Damien tips my chin up, his touch impossibly gentle. “Talk to me,” he coaxes.

I close my eyes, allowing his words to sink in, wondering if I should speak the truth. Perhaps change would come from this point on. “It’s just… I wonder, if I had remained silent, he might not have taken things so far, and you wouldn’t have had to get involved.”

“Genevieve!” Damien exclaims, in near disappointment. “You should not apologize for defending yourself,” he says firmly. “Your father had no right to hit you, and if you think I’m going to stand by while he abuses you, then you are sorely mistaken. Imagine if you have a daughter tomorrow. What would you tell her?”

His words pierce through my confusion, finding their mark in the place of clarity I tried so hard to reach. He’s right. If I have a daughter, I’d want her to find her voice, to stand up for what’s right. I search his eyes and find nothing but sincerity. How does he always know exactly what to say?

“Your father shouldn’t have done that,” Damien continues, his jaw clenched. “I know I’ve said it a million times today already, but no one should ever lay a hand on you.”

I swallow hard, touched by his protectiveness and ability to read my thoughts. He doesn’t know it, but his presence has shown me that there’s more to life than seeking my father’s approval.

“You have no idea how much it means to me, to know that you’re standing by me,” I murmur.

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