Page 54 of Sinful Promise

Out of nowhere, a cool breeze blows in off the water. Goosebumps sprout on my arms, and I hug myself to keep warm. Roman places a hand on my legs.

“You’re cold. Let’s go inside.”

I nod and stand up. The situation is worse than I had imagined. I thought that if I went home, I’d be punished, but I could end up dead, a pawn in a game between two families. My luck couldn’t get any worse. Why did Roman have to be at the church on that fateful day?

We step into our room. It’s like I’m in a fairy tale. Everything is spotless, and the bedcovers have been turned down for the night. It’s wonderful to be pampered after so many years of caring for my father. I almost wish he were here so I could ask him why he didn’t use the tracker to intercept me in Belarus. We drove for hours. Did he want me to get away? Or am I part of some plan to push these two enemies into a confrontation?

I dismiss the idea. My father didn’t allow me to escape. The man is incapable of doing anything nice. He’s a thief, and he took the guns to stockpile them for one of Andrian’s nefarious government missions. We all know he outsources jobs that are political suicide for him.

Andrian holds all the cards. I bet he put my brothers in a bad situation and blackmailed them into agreeing to the marriage. The only way this nightmare ends for us is to beat Andrian at his own game.

I brush my teeth and grab one of Roman’s shirts from his closet. I put it on and roll up the sleeves.

“You must be exhausted,” I say as I crawl into the soft bed.

Roman’s eyes are half closed as he slides in next to me. He rolls over and drapes his arm across my body. “Good night, little bird.”

“Good night,” I reply, wiped out, too. Maybe this is what people call jet lag. There’s only a one-hour time difference, but the events of the past few days are starting to catch up with me.

Outside the porthole, I can make out the distant lights of the French coastline. Roman mentioned we’re in no hurry to get to Monte Carlo. He still needs time to formulate a plan. Even with all the Volkov money, it’s impossible to hide forever when you have a powerful enemy.

We need more than a plan. We need a miracle.

* * *

When I wake up,I’m alone. Roman walks out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around his waist. I’m surprised to see he shaved. It makes him look so much younger.

I sit up. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six. Why?”

“Curious. I like you better without the scruff, but it felt good…”

He chuckles. “Yeah, it feels good down there. A bit of friction goes a long way, eh?”

His intimate teasing embarrasses me, and I resist the urge to dive under the covers.

“I was thinking this morning,” he says, “is it safe for you to call Katsia?”

“I imagine. Why?”

“I think she’d like to know you are okay, don’t you?”

Is this a ploy? Am I too jaded to give him credit for being chivalrous?

“Actually, I’d love to speak to her.”

“You can’t give her much information. They might try to trace the phone. It’s a burner, and we run it through various encryptions.”

“Right. That’s good, right?”

“Of course. We’ll have breakfast like we did yesterday. You’re okay to meet me there in an hour?” He ducks inside his closet.

“Sure.” I’m relieved that I’ll have time to shower and fix my hair. The humidity has made my hair frizzy.

He steps from the closet fully dressed for the day in a long-sleeved fishing shirt, jeans, and loafers. I doubt he’s wearing underwear. “See you at breakfast.” And with that, he’s out the door.

I need caffeine and press the intercom on the wall.

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