Page 43 of Sinful Promises

“Don’t.”

He snapped his hand back. “Dais. If your mother passes before you have a chance to say goodbye, will you be able to live with yourself?”

“What do you care?”

“I care, Dais. I care so much it hurts.”

“Bullshit.” I shoved my palms into my eyeballs until tiny colorful dots danced behind my eyelids.

“I’m sorry about this morning. I truly am. Please believe me. I don’t even know what happened last night.”

“Oh, believe me. Nothing happened.”

His brows drilled together. “But I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.”

“So, tell me. I want to work this out.”

“There’s nothing to work out, Roman. Soon I’ll be out of your life, and you’ll never see me again.”

“Jesus Christ. Where is this coming from?” A cloud crossed his eyes and he swallowed so loud I heard it. “Whatever I said, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

A coil of anger rose inside me like a demon. “Oh, I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Fuck!” The fire in his eyes made me step back. “What did I say?”

I glared at him, his words burning on the tip of my tongue.

He reached forward ever so slowly as if fearful I’d kick him in the nuts.

It took all my resolve not to. He placed his hand on my upper arm, and I wanted to slap it away. Roman was a tease—a cruel, heartbreaking tease.

How can he not know how I feel?

How can he not see how much he hurt me?

I jerked back and blinked at him. He did see the signs, but he didn’t feel the same. He just couldn’t tell me. That’s why he wanted me to go.

“What?” His eyes were wide, confused.

I squeezed my eyes shut, flicking away the tears trickling down my cheek as a cold wave of reality crawled through me. But I had to know for sure. I had to hear it from his mouth.

It was an eternity before I formulated what I needed to say. I sucked in a shaky breath. “Last night, you said you loved me. Did you mean it?” My dimpling chin made it nearly impossible to talk.

His pupils grew wide, and I knew the answer before he spoke.

I was hollow. Numb.

Never again would I let that stupid word control me. I cleared my throat and stared at the pulse thumping at his temple. I fought the tears burning in my eyes. “You’re right. I should go see Mother.”

His frown grew deeper—his eyes grew dark. Fearful. “I do . . . I meant what I said.”

I held up my hand. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it. I’ll see out the end of this tour. Then I’ll leave.”

But even as I said the words, I realized I couldn’t spend another day with Roman. I couldn’t live every minute debating what he’d said last night. Words meant nothing. It was actions that proved everything.

No. I could not wait till the end of the tour. I had to leave now.

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