Page 37 of Promise Kept

I have no idea why Tamara would actually call Larissa to show up.

They’ve had a fractured relationship from the second Larissa emerged from Tamara’s womb.

“Have a glass of wine, Larissa,” Tamara says. “It’ll calm you down a little. You need it. You’re stiffer than Ellis when I began to take my dress off.”

Oh, good fucking hell, Tamara…

Larissa gasps.

She looks at me and the sadness on her face is more than at her own father’s funeral.

Then she looks at her mother again. “You’ll never change. You called me here to make a show of yourself. Show off your fancy dress. And you’re already drunk. Oh, yeah, that’s right, come to the expensive apartment with the security that acts like you’re the leader of a country. You’re a bitch. You hear me? You’re a bitch… Tamara…”

The final shot taken and Larissa storms out of the apartment.

I glance at Tamara for a second.

I can’t help myself - I have to chase down Larissa.

She’s near the elevators as I race out of the apartment and begin to run down the hallway.

“Do not get on that elevator,” I call out.

What does Larissa do?

She lunges forward and punches the button over and over. Like that’s going to make the elevator move faster.

The elevator comes to a stop and plays a nice little song instead of the standard ding.

I make it there just as the doors try to shut.

My hands causes the doors to resist closing and I step onto the elevator.

Larissa has her back flat against the back wall, staring at me with shock spread across her face.

“I move fast,” I say.

“I can tell. My father’s body hasn’t even begun to rot yet and you’re already fucking his ex-wife.”

I close in on Larissa.

There’s a second where I see nothing but red.

“You fucking brat,” I growl.

She swings at my face.

I catch her right wrist with ease and pin it against the wall.

She tries to swing with her left hand.

I repeat the same move.

With her hands pinned above her head, my body lingering way too close for comfort, we’re frozen in time.

Behind me the elevator door begins to close once again.

“Fucking brat,” I growl at Larissa.

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