Page 28 of Promise Maker

“No.” I cut to my father. “I’ll head to thewarehouse. I might be there until late.”

“Staiattento,” Father tells me.

“Sempre.” I leave them both there, clenching andunclenching my fist as I tread to my bedroom.

The thirst for Solari pushes to the forefront yetagain. It forces me to relieve my hungry cock in the shower with images of hercurvy body, deep breaths, and the yearning in her gaze when I clutched herthroat.

It will be impeccably challenging to deny mycraving now that we’re no longer oceans apart and only a few steps from eachother.

How long will this torment last?

Returning home late proves pointless because as Iveer into the piazza, I glimpse Solari pacing around in sleep shorts and a tanktop, curls piled into a loose bun.

Arms crossed at her stomach, she wanders into therose garden and stalls at the fountain, staring at the water maiden like she’sentranced.

I shouldn’t go over. My desire is escalatingagain, and I can almost hear the profound lashing of my heart.

But I’m a glutton for torture.

SoIfucking creep towards her.

I just can’t help it.

She pulls me—the woman I’ve craved for so long.

“It’s late,” I remark, startling her.

Solari pivots with her hand at her chest. “I’mwell aware. I can’t fall asleep without seeing….” She cuts to the flowers,adding in a sad and low voice, “Blood. Bodies.”

Look at that—something we both have in common.

“You can walk around, but don’t ever go out thegates even if security is with you. It’s too much of a risk.”

Solari huffs and steps past me.

“Are you sleepy now?” I ask.

Halting, she casts me a sidelong glance. “No. I’mgoing someplace you’re not.”

“Why?” I smirk. “Didn’t you long to see me foreight years?”

She twists her mouth, turning fully to face me.“Let’s just forget that.”

“Forget?” It infuriates me. How could I forgetwhen I’ve spent years fixating, yearning for her?

“Well, considering you swore to my dad,” she adds.“And according to you, Martelli keeps their word.”

I step forward.

She backs up a little, hurried air seeping out.

“Look how I unnerve you,” I discern, carrying mygaze over her body. “You’re fidgeting. I’ll break the promise if you say theword.”

That results in a soft gasp.

“I won’t look past my dad’s decision.” She soundsas if she’s forcing herself to hang it between us.

Frustration mounts, making me grind out throughclenched teeth, “Understood. I won’t dishonor Bishop’s memory.”

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