Page 7 of Dark Promise

The thing is, she’s right. About everything. Roberto does talk over me, dismiss my opinions, center himself in every conversation. Sometimes, I have to grit my teeth to keep from snapping at him.

So why am I marrying him?

Because boring is safe. But more than that, it’s because of Papa.

Nadia hasn’t touched her dessert. “You didn’t answer my question,” she says.

“Not that it’s anyone’s business,” I say after a long pause. “But I told him I want to wait until our honeymoon.”

“Sabina!” she roars.

“Nadia!” I roar back.

“Would you buy a car without a test drive?” she demands.

“I don’t know what you want me to say right now.”

“Okay. Tell me this much…are you in love with him?”

That question. It hangs in the air like a proverbial lead balloon. On fire. And smelling very bad.

“I…” I begin. “I care for him.”

And as soon as I say the words, I know they’re the wrong answer. Her lips purse with judgement. I head her off before she can explode.

“Okay, I get your concern,” I grit out. “I really do. But you need to understand something. I don’t want to be madly in love with someone. I don’t want someone so gorgeous that my knees get weak whenever I see him. I don’t want to be begging him for sex or wondering who else he’s screwing. I want to be fully in control of my emotions.”

Because that night three years ago, I wasn’t in control, and I’ve been living with the memories of that ever since. I never told Nadia about that night. Only Papa knew. And now, only I know.

Nadia holds up her hands, palms forward. “Okay,” she says softly. “I get wanting to be in control. Let’s say that I accept the fact that you don’t want to be madly in love. But…shouldn’t the guy you marry be your best friend? Someone you can talk to? Someone who really sees you for you?”

My thoughts spin back to the Halloween party, to the hours I spent with a stranger, talking, laughing, a man I wouldn’t even recognize if we were standing right next to each other because I never saw his face. A man who really listened to me. Whogotme. Whosawme.

I picture him, the stranger in the Batman costume, sitting in the shadows like he owned the darkness itself. The way the sharp lines of his jaw caught the light, his lips full but firm, the kind of lips that were sculpted for temptation. He hadn’t just worn the suit; hewasthe suit—imposing, magnetic, dangerous.

And his kiss… God, his kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming. He’d kissed me like he’d been starving for me his entire life… and like he’d hate himself for it afterward. His lips had been firm, demanding, coaxing out a response I’d thought buried deep inside me. The taste of him—dark and intoxicating—was burned into my memory, something I’d never be able to forget no matter how much I wanted to.

He'd kissed me like I was both his salvation and his sin, his redemption and his ruin, like I wasn’t a Mafia princess in a gilded cage but a woman who made his world burn.

I shake my head. Why am I thinking about him again?

Because Nadia’s questions opened the box I keep that precious memory locked away in, allowed that wisp of bittersweet regret to drift free.

“It’s not too late,” Nadia says softly, reaching over and resting her hand on mine. “You can call it off. This can’t be what you want, a loveless marriage with a pompous ass who only wants your money.”

“Gee, don’t pull any punches, Nads,” I say sourly, though in truth she isn’t saying anything I haven’t already thought, haven’t spent hours agonizing over when I lie sleepless in my bed.

She just looks at me with those big brown eyes, seeing right into my heart.

“Tell me why you’re staying with him,” she says. “And I know it isn’t because you love him.”

“Roberto told me that Papa gave him his permission to marry me just before he died. If he gave his blessing, then—” To my dismay, my eyes have welled with hot tears that fall before I have a chance to stop them. I grab a linen napkin and dab at them gently, so it doesn’t ruin my makeup. “I loved Papa. I will always love him. And I know he only wanted the best for me.”

“I agree with that much,” Nadia places her hand over mine. “Mr. Russo loved the hell out of you. And he did want only the best for you. Which is why…”

I wait after she trails off. “Continue.”

For a moment, I think she won’t continue, but then Nadia raises her gaze directly to mine.

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