Page 14 of The Bratva Contract
“Well, you asked me,” she says with an expressive shrug.
“Fine. Give her a time slot tomorrow, only for one hour. But if she shows up with a bunch of stupid flower arrangements, you’d better have an emergency ready to pull me away.”
“You consider this an investment in your future. You want an heir? You want him to grow up in a happy home, not with a mother who hates you.”
“You have a point,” I say.
I text Karina that I’ll carve out time for her tomorrow. Then I stay even later, catching up on the work I missed while I was out in the country and making sure everything is lined up for a smooth merger.
She arrives early, sleeker and more professional than I’ve ever seen her, though, to be fair, I’ve only seen her socially. A black suit offers a tantalizing glimpse of a lacy bra beneath the tailored jacket; the short skirt skims mid-thigh, and the spike heels make my mouth go dry. She steps close and kisses my cheek as stiffly as if I were her aging grandfather.
“I’m happy you could make it,” I say, nearly choking on the lie. “I’ve missed you.” She doesn’t quite roll her eyes, but the look she shoots me says she’s not here for my bullshit.
“I’ve got something to show you,” she says, tapping her tablet.
Please be proofs from a boudoir photographer,I think. Instead, she hands me the tablet, and on-screen is a graph projecting security improvements if her software is installed on every device in the bratva. I lift my brows at her, presumptuous, to say the least.
“I want a partnership, Dima,” she begins, and the firm set of her mouth tells me I’m in for the fight of my life.
“I’m not looking for a partner. If your dad wanted you to have the bratva, you’d already have it,” I say shortly.
“Look at the next slide,” she says impatiently. “I did a deep dive, or as much as I could without access to your records, and mapped out the needs of your network. You can see here that efficiency is an issue for your primary leadership and you have a redundancy in your operating software that’s costing you money and manhours.”
I sit back, take Olga’s advice, and let my clever fiancée present her findings. Her work is impressive, and the way she has tailored the plan to the specific needs of my organization is nothing short of brilliant. But I’m holding the line. No partnership.
When she pauses, I look her up and down lazily. She’s sharp and well prepared, armed with charts, graphs, data, and a track record that proves she can revolutionize my organization’s cybersecurity. But it won’t get her what she wants.
“Karina,” I say, and I try to sound dispassionate. This is nothing personal after all. Just a statement that I expect her to back off the business and bear my children instead.
“Yes?” she says. I pause, caught by the unfamiliar sound of her agreeing to anything. A smirk tugs at my mouth.
“You’ve obviously done your homework, and I appreciate your professionalism. It’s a strong presentation.”
“I’m not asking for a good grade,” she says. “I’m offering you my security services.”
“Your numbers are intriguing, but I don’t see a need to shift from our current contract right now. Thanks, though.”
“Thanks? I spent three days assembling the perfect proposal and proving the value of my contribution to the bratva. I’ve gottestimonials from other industry leaders attesting to the quality of my product. What more do you want?” She’s insulted. I heave a sigh.
“If I’ve upset you, I’m sorry,” I say lamely, “but I’m not in the market to upgrade our software right now. I’ve got plenty to handle with the merger. I made time to meet with you.”
“You’re not doing me a favor,” she says hotly. “I’m offering you one. Do you know what I charge to do a custom software package? Just to do the research and make my recommendation is ten thousand. Because I’m invested in our joint bratva, I waived my fee to offer you the opportunity to integrate my software and streamline your operations as well.”
“So you’re doing me a favor?” I ask.
“Exactly,” she says without irony. “I want to make the best of this, and I certainly deserve half ownership of the entire organization. I’m bringing you access to my family business as a gift upon our marriage, and?—”
“You’re not giving me a gift; your father is. And, as you graciously pointed out at our first dinner, you are, in a manner of speaking, the side dish to that order.”
“You said you didn’t see me that way!” Karina exclaims, her voice ragged. The whole conversation is appalling, and from her expression she wants to bolt from the room and never look back. I remind myself I have to marry this woman, even if she thinks I’m a dick.
“I did say that, back when I thought it might be possible to charm you.” I let myself smirk. She’s getting so worked up and wants her own way so badly that it’s almost funny to watch. Almost, if I didn’t think there was a chance she’d lose control.
“How dare you! You spewed lies and groped me at the engagement party, and again at the boathouse. I don’t know why I expected more. Maybe because I’d heard for years about the great Dmitri Petrov, but now I find out you’re as disappointing as every other man.”
“You’re becoming my wife. That role is demanding. It’s unlikely you’d have time to be more than an honorary board member at the software company, much less hold any real capacity in my business.”
“Oh, my role? Do you have a job description printed out, or should I check your website?” she asks waspishly.
