Page 33 of The Agreement

More than just that.

“It’s time to get ready, yes? Your father and the others will be waiting for you.” Masha stood at the entrance of her walk-in closet, speaking with her head tilted to the side. Like someone might do to a sleepy child. “What happens when we make them wait? You’ve already slept in too late.”

Karine didn’t need the reminder.

And yet ...

Masha still gave it.

“Why do I have to see him?” Karine asked, at least making an attempt to keep the whine out of her words. It was the most she could do. “Why now? I have a headache.”

“Yes, that much is obvious, child. But here’s the thing—you constantly have a headache because you have been drinking too much and having a good time, haven’t you?” Masha asked, amusement thick in her voice as it grew fainter when she disappeared into the closet, presumably to pick out Karine’s outfit for the day. “Too good of a time, apparently. Something to consider, Karine.”

On mornings when she woke up feeling like this, which was more often than not lately, Masha was the one who took the responsibility of making all her daily administrative decisions. She emerged with a cream lace dress that would show off her figure, and tan pumps that had a way of making her legs look longer than they actually were.

At least, her nanny had good taste.

“How about this?” Masha asked, smiling eagerly as she waited for Karine’s approval.

“Isn’t that too much for a morning visit with family?”

Masha’s smile stretched wider as she brought the items over to the bed. “You’re being silly again. You must always look your best, no? Especially for the family.”

The throbbing ache at the back of Karine’s skull sent pain dancing down her spine in punishing steps. She put the glass down on the bedside table, and leaned further into the high-piled pillows, pinning her eyelids shut again.

If only she could feel that delirious joy again—what she felt in her dream when she was circling the tree.

Masha’s hand was back on her cheek in an instant, the back of her palm gently stroking Karine to wake up and face the day.

“Why does my father want to see me?” she asked.

Maxim never wanted to see her.

That was the whole point.

A part of her even liked it this way.

Karine forced her eyes open while Masha stepped away from her, replying softly, “I get directions—not details. You know this. Now, come over here, let’s get you out of those clothes and into this.” She picked up the dress and pumps, swinging them from her fingertips as she added, “I have some makeup laid out on the vanity. I think it would suit the look.”

“I don’t want to wear makeup. I don’t even want to wear that dress.”

Don’t you care?

Karine couldn’t bring herself to ask.

Even her protests came out as barely a whisper. She wasn’t sure if Masha had heard her—she’d not quite learned how to be loud. She watched others do it, but the idea of drawing attention, especially unwanted, frightened her more than she could explain.

She could already predict what the rest of the morning and subsequent day was going to look like. One of those where Masha would have to supply her with a few pick-me-ups. Pills for her to swallow—quickly and discreetly. It helped her get through the day, at least.

If she made any more complaints, Masha would quickly offer her the pills and Karine knew she would readily accept. It was the only way for her to feel remotely human—someone capable of a conversation and a smile, even if it was a little too loose—and then everyone would be happy.

She wouldn’t feel like such a lost cause. Everyone else would pretend they didn’t know the truth.

See?

Simple.

“What beautiful skin you have—women spend thousands to make their skin as soft and pale as yours,” Masha said.