Page 37 of The Agreement

Maybe she could try—just one time. Maybe she was wrong about him all along. As soon as the ridiculous thoughts filled her mind, she knew they were nothing more than idiotic notions to have, considering. Her father despised her, without ever having explained why or explicitly said it, she knew it; felt it deep in her heart whenever she gained the courage to look the man in his face.

She was well aware of the fact that he shunned her to a separate wing of the mansion because he couldn’t bear to have her around more than he requested. It suited him best that she existed in the periphery of his life where he didn’t have to look at her, or speak to her. But this had been her entire life with the man, too.

A shame he wouldn’t explain.

She was more than a burden.

Karine didn’t understand it because she couldn’t recall what she had ever done to defy or upset him. When had she ever been a bad daughter? Nothing she tried pleased him enough to earn his attention or affection.

Not that she suspected her father’s attachment to her would make a difference to whether or not she had a choice of refusal when Dima declared that he had chosen her to be his wife. If anything, that created a solution for Maxim. He had a viable excuse to finally wipe his hands of his problematic daughter.

Nonetheless, a part of Karine had hoped the news might please her father. Dima and Maxim were close associates—he was someone who was trusted by the family, and respected by the bratva. Everyone else congratulated Karine on an excellent match, like she had really been given a choice, and some even sounded envious.

When Dima delivered the news to Maxim, it was the first time Karine noticed something akin to a smile on her father’s face when he turned to her. She had thought he would be proud—for a moment, she allowed herself the vulnerability of expecting something rare from her father.

Kindness.

She shouldn't have bothered.

“It’s the best thing you can do for yourself.”

That was his only comment.

What else had she been hoping for?

“You’re late,” Dima snapped.

Karine’s mind was elsewhere—her constant distractions from her thoughts and the world around her never left—but he brought her rudely back to the room. He never hesitated to remind her that she needed to be on her best behavior when he was within earshot of her very presence.

The man demanded a lot.

But he gave very little.

“Sorry, I slept in,” Karine said dimly, barely managing to look up and meet his eyes.

A cold anger stared back.

“You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. Do you not know how to read a clock?” Dima turned to Masha who still remained at the back of the room. A fear that accompanied her more often than not when she was in his vicinity welled in her throat when he asked Masha, “Well—you’re not a fucking idiot, yeah? You can tell me why she’s late, can’t you?”

Karine wanted nothing more than to shrink away from Dima, and disappear. Except she couldn’t bear the idea that he would take out his anger on Masha simply because he knew he could get away with it easier than he could when it came to Karine.

“It wasn’t her fault, it was all me,” Karine rushed to say, bringing his attention back to her. Even though it ached in her chest to be in his line of fire, she still breathed a silent sigh of relief that she’d managed to distract him from Masha. “I spent too long in the shower—I always do. I’m sorry. I wanted to look pretty for you.”

All it took was a smile, and a bat of her drug-heavy lashes.

Dima was a dangerous man, sure, but he was still just a man. His eyes traveled over her body, taking in the plunging neckline of her lace dress, the rise and fall of her breasts. His gaze lingered a little too long on her legs, and finally, he glanced back up at her.

Satisfied.

He arched a brow, sucked air through his teeth, and nodded once in reply to whether or not she had succeeded in her task of looking pretty.

Masha had done a good job of selecting her outfit for today. Karine wasn’t even sure how she managed to put on this act for him. It was almost like muscle memory. As long as she kept Dima pleased at all times, and made sure he had no complaints in between, then everything was easier.

She tried not to forget it.

“I had to send the wedding planner away, but she’ll be back in a few hours,” Dima said, taking a few steps towards Karine, and she flinched. Just his proximity could provoke that reaction. She hoped he hadn’t noticed it, so she forced on a smile instead. He touched her hair, tucking in a few stray strands behind her ears. Her skin still crawled from the feeling his touch left behind, and she didn’t even have an explanation for it.

Yes, she knew he could be hurtful.