Page 8 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

What the hell just happened? I had mentally prepared to hate the kiss, to let it be just a quick peck for formality. Never in a million years had I expected to feel such warmth. That, too, from him!

From the moment I first laid eyes on him, he seemed so cold, so calculating. How could a man with such ice in his veins turn around and be filled with such heat?

“Genevieve.” He says my name under his breath. I jerk my head up and crane my neck toward him. It’s the first time I have heard my name on his lips, and it already feels like he knows me.

Suddenly, I feel shy. The way he kissed me, the way he said my name; it all points to one thing in my mind—experience. Maybe I haven’t kissed enough men, just boys. Maybe he kisses all his women like this. This thought sends a strange, fiery jealousy burning through me. As I stare up at him, I notice the frown lines on his forehead. I notice a few strands of white. The eleven-year age gap between us becomes even more pronounced.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand and helping me down the steps. As we walk through the crowd, Damien’s hand warm against mine, I can feel the gazes of the guests upon us.

My father and brother stop us to wish us congratulations. Papa leans forward and whispers in my ear, “You acted well, my dear. Keep it up.”

How can I tell him it didn’t feel like an act?

Gael has a small, sad smile on his face. I know what he’s thinking. Everything is different now. We’ll be separated. This shatters my heart, and I reach forward and cup his cheek in my palm. He momentarily closes his eyes but can’t get a word in as Damien’s siblings come up to us.

I pull away from my brother to greet them.

“Genevieve,” Damien introduces us. “My older brother Boris and younger brother Lev. My sister, Anoushka, and our cousin Vanya. This is the home of Vanya’s brother, Ivan. You’ll meet Ivan, Sergei, and Mikhail soon.”

“Vanya,” I gasp, remembering the name from the signature on the gift I received yesterday. “Thank you for the dress.”

“Come on!” Vanya giggles, linking her arm through mine. I notice a jingle of sound from the multitude of silver bangles she has on. “The reception will start soon. You’d love to change, wouldn’t you?” she nods knowingly.

“Y…yes, please,” I mutter.

“Rosie,” she calls forward a maid. “She will show you to the room we’ve set up for you. See you at the reception!”

“You’ll be okay?” Damien asks, formally inquiring with me. I find no words but answer his question with a nod.

With that, Vanya links her arms through Damien’s, and the Zolotovs walk into the main house. Father goes with them, while Gael stays behind.

“Want some company, Ginny?”

“Yes, please,” I sigh, tugging at my tight dress. I can’t wait to change into the free-flowing satin gown Vanya had sent as a gift for the after-party to our home last night. It might finally let me catch my breath.

***

Once changed, Gael and I walk back toward the reception venue.

I stand outside the doors, trying to calm my nerves. I’m already dreading saying hello to the dozens of people I don’t know. The fact that everyone in there is a stranger to me, apart from Father and Gael, leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Genevieve, come on! The reception is starting!” my brother calls out, snapping me back to reality. I sigh and take his arm.

The minute we enter, most people stop talking. I notice everyone’s eyes on me, and suddenly, I feel self-conscious in the extravagant satin gown that Vanya had picked out for me. I start to wonder if the slit is a little too high up for my leg.

I search through the crowd, returning smiles, looking for a familiar face. Papa has his back to me, lost in conversation with someone, and I catch Damien’s gaze. He stands at the center of the room, looking so composed and collected that I don’t think it could be the same man who kissed me that passionately.

I stand there and wait, wondering if he’ll walk toward me. I keep my gaze locked, and he steps forward.

My heart surges with relief. Even though he’s the last person I want to use as a crutch, I need him to make company tonight.

“I’ll go get us drinks,” Gael says, giving me a playful nudge and leaving me alone to receive my husband.

Damien reaches me just as the music starts playing and gently takes my hand in his. The touch sends a jolt through me, a mix of nervousness and something else I dare not name.

A song begins. “People expect us to dance,” he says, leading me to the dance floor. His hand is secure on the small of my back as we begin to move in sync with the music. The world around us blurs as we dance, his intense gaze never leaving mine. I can feel the heat of his body through our proximity.

He doesn’t say a word during the whole thing. The song finishes quicker than most wedding songs, and he steps aside and gives me a bow. I watch him walk toward the left of the room. Father comes up to us and asks for my hand for the father-daughter dance.

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