Page 62 of Sinful Promise

“You’re joking.”

“Oh, trust me, Parisian women can be very calculating.” She raises her eyebrows to fend off a challenge. At this point, I’ll take her word for it. Irina knows things, and I’m anxious to learn more.

“Interesting,” I reply. “I’m not into playing games. I’m not very good at them, and I hate losing.” I’m worried my emotions are easily read, and I need to change the subject. “This gelato is addictive. I could eat it every day.” I take the last spoonful of the creamy goodness and lick the spoon with my tongue.

“Leave it to the Italians. They have great wine and incredible food, and the men know how to fuck.”

I choke on my gelato, coughing as it melts down my throat.

“What? I shocked you?” She chuckles. “Well, I’ve been watching you, and I like you. You’re the right woman for Roman. He needs to give up the silly models he hangs out with.”

“Models, as in fashion models?”

“Yes. They want to live glamorous lives, but most are washed up and broke by thirty. If they date Roman, they don’t know Roman. They can’t know the real him. You, however, understand. He lives in two very different worlds. I, too, play many parts in life. Sometimes I act, sometimes I spy.” She shrugs her shoulders and takes another scoop of her dessert.

I try not to think about all the beautiful models Roman has been with. I worry that I won’t be able to keep him interested when he’s been with women more experienced and worldly than me. How can I compete with them?

Dying to know more, I ask Irina, “What else do you do?” She is a woman of mystery, and I’m fascinated by everything about her.

“Hm, you’ll find out in time. For now, enjoy life.”

My mind is reeling. Does Roman love me? Does he still want to date models? He’s never mentioned other women. Is he still in touch with any of them? Is he using Alex to relay messages to other women? Or worse, does he have a woman waiting for him at home?

I notice Roman and Alex walking toward us. The sun is at their backs. What are they talking about? I feel they are doing something under my nose, and I can’t say I like it.

I stand and find a trash can for my spoon and empty cup. I toss it in, and Irina does the same.

“You know,” Roman says as he stands close to me and looks over my shoulder. His voice makes my pussy drip when he seductively lowers it. “I can think of better uses for that lovely mouth of yours after seeing you lick that spoon.” His breath fans my ear as he makes atsk-tsksound, like I’m a bad girl. “I promise I’ll be better than the gelato.”

I pretend to be unexcited by his promise. “Mm. I don’t know. The gelato was killer.”

“I’ll show you tonight.”

Fuck me. I want him so badly that it hurts. He’s teasing me, knowing I long for him.

“The fortress,” Alex barks energetically.

“Yes.” Roman glances around, his eyes surveying our immediate area. Once satisfied, he reaches for my hand, and we begin to walk. “It’s straight ahead.”

We take our time climbing the steep hill. The homes we walk past are stacked beside each other on the hillside. There are no air conditioning units in the windows. Instead, the windows are open, and clean laundry hangs from the clotheslines, drying in the sun.

A warm sea breeze stirs the air. I take in my surroundings and savor the moment. The smell of Roman mixes with musk and citrus and tantalizes my senses. I can’t tell if my heart is racing due to the exercise or from his proximity. Either way, my pussy is wet with anticipation of what we’ll do later.

I can no longer deny my feelings for Roman. I love how he touches me and the way he smiles when I catch his eye. I’m in love with him.

And I’m a fool for wanting him. He’s dangerous. If I come out of this exchange alive, I need to get as far away as possible.

Roman said he wouldn’t return me to Andrian, but what else does he have to barter with other than me? And this brings up the issue of trust. I’d be insane to trust him, wouldn’t I?

My thighs and calves are in full revolt when we reach the fortress at the top of the hill. Roman takes care of the tickets, and we climb the narrow steps to a plateau. There’s not much up here besides a grass courtyard and a defensive wall. A small building on the left has its door open.

I cross the courtyard with Roman and lean against the wall overlooking the sea. It’s hot enough to soft-boil an egg, so when a breeze blows through my hair and cools my neck, I love it.

“Wow. What a view,” I exclaim. The fortress isn’t much to look at, but the view is worth the hike. Distant islands dot the horizon, and under a cloudless sky, the Mediterranean is spectacular. The water color can best be described as somewhere between blue and teal.

“The sea is gorgeous,” Irina says, standing beside us.

“To think this was Napoleon’s exile. If that’s the case, exile me anytime,” Alex jokes.

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