Page 61 of Sinful Promise

“You’re right,” he replies nonchalantly.

We follow the girls to a bench under a juniper tree. It’s the only shade around, and even at that, it’s not much. Juniper trees are synonymous with the Mediterranean but are not known to give one respite from the blazing summer sun.

This makes me think of vantage points. Monaco is on a hill. I can’t help but smile. Monaco is my second home. Membership has its privileges, and I’ve had invitations to the gala for months.

“Have you heard anything from Pavel?” I ask Alex.

“No, he’s been doing twenty-four-hour surveillance but has heard no formal plans. I like the idea of hitting them before the gala. We have a few days to prepare for it.”

I nod. It sounds about right.

“Irina is champing at the bit to get Andrian. What are the odds she was with us when we discovered he was the mastermind behind the gun shipment heist?” Alex asks. “Call that a stroke of good luck for her.”

“I don’t like it that Dasha is at the center of this,” I reply sharply. “Maybe Andrian anticipated we’d travel to Minsk for revenge. It’s a stretch, but maybe he left my man alive to tell us who took the guns.”Fuck.“He might be setting us up. It was all too easy,” I say with a burst of anger at myself. “It never occurred to me there might be a larger play at hand.”

Alex lights a cigarette. “Slow down. We don’t know that’s what happened, and Andrian is too stupid to think that far ahead. Nothing has changed. We have to strategically plan his”—he lowers his voice as a couple of tourists pass by—“you know.”

“We will. All we have at this point is conjecture. We don’t have much to worry about until we return to France. Then we need to move like the wind and set a perfect plan. Whether they are there or not when we arrive, we need to be careful.”

“I wish we could sail into the sunset and leave this behind.” Alex takes a long drag on his cigarette and blows it out slowly. “You need to call Andrian with demands.”

“I will. But first, let’s enjoy the day. Come to think of it, Dasha plans to call her friend Katsia today. Maybe we’ll learn more. Call it a hunch, but women stick together.”

24

DASHA

Inotice two extra men in our shore party. Bodyguards, I presume. One was with us on the afternoon we went water skiing. The other guy, I don’t recognize. The familiar bulge under their shirts tells me the men are carrying guns. A chill runs down my spine. We are never out of danger.

Now I know what it’s like to be Roman. I was curious about his life in the real world, and today, I’m getting a sneak peek. It’s an eye-opener. This is what my life would have been had I been raised with all the entitlements of a pampered princess.

Looking back at my daily life, it was boring and miserable. But living in obscurity all these years may have been my best chance at survival and a normal life. Did my father have a plan all along? Did he care about me but never show it?

Growing up knowing I had a target on my back would have been unbearable. I’m sure my father has pissed off plenty of men over the years, all of them fully capable of murder.

I was denied the opportunity to live independently. I was raised to be dependent on a man to provide for me. But now I realize that even freedom has a price and its limits.

Is this the life I want? Did I jump from one cage to another?

Irina and I find a bench in the shade to sit on.

“This lemon gelato is amazing.” My eyes drift to Roman. His height and bearing make him stand out in a crowd. My heart flutters. It’s as if he’s the other half of me. My chest swells. He might like me. He held my hand before his friends and kissed me in public. Public displays of affection are rarely seen in my country. You’d think it was a national crime to do anything other than hold hands.

Deep-throat kisses are only seen in the movies, like the ones on the jump drive Katsia keeps hidden. The last one we watched together had graphic sex scenes. It’s the only reason I knew what to expect when Roman took my virginity.

“He loves you,” Irina blurts. Just like that, she drops it on me.

“No.” I shake my head in denial, but my eyes are glued to her face.

“Oh, yes. I’ve known him for years. He never spends all night with a woman, and you look like a woman who has had her brains fucked out.”

“Pfftt,” I spit out in disbelief. We did the deed twice yesterday, and I still want more. He fills me with his cock every chance he gets, and I’m not complaining. When he leaves a room, I want him. It’s like pickleball. We ping back and forth. He goes, I miss him. He comes back, fills my pussy, and then my heart expands with joy. Then we repeat it all over again. Sex, food, fun, and more sex.

“I bet it was hot after he found out you were Andrian’s bride, not Ratmim’s,” she chuckles.

“Why is that?”

“Make-up sex. When you have an argument and make up, you have sex. Some women do it intentionally to ensure their husbands pay attention to them.”

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