Page 66 of Sinful Promise

“Okay, I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” I hang up and stare into space, flabbergasted. “I can’t believe my brother wants out,” I mumble. “But how can I help him?”

Roman runs a hand through his damp hair as he paces. “Do you trust him?”

I take a few seconds to think about it. “Yes, I do. I doubt Dad would manipulate him to get to me. We haven’t been close since he moved out a few years ago. I think it was my father’s way of keeping the business away from me. It also isolated me.”

Without looking at me, Roman nods in agreement. He stands and begins to pace. “This might help us.”

“How?”

“He could be our man on the inside to give us intel. I’ll figure it out. For now, we need to meet with the others.”

I do trust Albert. He doesn’t have the ruthless personality the others have, and if he can’t cut it, well…I worry he’ll come home with injuries or worse. There is nowhere for him to go. He’ll be trapped. Andrian will want him to work for him and try to mold him. There’s only one way out of the mafia: in a casket. I have to help my brother.

“I can’t let them hurt him, Roman.” I wring my hands and look at him with tears in my eyes. “I’ve lost my mom. I don’t want to lose a brother.” I miss Katsia and wish she were here. I’m away from home, and the superyacht is incredible, but these people are not my family. A tear rolls down my face. I have to help my brother get out safety. I need Roman to do it.

“I know. But nothing will happen overnight. Let’s enjoy the afternoon. We will have an incredible evening with our friends.”

Enjoy the day? I want to do something, hit something, cry, scream, anything but enjoy the evening. How can Roman be this cold? He’s so fucking calm. Does he have feelings for anyone or anything? He’s a light switch, on one second and off the next.

“What are the plans with Andrian? You haven’t said much, and we can’t sail around the world forever.”

“We’re taking a break while the pieces fall into place. I have a contact in Belarus, and your brother might be useful. As long as they don’t find us first, I like our odds.”

“What does that mean for me?”

“That you’ll be fine, and when this is over, you can do whatever you want. Now, come,” he says as he pulls me into his arms and uses his thumb to wipe my tears. “It will work out. You’ll see.”

25

DASHA

I’m emotionally drained. Roman takes my hands in his, and pulls me to my feet. We walk to the bed. The sun and stress has taken a toll. I lie in bed, Roman is beside me staring at the sky at the clouds over us. I drift off. When I wake, I enjoy the . clean crisp sheets under me and it’s heavenly. I reach for Roman and discover I’m alone. What the fuck is up with that? He’s like Houdini, always disappearing.

I grab his pillow, hoping for another whiff of him, and my hand hits something. I quickly sit up and see a small box and an envelope. I open the envelope and pull out a note written on heavyweight paper.

These are for tonight.

That’s it? No signature? I check the back of the card. He didn’t sign his name. There’s no Roman, noLove, Roman. Nothing, nada.

I pick up the elongated box and carefully untie the red ribbon. Then I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I lift the lid.

What! Diamond earrings! I gasp in disbelief. I’ve never had authentic jewelry. They are hoop earrings with rows of brilliant diamonds set in white gold, platinum, or silver. All of which are expensive.

I leap from the bed and sprint to the bathroom mirror. I hold an earring up to my ear. Stunning!

I remove my imitation diamond studs and slip the new earrings into place. I can’t help but chuckle. I’m naked, wearing diamonds, as if I’m so important. Who would have dreamed I’d be walking around on a yacht, sipping champagne and eating caviar?

I can’t help but feel giddy about my gift. Katsia gets excited if a man sends her flowers. Roman must like me to go to all the trouble. And how did he pull this off when we’ve been at sea for days? Like I said, Houdini.

Is this what they mean when they say gilded cage? It’s not gold, but it’s pricey. I might not know much, but I make the connection. He called me a principessa when we were on the airplane. Is this how a principessa lives?

Does his gift mean anything at all?

I reluctantly take off the earrings and return them to the box. I open the narrow drawer in my closet designed to hold jewelry and place the box safely inside. There’s a lock, but I don’t have the key.

It’s late in the afternoon and a few hours before dinner. They never eat before seven. Plenty of time to lounge around the yacht.

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