Page 39 of The Russian's Forced Bride
I buried my face in my palms. My head was a spiraling mess. I knew we had an insider working for the bastard and feeding him information—but to think there were things Matvey and Oskar were deliberately keeping from me?
I knew I couldn’t fully believe Joaquin, but at the same time, my gut knew there were truths to what he said.
Oskar and Matvey didn’t give me the full story.
Were they even on my side?
I slammed my fists against the table, swearing under my breath.
I had to get to the bottom of this.
Chapter 12 – Arlette
Being back at work in person was more stressful than I expected. A small part of me almost missed working from home and the comfort it provided, but I simply couldn’t keep that up any longer. There was so much that needed to be done.
My supposed honeymoon phase had ended, and with Father gone, things had to keep going whether I liked it or not. I had learned a few days earlier that the Bratva had now gained majority control over Father’s business.
I was only inaugurated as CEO for public appearances, but behind the scenes, I was just a puppet for the Bratva—a marionette whose strings they could pull at any time. Knowing that cut deep into me like a knife.
Father had worked so hard and even lied to me, nearly selling me off to different men in an effort to boost his influence. But this was the cost he had to pay for my safety, and at least the Bratva still had the decency to let me make important decisions for the company.
So here I was, seated in an office that once belonged to Father—an office I had spent most of my time at, wasting away my youthful years while yearning for attention and love from him.
The office was like any other typical male-owned workspace. It was spacious, a few inches larger than Father’s office at his mansion. The walls were decorated with framed awards and abstract art that I would always gaze at in awe as a child.
A plush seating area with velvet armchairs and a glass coffee table sat in the center of the room, and memories of Father and me sharing a cup of coffee while reviewing documents flooded my mind. Father wasn’t perfect, but therewere times when it felt like it was just the two of us against the world.
When he wasn’t trying to force me into marriage, he was teaching me just how to lead and be strategic when I needed to be.
Sometimes, it felt like he saw his death coming and prepared me just in case.
The black leather chair I was seated on creaked under my weight as I leaned forward, reviewing a report of the company’s weekly finances from the CFO. In the span of hours, I had already held a board meeting in the conference room with the board of directors, laying out new policies for the company.
They weren’t fond of my ideas and certainly weren’t pleased that a twenty-two-year-old woman was bossing them around. But they couldn’t exactly fire me or plot behind my back to take the company away from me. The Bratva at least assured me of immunity. The board of directors, just like me, were puppets with no choice but to obey if they wanted to keep their lives.
Besides board meetings that went on for hours, I already had a PR brief and had signed off on deals with investors. None of these were new to me, and although they took my mind off a lot of crap, I kept thinking about Rafael.
He had come home past midnight last night after his supposed assistant told Eleanor and me to go home. It was the first time I ever met her, and I remembered the pang of jealousy I felt when I looked at her.
She was beautiful—and not in a conventional way. She could pass for a model with her tall and slender body.
She wasn’t rude or condescending when she introduced herself. If anything, she seemed quite panicked as she led Eleanor and me out. I felt ashamed of myself for thinking she was a better fit for Rafael than I was. Not only was she sobeautiful, but unlike with me, I believed Rafael actually shared things with her.
He trusted her. But with me? With me, it only felt like I was some object.
Did he even love me? Or was I just good for sex?
I sighed, running a hand through my hair gathered into a sleek bun. I saw my reflection on the laptop screen. My skin was flushed, freckles visible, and my eyes a dull, sickly green.
A multitude of emotions surged through my heart as I stared at my reflection, until a gentle knock echoed on the mahogany door. Moments later, my new assistant, Rosa—a woman in her mid-thirties—walked in with her hands politely clasped behind her back.
“You have a visitor, Mrs. Kamarov,” she informed me. “A kid claiming to be your brother.”
My eyebrows raised in surprise, and a small smile appeared on my face after that shock faded. Brandon coming to visit me at my office wasn’t something I expected when he asked for the company’s main address the night after we met at Beanies—but deep down, I was glad.
“Let him in, Mrs. Holland,” I said, and she nodded in reply before leaving and shutting the door behind her.
Seconds later, the door reopened, revealing my brother dressed in his usual outfit of a hoodie, leather pants, and silver chains hanging around his neck. His dark hair was messy, and after taking him in, I realized he actually looked pretty good.
