Page 4 of Sinful Promises

There was no way to tell if she was telling the truth or not. Then again, history has always been subject to bias depending on who is doing the retelling. According to Victoria, the places she took us to were just the tip of Paris’s dark past.

By the time I flopped into bed at midnight, my body was weary, and my head was spinning with a whole world of history I hadn’t heard before.

But it was worth it. Night one of this tour and I’d already ticked off one of my to-do-list items.

Yay me. I’m off to a good start.

Chapter Two

During my two-night stay in Paris, I hadn’t opened my room curtain once.

It had been hard not to. Bloody hard. But I hadn’t wanted to risk seeing the light-blue Vespa.

And I sure as shit hadn’t wanted to see Pierre.

Three days after leaving London, we were headed toward the French château and, more importantly, Luca. Luca was exactly the distraction I needed because if I received one more gloomy look from Roman, I was going to slap him.

Or flash my tits—perhaps that would help him snap out of his mood.

Right from the very first moment I’d said hello to Roman in the Vacation Dreamz parking lot, he’d been acting all weird. He’d grunted his responses when I asked him questions, and his attempts at smiling came off more like he was popping out sneaky farts.

Maybe he’d somehow sensed my decision to keep my distance from him. It wasn’t always easy, given that nearly every day we sat barely four feet from each other in the bus. But I was giving it my best shot. Fortunately for me, I could cruise up and down the aisle, chatting with my tourists.

Each time I returned to my seat though, he tossed me a look that had me wondering if he was about to vomit, and then he’d spin his gaze to the road. The closer we got to Château de Fontainebleau, the more Roman strangled the steering wheel. I had no idea what was eating him up, but I didn’t want to ask either.

Maybe he was upset that he didn’t have a ‘Lydia’ to play with this time.

Too bad. So sad.

I had to force myself not to ask him what was wrong because I really shouldn’t care. But argh, it was so hard when he was acting like a sad sack for miles and miles.

As we turned into the château driveway, my heart galloped as I anticipated what Luca had prepared for me this time.

But he wasn’t there.

Bugger.

Roman didn’t crack any stable boy jokes, and I didn’t mention Luca to him either. But when he turned off the bus engine and shifted in his seat to look at me, the sadness in his eyes tore me up.

I wanted to ease forward and wrap my arms around him. To apologize for pushing him away and make him believe I was only doing this for him. For me. Opening that conversation was difficult enough. But with a hoard of hyperactive tourists behind us, itching to get off the bus, that conversation was impossible.

I offered a lopsided smile. “See you soon.”

He nodded, all silent and brooding, and I felt like the worst person in the world as I stepped down from the bus and walked toward the château with my group in tow.

Repeating the same spiel I’d done for every single visit to Fontainebleau, I escorted them from one aspect of the palace to the next, and finally set them up at the tables for their high tea.

With that done, I went in search of Luca.

He’d been waiting for me for the last two months. Why was he a no-shown this time? Stupid thoughts ping-ponged through my brain.

Maybe he doesn’t want me anymore.

He’s probably just busy with the horses.

Maybe I upset him last month when I cut our picnic short.

He might have the day off work.

---