Page 14 of The Pakhan’s Unwanted Bride

"Please, sit." He gestures to the chair across from Ana.

I take the seat, my eyes meeting hers across the table. She doesn't smile, doesn't flirt, just stares at me with an expression filled with frustration and anger.

What the hell is her problem? She got what she wanted, me, so why is she acting like the offended party here?

"I want to make something clear," Ivan says as the staff begins serving the first course. "This engagement will be done properly, according to tradition. That means a formal courtship period where you two get to know each other under appropriate supervision."

"Appropriate supervision," I repeat, my tone flat. "You mean you're going to watch us like children."

"I mean I'm going to ensure my daughter's reputation remains intact." Ivan's voice is calm but firm. "You've already compromised her once. I won't allow it to happen again."

Ana's fork clatters against her plate. "I'm sitting right here, Papa. Stop talking about me like I'm not in the room."

"Then perhaps you should contribute to the conversation," Ivan replies smoothly.

She turns those dark eyes on me, and I feel the impact like a physical blow. "I have nothing to say."

"That's going to make for a long evening," I mutter.

Ivan clears his throat. "Anastasia."

She picks up her fork and focuses on her plate, cutting into the roasted chicken with more force than necessary. The silence stretches, uncomfortable but not unbearable. Ivan takes a sip of wine and seems to accept that his daughter won't be contributing to pleasantries anytime soon.

"The estate looks well-maintained," I say, deciding to break the tension with something neutral. "You've done work on the east wing since I was last here."

Ivan nods, seeming relieved at the shift in conversation. "New security system. The old one was becoming outdated." He takes another bite. "I imagine you've upgraded your own properties similarly."

"Constantly." I cut into my chicken. "Security is never finished. There's always something that needs improvement, always new threats to anticipate."

"True enough." Ivan leans back slightly. "The business world moves faster than it used to. Everything requires vigilance."

Ana pushes food around her plate without actually eating much. I catch her watching me from beneath her lashes, then quickly looking away when our eyes might meet. Whatever's bothering her, she's clearly decided to keep it to herself.

"How's the market treating your investments?" I ask Ivan, keeping the conversation on neutral ground.

"Stable. We've diversified into some new ventures in the tech sector. Less volatile than some of the traditional routes." He gestures with his fork. "Though I imagine you've explored similar opportunities."

"A few." I take a drink of wine. "Legitimate business is necessary, but it requires a different mindset from what most of us grew up with."

"Indeed." Ivan seems to relax slightly, settling into the kind of conversation two men in our position can have. "Anastasia's been involved in some of the charitable foundations. She has a good head for identifying which causes generate the most positive attention."

I glance at Ana, surprised. She's looking at her plate, but there's a slight flush to her cheeks. So the spoiled princess does more than just attend galas and demand attention. Interesting.

"That's useful," I say carefully. "Image management is part of the game."

"Exactly." Ivan nods approvingly. "She understands that better than most people her age."

The staff clears the first course and brings the second. More wine is poured. Ivan is actually decent company when he's not playing the protective father. He's intelligent, well-informed, and doesn't waste time on meaningless small talk.

Ana remains mostly silent, occasionally responding to direct questions from her father with short answers. She eats slowly, deliberately, like she's thinking about something else entirely. Her jaw is tight, her shoulders tense. Whatever's going on in that head of hers, it's clearly consuming her attention.

I'm actually starting to relax slightly when Ana suddenly sets down her wine glass with a decided thump on the table.

She looks directly at me, her dark eyes blazing with something I can't quite identify, then at Ivan. "It doesn't matter what contracts you've signed," she says, her voice clear and steady. "I have no intention of marrying Samuil Galkin."

9

ANA