Page 102 of Sinful Promise

Roman joins us five minutes later. He slips his arm around my waist and hugs me close. He pulls my chair out for me at the table.

“I hope you ladies had fun shopping,” he says.

“Great, thank you for the dresses, Roman. You didn’t have to do that,” Irina says, holding up a glass of water as if to toast him.

“Yes, thank you. You must come to visit Sal and me in Italy. I insist.”

“It was my pleasure, and I’ll take you up on the offer, Francesca.” He nods to her, and she returns it. It’s like a gentlemen’s agreement. I bet there will be more than pasta cooking in that kitchen. Social gatherings are for work, and I assume private meetings are as well.

Does this mean he’s getting in bed with the Italian mafia? I don’t know anyone’s last name but the Volkovs. Having lived with criminals, I’ve picked up on what’s not being said, and the people at this table are very different. They are polished. They might have started as thugs in the streets, but it’s clear they’ve removed themselves from it. Now, they are circulating among the elite and attending social events with affluent members of society. They have become legal criminals, and no one would suspect they have a shady empire under them.

“How are the hotels doing, Nikolay?” Francesca asks. “I must say, we stayed at one in the Alps, and it was amazing. I love your designer.”

“Great,” he quips. “It’s my mother.”

“Really? Well, she’s amazing with colors.”

“I’ll pass it on,” he replies as a server slides a plate of salad before him.

“Hotels?” I whisper to Roman. “You never mentioned hotels.”

“You never asked,” he retorts.

“How about Nadia?”

His body is so still that I wonder if he’s breathing. Oh, boy. Did I piss him off?

“How did you hear of Nadia?” he asks.

“I ran into her at the shop today. Actually, I watched her and her entourage of young women waltzed through the store as if they owned it. Did you invite her here?”

“It’s no concern of yours, is it?”

Wow. I didn’t see that coming. It would hurt less if he hit me.

“You should tell me if you’re involved with her.”

“I’m not,” he replies. “I was, but it was over around the time of our vacation. She would have loved the yacht but I wanted you with me.”

“So, that’s your type?”

“We met.” He shrugs his shoulders and stabs the lettuce on his plate. “She’s becoming famous. She travels for photoshoots. It’s not as exciting as you would think.”

“It sounds incredible to me.”

“Believe what you will, but I don’t cheat. She knows we’re over. She’s here for the gala, I’m sure. It’s free publicity, and she’ll get more offers for endorsements after the event. Just watch, you’ll see.”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to see.

Hell, I don’t even know where I’ll be next week.

The next course arrives. Dmitry leaves the table to take his wife’s phone call.

I turn to others at the table and join conversations that flow between us like we’ve known each other for years.

We finish the main course and have a light flourless chocolate cake Alex calls the Black Beast. It has a French name I can’t pronounce, but the rich chocolate flavor is unforgettable.

It’s been a long day for me, and it’s not even four in the afternoon. I head to bed to rest. I drift off, and then I’m yelling.

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