Page 94 of Sinful Promise

“Life in the fast lane,” Francesca murmurs. “So, Dasha, tell me, are you in love with Roman?”

“Um.”

“It’s fine, everyone falls for him. He’s a magnet. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t into him.”

I remember hearing them talk about me on the yacht. They’d debated whether they could trust me and wondered if I would try to escape. I can’t go anywhere as long as Andrian breaths. He’ll hunt me down, and I don’t have the resources money buys.

“Be good to him,” she warns.

“I have no ill will with him. He saved me.”

“What do you want in the long run?”

I gaze out the window, taking in the beautiful view as we drive down the mountain. We come into the main city. It is vibrant, with stores and people everywhere. I’ve never seen crowds this large. We’re not allowed to congregate in groups back home.

“To be happy,” I murmur at last, turning to meet her gaze.

“An admirable goal. You’re welcome to stay with me after this is over. I know you love Italy, and it will give you time to figure out what you want.”

I’m overwhelmed by her generosity. “Thank you, Francesca. I appreciate that.”

Irina finishes her phone call, and the vehicle stops in front of an exclusive shop, judging from the expensive cars in the parking lot. I peer at the storefront. The sign hanging over the door has gold script lettering, and the window display features an assortment of sexy-looking full-length dresses, purses, and shoes. This is convenient.

“Won’t everything be sold out, considering it’s such a popular event?” I ask.

“These shops are prepared. It’s a smaller group than the Oscars. I think we can handle it,” Irina says, then chuckles as her door opens.

The shop is filled with women who are older, and there are guards at the doors.

I look around and see a case of jewels by the register.

“Oh, the bling,” Francesca says as she slips her arm through mine and pulls me to the back of the store. “Dresses first, then shoes, purse, and jewels. You would look incredible in a dark green dress.”

I’m escorted to a rack of gowns. I touch the fabric and run my hand over the bodices of the dresses. Some are heavier and have the texture of velvet. Others are light and fluid. There are sleek gowns that remind me of an hourglass. I decide they must be similar to mermaid-style wedding dresses, and I’m afraid my large ass would look peculiar in them. I frown. How do I decide?

Irina and Francesca scour other sections of dresses. Soft, soothing music plays as we shop. Assistants seem to be all the rage, and it appears they’ve assigned themselves to the customers. I’m learning that exclusivity implies incredible service, and the fact that we have two guards and a woman who wants to assist us isn’t lost on me.

I hear women whispering and turn to the front door of the store. A woman stands there. Approximately my age, she has long, shiny brown hair, light blue eyes, and perfect cheeks. She’s beautiful, with a face that stops me in my tracks. Her legs are longer than the day, and she has four gorgeous women with her, all glammed up in skimpy but tasteful outfits. The woman with the long legs appears to be the leader of the group, and she’s wearing a white camisole with an open black blazer. The white shows off her perfect tan. Her lips are full, and she walks with the loose-limbed grace of a model.

Irina is suddenly beside me. “Oh, fuck. That’s Nadia.”

“Nadia?” Is this the model I heard them talking about on the boat?

“Mm, yeah. She was on the cover ofSports Illustrated. She’s from an impoverished coal mining town in Russia, but she’s living the dream now. Rags to riches, right there.”

“Are she and Roman are a thing?”

“I can’t deny it. They’ve fucked like bunnies, but he’s into you.”

I decide I can’t compete with Nadia. I’m learning to fight for what I want, but I’m not fighting over a man. It’s beneath me. I have more important things to do with my time.

I observe her for a minute. She is stunning. Judging from the way the women in the store are staring at her, she might as well be walking on water. She moves between the racks of clothes like a butterfly pollinating a flowering plant.

She talks, and her friends hang on every word. They giggle together and hold up dresses, twirl around with them, then hang them up and move on to something else. Two attendants follow them around like puppies. I wonder what it’s like to have money and be successful.

Irina jets off to look at something that catches her eye, leaving Francesca and me alone.

“Oh, I love this for you,” Francesca hums, holding up a dress.

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