Page 77 of Sinful Promise

I try not to stare and use the water bottle to hide my face.

I comment, “Either you’re training for a bodybuilding competition, or you’re on steroids.” I pull a lounger closer to her and sit down, removing my coverup to reveal my bright pink bikini. The color is a reminder that I’m the youngest one in the group.

“Thank you, you’re a dear. I love to work out with weights and practice martial arts. Krav Maga is my favorite. I cherry-pick my favorite moves from each fighting discipline and combine them to create my own style. I used to box, too.” She shrugs her shoulders and sips her champagne as if everyone can kill someone with their bare hands.

“Maybe you can show me some stuff in the weight room. I’ve been meaning to get to it.”

“I’d love to.” She hangs on to her straw hat as a gust of wind cuts across the bow. “It’s a gorgeous day to catch some rays.”

Like Irina, she’s wearing dark sunglasses, so it’s hard to tell if she’s for real or if she’s giving me lip service, but she impresses me as someone who means what they say. I tug on a ball cap a crew member gave me and lay back on the lounger. The cap is more my style, and sunbathing is new to me. The closest I ever came to being a lady of leisure was when I was sick in bed with the flu or bronchitis.

I’m counting on these ladies to show me how it’s done.

“We need some music,” Francesca says, closing her book.

“I’ll handle it.” Irina gets the attention of a deckhand, and less than a minute later, European pop streams from surround-sound speakers.

“That’s perfect,” Francesca sighs.

“I take it you just got married,” I say, curious but trying not to sound too nosy.

“Oh, yes. We’ve been together for some time. It was a matter of getting around to it. I stay very busy with a number of businesses in southern Italy—not Sicily, mind you. And my husband, Sal, well, his family business is in Tuscany.”

“You’re so lucky. If Tuscany is anything like Elba, sign me up,” I reply.

She and Irina chuckle.

It’s beginning to look more and more like she’s part of a family business, and so are the Volkovs. Is this an international convention of mafias? What better way to escape detection than to float on a yacht that can’t be traced to a holding company with their names on it? She saidSicilylike it’s a dirty word, so she’s not connected to them. Everyone knows Sicily is notorious for the Cosa Nostra.

Irina shares very little about her personal life. It’s hard to tell if she’s part of a mafia or a private contractor. I’m still trying to figure out her role with these friends.

We lounge, drifting in and out of casual conversation.

“Tell me, Dasha, how is Roman in the sack?” Francesca asks.

“I don’t have anyone to compare him to, but he’s been very generous.”

“I heard you ran away from your wedding. That took some balls. There might be hope for you yet.” Her smile conveys acceptance.

Hope of what, I wonder.

“I’m not one to get involved with the men my father is in bed with, and I knew I had to get out. The fear of Andrian outweighed everything.”

“I agree. You did the right thing, Dasha.” Irina sits up and pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Andrian is a bad man. You did the right thing listening to your gut instinct. Those instincts are there to protect you. Never ignore them.”

“You’ve had that feeling before?” I turn to face her, sitting cross-legged on the lounger.

“Absolutely, more times than I can count. Andrian is responsible for my mother’s death. I want to look him in the eye and get justice for her.”

“He killed your mother when she was undercover?”

“Yes. I’ve spent years waiting for the opportunity to get close to him. He sticks to his own, and they protect him. He rarely lets any outsider near him. It’s kept him safe all these years. He’s like that drug kingpin in the showFerry, moving ecstasy and heroin through Europe like it’s candy.”

“I had no idea.”

“We didn’t realize you were indirectly connected to him. I was coming along on Roman’s vacation as a friend. We’ve not seen each other in some time.”

Alex and Roman are friends, and I’ve never seen anything but affection between them, like the siblings they are. “Roman’s with Alex now, I presume?”

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