Page 22 of The Bratva's Plus-Size Bride

With at least a touch of reluctance, accompanied by the slightest softening of her eyes, Gemma nodded and took the phone.

“Okay, I guess I’m off then,” Gemma said as she slipped it into her bag. “I just want to get this over with.”

I nodded, maintaining my faith in her, despite being aware of the possible risks.

As she popped the door open and gave me one last look, I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Good luck, and have a good day.”

Gemma bristled at the contact before she corrected herself and pulled a tight-lipped smile, slipping out and taking her things with her.

My heart dropped slightly at that, and while the domestic sentiment felt foreign leaving my lips, I did mean it, and I wanted us to at least follow the norms of a regular couple, even if we were far from it.

We remained for an extra moment as she closed the car door behind her and walked into the building, watching to make sure she got in fine.

I sighed the moment she disappeared inside, left feeling strange about it all.

A sense of guilt nagged at me, but I knew it had to be done. By any means necessary, I couldn’t let that article be published in connection with us, or I'd run the risk of bringing us all down.

Chapter 11 - Gemma

As a journalist, it was against my nature to lie. I had no desire to, especially when I prided myself on getting the truth out so that others could be aware and have reliable sources to trust.

But as I sat there at my desk, actively combing through the article on my desktop and making all the necessary changes, I had never felt more like a liar than at that exact moment.

I felt like I was torn down the middle: one half wanted to keep the article as it was and remain truthful, while the other half was leaning into Ben’s words—understanding that he had a point about tarnishing the Levov name.

A part of me didn’t want to care about that part. That fragment knew, at least deep down, that the Levovs deserved to face the repercussions of their actions. They had done awful things, put people in harm’s way, and did whatever they needed to do in order to cover their tracks.

They were notorious and dangerous, and exactly the sort of people I wanted to shield others from by bringing their crimes to light.

Yet there was so much more to it than that. After the weekend, my whole life changed, and it wasn’t as simple as reporting the truth anymore.

As I reread the article numerous times, glancing at the clock on my computer, I let go of a shaky breath and saved the new version before sending it off to Norman. As I clicked the button, my hand shook noticeably, and I couldn’t avoid the fact that I was being untruthful.

There was a rush of immediate regret in my system as I sat there at my desk, wondering how everything fell apart so quickly. How my life as I knew it was completely shaken up.

My head was a mess of internal conflict and worry to the point I couldn’t get out of my chair yet. I could only sit there and stare at my screen, pondering what exactly I had done.

My life would be at risk if I went against Ben and abandoned his plan altogether. He had enough influence to do as he wanted with me if I did, and that didn’t sit right with me. Still, I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling that I would one day face different consequences—the sobering reality of framing another family for the crimes committed by Ben and the Levovs.

I did not doubt that they were just as bad and ruthless, given how the Levovs felt threatened enough to stomp them back down to a safer position, but I still knew it wasn’t right.

My integrity as a journalist had been completely dismantled. I could hardly call myself a truth seeker anymore, or feel comfortable thinking that I was helping anyone by fabricating that article. Yet I didn’t know what else to do.

I was all alone in the city. I didn’t have family around that I could run to since they were either all dead or went no-contact; I had significantly less money and influence compared to the Levovs, and I had the feeling they would have no problem covering up my tracks if I ever tried to defect.

While I was legally married to Ben, it was all so new, and there wasn’t enough of a bond to tie us together. If he so chose, he could throw me away at any moment.

Obeying him and going along with it was the only way I could keep myself safe. Even if it felt like he was robbing me of water that would’ve otherwise been at my disposal just to sell me a bottle of it, I had no other choice but to accept.

Leaning back in my chair, I rested my chin against a fist and felt as my stomach turned.

My feelings for Ben were completely mixed.

After giving in to him, our moment of passion had been nice. It was everything I ever could’ve wanted from a sexual encounter, and it left me wanting more, but I couldn’t turn a blind eye to the obvious blight of it all.

I was still angry with him for putting me in this position in the first place. He forced my back against a wall, and I didn’t trust him completely.

He seemed more than happy with himself, and despite his attempt at being sweet and supportive earlier, it was difficult to ignore that guarded feeling I kept within me.

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