Page 24 of His Forced Bride
I close my eyes and press my free hand against my forehead.
My employees are watching me, waiting to see if their boss will hold everything together or fall apart completely.
"What do you want?" I repeat.
"Come to me tonight. We need to discuss wedding arrangements."
"I'm not coming anywhere near you."
"Then I suppose those buyers were right to cancel their orders. Who wants to work with an unstable company run by an irrational woman?"
The violent anger I felt only moments ago as I learned my major buyers are backing out already surges to my chest with renewed vigor.
More buyers will withdraw.
More contracts will disappear.
My company will die by inches while I watch helplessly.
"You bastard."
"Perhaps. But I'm a bastard who can save your business."
His tone shifts, becomes almost conversational.
"Seven o'clock tonight. My driver will collect you."
"I won't?—"
"You will. Because the alternative is watching everything you've built crumble into dust."
The line goes quiet for a moment.
"I'd rather have a willing partner than a broken one, Inessa. But willing or broken, you'll be my wife on Thursday."
The call ends, leaving me staring at the phone in my shaking hand.
The rage has transformed into something colder now, more calculating.
He's backing me into a corner, cutting off every avenue of escape until marriage becomes the only path forward.
I dial Alina's number with fumbling fingers, and before it even rings thrice, she's standing in my office.
Her eyes flick to Marina who is stooped over, picking up the glass.
I see a brief flash of recognition and then she turns to me, letting Marina stand and pass by her to the outer office before she closes the door and then speaks.
"How are you holding up?" she asks.
"I'm not."
The words come out broken.
"He's destroying everything. The buyers are gone, the accounts are frozen, my lawyer won't take my calls. I can't even pay my employees."
"Can you fight it? Take him to court?" Alina crosses to my desk and perches on the edge while I sink back into my chair and bury my face in my hands.
"With what money? And which court? He probably owns half the judges in St. Petersburg."
