Page 60 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“Are you okay?” I ask, worried.

“Just a little tired,” he murmurs.

“Maybe I could wake you up?” I suggest, taking his hand and leading him to the bed, swaying my hips to draw his attention to the shape of my ass in the high-cut lace panties. Normally, Damien would lap this up.

As I guide Damien into bed, I can’t help but notice a hint of hesitation in his touch. He kisses my neck slowly, but his hands seem to be holding back. This isn’t like him—usually, he’s confident and passionate when we’re together.

“Damien?” I ask, my breath catching as his fingers trace the curve of my hip.

“Mm-hmm?” he murmurs, but there’s a distance in his eyes that hasn’t been there before. Instead of getting me fully naked like he normally would, his fingertips graze over the lace of my panties.

“Damien,” I whisper, urging him to look at me. When our eyes meet, I see a flicker of uncertainty that takes me by surprise. “What’s wrong?”

He sighs, pulling his hand away from me. “I told you already. I’m just tired, Genevieve. It’s been a long day.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” I question, sensing that there’s more to this sudden change in demeanor.

“Trust me,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before standing up and walking toward the door. “I’ll make it up to you another time, alright?”

“Alright,” I reply hesitantly, watching as he leaves the room. The disappointment crushes me. It took so much courage for me to put on this show, and all of it was for nothing. I know that any other day, Damien would’ve appreciated it. My heart races with confusion and concern, wondering what could be bothering him enough to act so out of character.

Unable to shake the feeling that something is off, my curiosity gets the better of me. I slip out of bed and put on my robe, making my way to the living area, where Damien’s coat always hangs next to his briefcase. Knowing that he often keeps important things in his pockets and briefcase, I search them carefully, hoping to find some clue about his strange behavior. Maybe something happened in the office? Maybe that guy from the underground ring is causing more trouble and he doesn’t want to concern me with it? I should know, just so I can protect him and get Lev’s help if needed.

I find some papers related to financials, but nothing strange. Everything checks out.

As a final resort, I pull out his cell phone, and I notice a new voicemail left by Lev. My heart skips a beat, my fingers trembling slightly as I press play. I wonder if I’m being intrusive, but I’m sick and tired of people keeping secrets from me. First, Father marries me off to a stranger, and the stranger turns out to be a man with a penchant for underground fighting. Later, I learn that he wants me to spy on my husband, who is winning over my heart. The secrets need to stop. I just… need to know for myself.

“Hey, Damien,” Lev’s voice crackles through the speaker. “I took Gael out like you asked, but no luck getting any info about Gerald from him. The kid’s either really good at keeping secrets and super loyal to his dad, or he genuinely doesn’t know anything.”

My breath catches in my throat as the voicemail ends, a thousand questions swirling through my mind. Why would Damien ask Lev to get information about my father from Gael? What aren’t they telling me?

With my heart pounding and Damien’s phone still in my hand, I collapse onto the couch, my mind racing in a million different directions. The feeling of betrayal sits heavy in my chest, making it difficult to breathe. My own husband has been using my brother to dig into my father’s secrets. Do I confront him? Warn my father? Keep quiet and pretend everything is normal?

Not being able to think clearly, I simply put the phone back and head to my own private room for the night. Damien doesn’t bother to check on me. Well, he did say he was tired—maybe he fell asleep.

Sleep eludes me as I toss and turn, haunted by Lev’s words echoing in my mind.

***

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Despite my restless night, I force myself out of bed, determined to maintain some semblance of normalcy. After I get ready for the meeting, I find a note addressed to me letting me know that Damien has already left for work. There’s coffee and breakfast for me on the table.

I barely get a cup of coffee down before gathering my things and heading to work. I might have a lot going on, but perhaps today, I can clear the air with Damien before speaking to my father. Damien has somewhat won my trust, and maybe he had his reasons for keeping this from me. But until then, I need to show up to work. My commitment to the company can’t be tarnished because of personal issues.

Entering the conference room, the first thing I note is my father’s presence. I glance at him, surprised to see him here after all of his absences. We haven’t spoken since he slapped me. I sit on the only empty seat, which happens to be opposite his. He barely even glances my way, and when he does, all I see is disdain.

With a pained heart, I find Damien’s face in the room. He averts his gaze immediately. The atmosphere is tense, and I can’t help but feel like I’m walking on thin ice. For the first time in a long time, I feel as helpless and lost as I used to under my father’s care.

I try my best to concentrate on the proceedings, taking notes and nodding along, all the while struggling to keep my emotions in check.

“Mrs. Zolotov, would you care to share your thoughts on the proposal?” one of the board members asks, pulling me back to reality.

“Of course,” I say, forcing a smile as I gather my thoughts. “I believe investing in this new venture will be highly beneficial for our company, both in terms of profit and expansion. We have the resources and expertise needed to make it a success as long as we outsource the PR.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Zolotov. Your input is always valuable,” he replies, and I feel a small sense of pride. Despite the turmoil inside me, I’m still managing to hold my own.

As the meeting continues, my mind keeps drifting back to Damien and Gael’s involvement with my father. What could they possibly want to know? And why didn’t they come to me first? The thoughts gnaw at me, making it nearly impossible to focus on the business at hand.

The meeting is about to wind down when Boris says there’s one last thing that requires our urgent, undivided attention. I immediately sit up, feeling a strange cold pass through the air.

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