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The knock on my door breaks through my thoughts. “Miss Katarina? Your father is expecting you downstairs.”

I descend the staircase with measured steps, each one bringing me closer to a future I don't want. The marble feels cold beneath my feet, matching the chill that's settled in my chest since Father's ultimatum.

Anton Petrov stands in the formal living room with his back to me, examining one of Father's prized paintings. Even from behind, his presence fills the space—broad shoulders beneath an expensive suit, salt-and-pepper hair perfectly styled. At forty-three, he carries himself with the confidence of a man who's never been told no.

“Anton.” I keep my voice level. We've met at enough family functions for me to know exactly what I'm dealing with.

He turns, and that familiar predatory smile spreads across his face. “Katarina. Even more beautiful than I remembered.” His eyes rake over me from head to toe, lingering in places that make my skin crawl. “Your father has excellent taste in breeding stock.”

The comment hits like a slap. “Excuse me?”

“Come now, don't be shy. We're practically family.” He gestures to the sitting area. “Your father tells me you've been playing at business these past few years. Cute little hobby.”

“My company isn't a hobby. It's a legitimate cybersecurity firm with?—”

“Which you'll be closing, of course.” He settles into Father's favorite chair like he already owns the place. “My wife won't need to work. I have more than enough to provide for you.”

I remain standing, my hands clenched at my sides. “I'm not closing my company.”

Anton chuckles, the sound grating against my nerves. “You will. You'll be living in the Petrov estate once we're married. My mother is very traditional about these things.”

“Your mother?”

“She's looking forward to having a daughter-in-law to train properly. Apparently, your father never taught you proper domestic skills.” His gaze drops to my hands. “Those soft fingers will need toughening up for real women's work.”

The condescension in his tone makes my jaw clench. “I see.”

“Don't worry, little dove. I'm not unreasonable. You'll have your books, your pretty dresses, and whatever trinkets make women happy. As long as you remember your primary duties as my wife.”

The way he says 'primary duties' leaves no question about his meaning. My stomach turns.

“And what duties would those be?”

“Producing heirs, keeping house, entertaining my business associates.” He leans back, completely at ease. “Being decorative when I need you to be and available when I want you to be.”

Available. Like I'm a commodity he's purchasing rather than a person he's marrying.

“How romantic.”

His eyes narrow at my sarcasm. “Careful, Katarina. Sarcasm is unattractive in a woman. We'll need to work on that sharp tongue of yours.”

“Work on my tongue?” I let out a laugh that could cut glass. “How generous of you to offer your expertise. Tell me, Anton,how many wives have you trained before me? Or do you prefer to start with the inexperienced ones?”

His face darkens. “Watch yourself.”

“Oh, I'm watching. I'm watching a middle-aged man who thinks buying a woman makes him entitled to reshape her into his personal doll.” I take a step closer, my voice dropping to match his earlier tone. “How's that working out for your ego? Having to purchase what other men earn?”

Anton stands abruptly, his bulk imposing in the suddenly too-small room. “Your father warned me you had spirit. He assured me it could be... managed.”

“Managed?” I laugh again, sharper this time. “Like livestock? How flattering.”

“You have no idea what kind of life I'm offering you.”

“A life as your breeding stock, domestic servant, and decorative accessory? You're right. I can't imagine anything more appealing.” I cross my arms. “Tell me, when you discussed this arrangement with my father, did you specify whether you prefer your wives broken immediately or if you enjoy the process of breaking them yourself?”

Something dangerous flickers in his eyes. “Careful, little dove.”

“Stop calling me that. I'm not your dove or anything else.” I hold his stare without flinching. “And if you think I'm going to simper and curtsy my way into your bed, you've clearly never done your research.”