Page 74 of Forced to Marry the Russian Bratva

He reaches for his pants, pulling them on with sharp, angry movements. “You're pushing me away because you're scared.”

“I'm not scared,” I lie again. “I'm realistic.”

“Bullshit.”

I don't have a response for that, so I grab my shoes instead.

“This conversation isn't over,” he says as I head for the door.

“It is for tonight.” I toss over my shoulder, not daring to look back at him.

I make it to my bedroom before the tears start falling, and only cry once I throw myself into bed. The tears just don’t stop, especially when I realize the bed feels too damn empty and big without him in it.

***

The next morning, I wake up, grab a coffee, and really start to think. If I want to maintain my independence and have something to go back to when this arrangement eventually ends, I need to work harder.

I need more money to fall back on, because I no longer have the goddamn Z Ventures to fund me. I’ll also need a new office. With the kind of money I’m making now, it’s simply not enough to cover our operational costs, especially now that the funding has gone.

But I know I can leverage the kind of clientele I’ve signed on now. I need to meet them, keep them keen, and sooner or later, they’re bound to refer me to companies as big as theirs.

I check my calendar and notice that Alex from SkyMark wants to meet this afternoon to discuss campaign strategies.

It’s perfect timing because Valentin’s already left for meetings. I don't want to explain where I'm going, and I certainly don't want to see that possessive look in his eyes when I mention building my future without him.

I know what it’ll lead to. Another fight.

I get dressed and text Dmitri that I’ll need security for a client meeting this afternoon. He immediately agrees to drive me.

When we get in the car, I feel mildly guilty for not telling Valentin and sneaking away like this. I know he worries for me, but I’m going to a pretty crowded café, and Dmitri’s coming along, so what’s the worst that can happen?

Besides, this meeting is too important to postpone.

Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the café, and Dmitri takes his usual corner table, while I find one for Alex and me. A couple of minutes later, Alex strides in.

“Alex.” I rise and extend my hand. “How are you?”

“Very good, Gela. Very good, indeed! Thanks for circling me in.” He takes a seat.

“Of course,” I gush, passing him the menu. “You won’t believe the ideas I have in store for you!”

“Do tell.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

We order some coffee and cake and dive right in, explaining strategies and showing mock-ups. It feels good to be back in business and not have to think about Valentin, the Zakharovs, and the complicated mess my life has become.

But ten minutes into the meeting, my phone starts ringing. I silence it, but it rings again. I silence it again, but it rings again.

“Uh…you want to get that?” Alex asks.

It feels so damn unprofessional, but when I see it’s Valentin calling, I get worried that if I don’t pick up the next one or call him back, he’ll send Dmitri right over. How embarrassing that would be!

“You sure you don’t mind?” I look pained even as I ask.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” he laughs, waving me away.

“Thank you!” I gush and stand to move away, taking the call in private.

“Hello?”