Page 36 of The Agreement

At the very least.

By the time Masha led Karine out of the mansion’s wing and down the long corridor leading to the doors that separated into her father’s living quarters, her mind was already lighter; breathing wasn’t such a burden.

Prozac was good for that.

• • •

Standing in her father’s massive kitchen—a space she was sure he had never once put to use to make a meal—Karine understood why Masha had gone to such an effort to dress and try to make her look presentable. She tried not to be bitter about said reason.

That was easier said than done.

Dima’s voice droned on, too loud—and way too close—in her ears while he spoke on the phone. He hadn’t got off the call even when she walked in with Masha, acknowledging her with merely a grunt under his breath and a nod of his square chin.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, clueless about how he wanted her to act while he proceeded to ignore her at the same time. Although, it wasn’t anything new for the two.

“Here, eat something, you’ll feel better.”

Masha to the rescue.

As per usual.

She had a plate with a cream cheese bagel ready, holding it out for Karine to take whether she wanted it or not. Karine had to do everything in her power not to go running out of the room—even the growling of her stomach that belied her disinterest in the food wasn’t enough to quell the urge.

To be anywhere but there ...

Away from the man she was supposed to marry.

Yeah.

Dima Kuznetsov was her fiancé. A decision delivered upon Karine with little fanfare, and a total expectation of compliance.

“Well, get the motherfucker on the phone, then, yeah? Let me hear him say it,” Dima growled into the phone, making Karine’s skin crawl. It was his voice, and the way he spoke that did it, but most importantly—the words he used. He enjoyed the vicious way his words could terrify people, including her sometimes. Then, he let out a dark laugh that sent shivers racing down her spine when he muttered, “He won’t, though. He knows I’ll have his balls cut off, and shoved down his throat first.”

At least, one good thing was coming from Dima’s distraction with his phone call. Two things, actually. He didn’t care to pay attention to her, for one. And for two, the passing seconds gave her cloudy mind the chance to remember what she was doing here, and why Masha had been asked to deliver her on time.

Dima hated being made to wait on her, and they were supposed to be making wedding plans. As if they planned for her to actually take part.

Unlikely.

Karine took one small bite of the bagel, giving in to her need for some sustenance, and immediately regretted the choice. Her gag reflex was still as strong as ever, but at least she managed to avoid Dima seeing her hold back the bagel by turning away. It wasn’t her stomach that refused the bagel, but the strange taste that accompanied it. It took her more than a few chews to decide whether or not it was the bagel, or just her own body refusing the food.

She kept eating, though.

It did make her feel better.

After handing her the bagel, Masha had merged into the background of the kitchen to remain out of the couple’s way. It was a part of her role—to be present without being seen, to predict what her mistress's needs were without being commanded. She was certainly not permitted to make her presence known when Dima was around. He didn’t care to deal with the likes of people he considered lesser than him.

Like a slave.

Karine was envious of Masha—she would give anything to be truly invisible. Especially now when, more often than not, she wondered if she might prefer a slave’s life to one where she was going to be bound to Dima forever.

That was a horrifying reality.

It stared her right in the face.

As she watched Dima continue his abusive phone call, a silly little thought fluttered through the back of her mind. It dared to be hopeful, which only made it all the more painful.

What if she told her father how she truly felt, her mind whispered, would he even be willing to listen?