Page 1 of The Bratva's Innocent Sold Bride
Chapter 1 - CJ
It’s happening. It took three weeks of grueling interviews and skill tests, but I just got the message welcoming me aboard. I was so excited, I let out a loud whoop in the internet café, but at that hour it was only other unemployed, gamers making their own noise, and a few people who were just there for the surprisingly good coffee and fresh cinnamon buns.
Unemployed no more. Finally, a job. It wasn’t like I had been out of school for very long, but since I had been grinding for top grades at Stanford for four years so I could graduate in the highest tier, two months with nothing but time on my hands felt like forever.
The expanse of free time didn’t suit me, and when I wasn’t polishing my resumé or groveling with my old professors for leads, I tried spending time at one of my family’s charities. It wasn’t that I hated it, but I sure didn’t love it. Helping kids who were new to the country learn to speak and read English was a worthy cause, but I rarely saw the classrooms.
No, because of who I was, I got stuck with fundraising endeavors. Luncheons, garden parties, galas. Those things are fine if you’re a guest, but being on a committee with a bunch of competitive society ladies who’d clawed their way into their lofty positions wasn’t fun. They resented me for a million reasons, but it mostly came down to the fact that my father started the charity. No one could say anything either, because I did my best to help out, and hadn’t asked to suddenly be the head of the committee.
I did, however, ask to be an employee at my father’s company. And no one could say a darn thing about it, because I went in using my mother’s maiden name and my real first name,which nobody outside my family calls me. I jumped through every hoop to get one of the lowest echelon jobs—so low level I probably could have used my real name and no one in the interview chain would have recognized me.
So now, Celine Brighton would be starting at Taurus Ingenuity in a week, instead of CJ Taurus, heiress to the whole kit and caboodle.
Just like I got into Stanford, I landed my first tech-related job all on my own. It was lousy pay, and I was sure to be bored senseless, but I’d take a walk through hell before I cashed in on my name. Not that my father would allow it anyway.
That was the one tiny little blot marring my perfect happiness. Anxiety roiled in my stomach when I thought about breaking the news to my father. He’d been rooting for me to get a job, but he was always adamant that I stay far from the company he'd started in his own college years, which was now worth hundreds of millions. We might have even tipped over into billionaire status, but I didn’t pay too much attention. It was his money, not mine.
He was generous to a fault and denied me nothing, except a job at Taurus Ingenuity. He didn’t even want me to get my degree in computer science, urging me instead to pursue a career in publishing, like my mother. She would have been delighted to take me under her wing at the small firm she ran in London, but as much as I loved to read, I had no interest in how the books got made.
I was my father’s daughter, obsessed with technology, and for some reason, he just wasn’t having it. He’d never once been able to give me a reason other than he despised nepotism and would have taken that same walk through hell with mebefore letting anyone accuse him of installing me in a cushy position that I didn’t earn.
But the position was anything but cushy, and I got it without ever mentioning his name, so I hoped he would adjust and would be proud. He had to know something was up because I asked him to lunch at his favorite restaurant. At least, I thought it was still his favorite. He rarely had time to eat out with me during the day, but I wanted my announcement to take place in public and not at home. Just in case.
I parked my car on the street instead of letting the building’s valet take it, just to give me an extra moment to gather myself. I ran a brush through my hair and put it back in its ponytail, the only possible way to style it since it was so ruthlessly straight. I had on the same outfit I wore to the final interview and hoped that the forest green pantsuit would bring me good luck. I could have worn my old Princess Jasmine costume, and he wouldn’t have noticed, but looking like I was in charge helped me feel like I was.
When I walked into the cozy bistro, he was already seated, but the hostess assured me he had only arrived a minute or so before me. No one wanted to keep Gordon Taurus waiting, not even his only daughter. I should have been hurrying to his table, but I dragged my feet as I watched him with his nose glued to his tablet, a scowl on his face.
He’d just turned fifty-two, but his hair was solid white, a thick snow drift on top of his head. He was fit, but only because his assistant, doctor, and I nagged him about his health. If he had his way, he’d stay chained to his computers all day, which was why I got him a treadmill desk last Christmas. He was a bit distant when I was growing up, but that was to be expected with his powerful position in the world. After the divorce, when I was thirteen, he became the doting dad I was now somewhatfrightened to sit down with. The future I’d been dreaming about since I started college was riding on this.
“Excuse me, Mr. Taurus,” I said in a perfect impression of his assistant’s nasally voice.
His head jerked up, then he blinked when he saw me, and the flash of alarm melted into relief.
“Celine Jane,” he said in a clipped voice. Oops. He was stressed about something, and my little joke fell flat. “You’re too good at that. I thought for sure some emergency came up and I’d have to miss our lunch.”
“Would Rinda actually run down here to get you?” I asked.
The restaurant was only two blocks from his office, which, come to think of it, was probably why it was his favorite. The man was chained to his company. Not a prisoner, though. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.
He waved off my question, never taking me into his confidence about anything work-related. Or anything, really. He didn’t like to worry me. We ordered, and when our mint iced teas arrived, he settled his palms on either side of his bread plate and gave me a look.
There was going to be an announcement, and I could already tell I wasn’t going to like it. I had to move fast.
“I know your job search hasn’t been going well,” he said, holding up his hand in case I interrupted. “It’s not your fault. No one’s getting hired anywhere. Which is why I talked to your mother.”
“You talked to Mom?” I was aghast. Even after nine years of living on separate continents, they still only communicated through lawyers.
“She’s got a flat lined up for you and—”
“Wait, what? Why?”
He didn’t look happy. “Well, you can’t work for an English firm and not live in England. At least not right away. But Cora thinks if you take to it, she can finally open a branch here in the US with you at the helm. Probably New York, but that’s not too far, and I’m there five or six times a year anyway.”
He was babbling because he could see the betrayal written all over my face.
“You went behind my back to Mom?” Now it was my turn to hold up my hand, throwing caution to the wind. “I wouldn’t have a clue how to run a publishing company, and I don’t want to learn. Why did you spend all that money on my degree if you didn’t think I wanted to use it?”
He rolled his eyes as if four years at an Ivy League college were small potatoes, and it was for him. But the point still stood. I wasn’t about to flush all that hard work down the drain.
