Page 69 of Sinful Promise

My heart stops. I don’t want to see my brother hurt. However, it is better than being dead.

“Will you get Albert out if he helps you?”

“Yes, I will do my best. I mean him no harm. However, there is a score to settle older than you.”

“Right.” I need to focus more on the now and less on the future. This brief interlude of stolen moments with Roman is something I will cherish forever.

“Now,” he says, and kisses my nose, “did you get the box?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you so much. The earrings are incredible. I’m afraid to wear them.”

“Why?”

“Someone might want to steal them.”

“I’m with you, no one would dare touch you, or I would kill them.” His tone is void of emotion, and I pull back enough to look into his face. He’s serious.

The thought scares me and excites me at the same time.

His eyes turn a darker blue, reminding me of the color of the sea before the storm hit us off the coast of France.

“Fine. I’ll wear them.” I quickly agree. “They’re beautiful.”

“Great. Let’s lie in the sun again before we meet everyone for dinner.”

I nod.

We make our way to the sun deck and collapse on the loungers. Roman rubs suntan oil over my back and legs, covering every inch. When he massages the oil between my thighs, I’m aroused, and from the bulge in his swim trunks, so is he.

I’m glad he’s taken the time to ask me about my brothers. Roman may kill people, but he cares about my feelings and thoughts for some reason. I was never extended the same courtesy or concern at home. My family only asked for my opinion regarding dinner options and snow predictions.

From what he’s telling me, there will be a resolution to my situation, and our lives depend on a favorable outcome to the meeting with Andrian. As much as Roman wants revenge, he’s thinking about long-term consequences.

I remind myself that no matter how much I love him, I have to leave in the end. It’s too easy for me to give in to the temptation of his body. Sure, he can provide me with a life of luxury, but I’ll always be his property.

I must get my head out of the clouds and back in the game. Roman might be manipulating me, baiting the hook with this illusion of freedom. He knows it’s what I want more than anything, so he could be using it to gain my trust. Trust is a powerful weapon, and my survival depends on not trusting everything he says.

What is he planning? What does he plan on doing with that cache of guns, other than starting a revolution?

“Dasha,” Roman calls, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes?”

“It’s time to get ready for dinner.”

26

DASHA

“Why do I have to dress all fancy when it’s just us?” I complain, stepping into a silk dress with baroque motifs in light floral colors.

The dress is mid-length and drapes over my shapely hips. The ruffles on the bodice run down the front, making the garment appear seamless. The rouleau straps imply no bra. I glance in the full-length mirror and twirl, watching the dress swirl around my legs. I love the way it shows off my cleavage. Whatever this dress cost, it’s worth every Euro because I feel pretty in it.

Roman buttons his starched dress shirt and rolls up the sleeves. The tattoos on his arms are vibrant, contrasting with his tanned skin. One forearm is covered with a large snake; the ink on the other arm consists of unfamiliar symbols. I assume one might be for the Bratva. “You’re with me,” he says shortly. “You represent my family.”

“That’s a job for your wife,” I mutter as I walk around the end of the bed with sandals dangling in my hand.

He crosses the room so fast that I fear he’s about to hit me. I usually don’t get hangry, so why am I being mean? He grabs my arm, forcing me to face him.

---