Page 71 of The Agreement

He doubted it would.

Except he hadn’t hightailed it out of the restaurant before he had the pleasure of seeing Karine walk into the restaurant. In a slinky, champagne-toned dress with a slit in the thigh and showing so much skin, that made her look like she belonged in the Playboy Mansion. The most intriguing part about Karine was she had no idea the effect she had on men.

On every man in the room.

In fact, he watched every head turn.

But she didn’t.

It was at that point when Roman decided he had to get some air. He needed to catch his breath because seeing Karine was like being punched in the gut. The second gut punch came when he saw her sit between her father and Dima. Even though she didn’t look at all like she wanted to be there, Dima stared at her like a hungry dog with a bone in his bowl. It made Roman’s blood boil, and he couldn’t explain why.

He had to get out of there, so he did, before the party even got started.

Roman had slipped into the alleyway, undetected, to have a smoke. He definitely wasn’t expecting Karine to show up here a few minutes later, but she did and the rest was history.

“I missed the big announcement. Care to fill me in?” he asked the woman, though he was pretty sure he had already pieced together the entire shit show.

She sighed, and shook her head. “They are engaged. Dima and Karine. Everyone in the bratva has already decided she is his—he made his intentions clear months ago, and no one challenged him. Not even her father. And with that being said, Dima is the son of one of the boss’s closest trustees. It doesn’t matter what she wants or needs.”

Roman stood stock still.

Why?

He didn’t care to wonder what would make her agree—there was a good chance if there had ever been a choice for her where the engagement was concerned, it would be nothing more than an illusion. But that didn’t explain why she would be out in the alley with him doing what she had.

What was it—regret, maybe?

“Huh,” Roman said, more to himself than anyone else.

The woman didn’t quite take it that way when she replied, “Yes, so if you want to make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble, you will stay away.”

“What is your name?” he asked.

The woman glanced at her feet, instantly reminded with one question of her place, it seemed. Roman didn’t like what he assumed that to mean.

“Masha.”

He pressed her more. “Last name?”

She shook her head.

Just as he figured—she was a slave.

One of the many that the Yazovs used and traded. There was an almost intermarket for that type of shit in the criminal underworld, especially when certain factions of an organization were already dealing in trafficking in one way or another. She had to truly care for Karine and her welfare to take the risk of speaking to a vor in the way she did to him.

She couldn’t know he wasn't the violent type with women—Roman never got off on that, but it was still everywhere, too. Nonetheless, the fact she took the risk said a lot.

Her job definitely did not entail simply warning men against getting involved with the boss’s daughter, and leaving it at that.

Masha apparently intended to make her point to Roman very clear, and for the first time since she stepped out into the alleyway, he decided to really listen. “I don’t know what game you are playing with her, but you’re putting her in danger. You know him—Dima. Everyone does. What he is really like. He’s cruel and vicious. He can be unkind to her and ... and ... violent.”

Roman stiffened.

Masha continued on. “Even when not provoked, he just enjoys being mean. Imagine what it’s like when he has a reason. I don’t know what you want from her, but I don’t want her to get hurt. I hope we want the same thing.”

Roman stared at Masha, still absorbing her news. He couldn’t come to terms with the fact that Karine—that beautiful creature who looked like the Devil’s angel in her slinky dress—a woman who could have any man she wanted, and not just because of who her father was, had been given to Dima.

Fucking Dima.