Page 5 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

***

Father has already left for the wedding venue to see if they require any help before the ceremony begins.

Gael drives me, telling our security detail to follow behind in other vehicles. My hands tremble in my lap, and Gael notices.

“Genevieve, are you okay?” Gael asks, looking at me before turning his gaze back to the road.

I can’t shake the lingering suspicion that something sinister lies beneath the surface of this arrangement.

I force a smile, knowing that he’s been my rock through all of this. “Yeah, I’m just... thinking.”

“About what?” He approaches cautiously, sensing the tension in my posture.

“About our father,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “And these strangers he’s marrying me off to.”

Gael’s brows furrow, his gaze sharpening with concern. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it strange how quickly this whole thing was arranged? And how little we know about these people?” I glance back at him, searching for understanding in his eyes. “What if they forced Father into this because of their ties to the mafia?”

“Gen, don’t let your imagination run wild,” Gael says, attempting to reassure me. “Dad’s a smart man; he wouldn’t put us in danger. It’s a business arrangement as happens in many old, wealthy families, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Maybe not willingly,” I counter, my thoughts racing. “But what if he had no choice? What if they threatened our family? It would explain why he’s been so insistent on this marriage.”

“Look,” Gael tells me. “We’ll keep an eye on things, alright? If anything seems off, we’ll deal with it together.”

“Promise?” I ask, locking eyes with him, trying to find solace in his unwavering determination.

“Promise.” He nods furiously, solidifying our unspoken pact.

We drive the remainder of the distance in silence.

***

Soon, we pull up at Ivan Zolotov’s compound. For a second, both Gael and I sit in the car and take it in.

“Wow, this house—” I begin.

“Mansion, you mean?” Gael whistles.

To get to the main lawns, we entered through thirty-foot-high wrought iron gates with the Zolotov symbol perched on top. We drove through winding pathways lined with blooming roses and perfectly trimmed hedges, leading up to a grand fountain at the center of the estate.

We thought that was impressive, but now we realize it was just the appetizer.

Standing behind is a double-storied house so large it could fit a thousand people in it. I count the windows, and there are over a hundred. The enormity of the mansion takes my breath away.

“What do you think your husband’s home will be like?” Gael asks.

“Hopefully, nothing like this,” I shake my head.

“Yeah, hopefully,” Gael says. Just then, we see my father come up to the car. He knocks and frowns at us as though asking what we’re doing sitting inside.

Gael steps out, and Papa helps me out.

“Genevieve,” Father kisses me on my cheek after he helps me out, his voice betraying a rare hint of emotion. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Father.” I nod, steeling myself for what lies ahead.

“Remember,” he adds, trying to instill a sense of duty in me, “This union can bring great things for our family.”

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