Page 19 of The Russian’s Forced Bride (Kamarov Bratva #2)

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 there were 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 so beautiful, 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.

“Hey, sis.” He grinned cheekily at me, stretching out his hands that held onto a leather bag.

He wriggled his brows playfully at me with a laugh before he made his way over and took the seat across from me, dumping the leather bag onto my desk.

I eyed the bag curiously. “What’s that?”

“Your lunch,” he replied, shifting it closer to me.

My brows rose tentatively as I reached out to grab the leather bag, tearing it open like a kid unveiling a Christmas present.

I pulled open the lid of the container, suspicious that he was just playing me, but then the aroma of garlic—along with the heat from the plate—was enough for me to know he was serious.

A glint of joy and warmth brightened my eyes as the lid came off, revealing the mac and cheese that filled the plate.

My stomach growled immediately as I grabbed the fork, shoved the food into my mouth, and moaned at the flavors bursting inside.

I peeked at Brandon, who simply watched me with a cocky smirk.

“I know, I know. I’m a good cook,” he boasted.

I nodded in agreement. I hadn’t eaten food as good as this in weeks. We still hadn’t hired any cooks since Rafael was literally suspicious of everyone. So, if I wasn’t ordering takeout, I was cooking—and we all knew my cooking wasn’t exactly the best.

Once I finished eating, I carefully dabbed my lips with my napkin, then packed up the empty package.

“You really are good, Brandon. I think I’m gonna hire you as a cook,” I teased him, and he snorted in reply.

“What?” I asked. “You’d be paid really well.”

“Hell no. The last time I checked, your husband’s a possessive freak. If it weren’t for the money, I would’ve asked you to divorce him,” Brandon claimed, and my laughter rang out, bouncing off the corners of my office.

Well, Rafael could be possessive—but I mean, that was because he wanted me to be safe. Or maybe I was just being delusional. Either way, it was good that Brandon didn’t know the full truth of my situation. Hell, not even Jacob knew everything.

Even sitting at the CEO’s desk, I still lacked full authority over Father’s companies.

I reached out to Brandon, taking his olive-toned hand into mine and squeezing gently.

“Rafael isn’t a bad husband. And one of these days, I’ll make sure you two meet and know just how wrong your perspectives of each other are.”

Brandon rolled his eyes. “Heard a lot of sketchy stuff about that guy. Trust me, sis, I honestly don’t want to get to know him.”

I shrugged in response. It was fair enough—and besides, Rafael had this crazy look in his eyes when I mentioned Brandon was my half-brother. And knowing Rafael, he probably did a background check on the poor kid.

Aside from that, though, I wondered if Alice or Jacob knew about Brandon. Surely, he would’ve revealed himself to them.

My eyes returned to Brandon, who was now busy on his phone, and when he saw me looking, he quickly glanced away.

“What?” he asked, an inquisitive brow raised.

“Well, don’t you want to meet Dad’s wife, Alice? And we have an adopted brother, too, but he’s all the way in New Jersey. Though if you want, I can fly us over to go see him.”

Brandon’s features twisted in confusion before something seemed to click in his head.

“They’re not really family, Ari,” he said, placing his phone down. “We’re the only ones that have the Whitmore blood in us. They’re just accessories.”

Accessories .

I frowned slightly. I didn’t exactly see Jacob as just an accessory. He was there for me when Dad wasn’t, and even if he sometimes felt like an outsider, his presence in my life made it worth fighting for.

Hell, one of the main reasons I agreed to marry Rafael was because I wanted to keep my only remaining family safe— and that even included Alice, who hardly ever acknowledged my presence.

“They’re not accessories to me, Brandon. And if you knew Jacob, I bet you’d love him way more.” I laughed.

Brandon then muttered something under his breath about trying. It was cute watching him act like he wasn’t interested in meeting anyone else, and I found myself wishing we had grown up together. He probably had a tough childhood, taking care of himself and his mother until she passed away.

I still had a lot of questions for him, but I figured we could take it slow. Besides, I was beginning to enjoy his presence more than I ever would’ve expected.

It was nice not to feel paranoid or scared at every turn, but just to be with someone and talk.

I missed that normalcy.

By evening, I returned home after dropping Brandon off at his apartment. The day had gone quite well since I spent most of it with Brandon and working.

As I stepped into the house, a gust of air swept through—a sign that I was the only one home. I took a deep breath, closed the door behind me, and headed to the master bedroom that Rafael and I now shared.

My expression saddened further when I switched on the light to reveal that Rafael hadn’t been home all day. The king-sized bed situated at the room’s center was properly laid in its usual velvety sheets, and the black floor-to-ceiling curtains were drawn closed.

The room also reeked strongly of Rafael’s scent—woodsy, mixed with hints of tobacco from the cigarette he usually smoked—and while these scents usually comforted me on days when he wasn’t around, they suddenly made my stomach churn uncomfortably.

I scrunched my nose, walking over to draw the curtains and open the windows so the strong scent could leave, then began to take off my clothes and shoes as the day’s toll started to affect me. After that, I headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

Walking in, I was hit by a sudden wave of nausea like a bus, making me double over as I gasped for air and hurried to the sink, holding onto it tightly.

My body felt weak and strained in a matter of seconds, and I felt tears burning in my eyes as the contents of what Brandon had cooked for me spilled inside.

Shit.

My head was spinning, but I didn't let go of the sink until I finished throwing up. Afterward, I cleaned everything up, even though it felt like I was floating outside of my body.

I then had a warm shower before retreating to bed in my robe. The gust of air seeping in through the windows made me shiver, and I yearned for the warmth Rafael’s body usually gave me.

I really hoped I wasn’t sick. Maybe it was because of the pasta Brandon gave me. After all, it had so much garlic in it.

I nodded to myself.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Pulling the duvet closer to my body, I couldn’t help but think of Rafael. I hadn’t seen him since he went up to the VIP room at the club while I danced with Eleanor. He said he wasn’t pissed, but I wondered why he hadn’t come home.

What was happening?

Why was I being kept in the dark?

I hated it—not knowing where to stand or what to do. It made me feel useless.

As my eyelids dropped, I thought of the many things I could do to help out Rafael in finding Joaquin.