Page 6 of Promise Maker

Aghast, I huff a short laugh like a crazy person.“That jerk. I deserve an explanation.”Right?

Dropping my heels, I hurry down the passage andrush outside.

Mathew crumples his forehead when he sees mehastening down the frontstepsbare feet.

“Domenico!” I yell, making him twist from the car.

His father is already inside.

I march up to the man that tricked me intobelieving he wanted me.

I suppose it’s my fault for being easy—forwaiting.

“You’re seriously going to show up here after eightyears and say nothing to me?” I snap.

He remains indifferent, expression stiff.

“At least laugh at me, you fucker. Tell me youplayed me. That I’m an idiot for believing what you said in the garden.”

Domenico looks at the car, saying in a low tone, “Eraunastupidapromessa.”Didhe just say it was a stupid promise?

I suck my teeth. “What the hell does that mean? Atleast say it so I can understand.”

He steers his gaze back to me. The intensity withininstantly warms my skin and turns my pussy wet.

My body feels so weak in his presence.

A cocky mask falls into place, and he scoffs atme. “You didn’t bother to learn. See? It’s not so bad if you didn’t doeverythingI told you.” He hops into the car and shuts thedoor.

The Martelli driver takes off from our property.

“What was that about?” Mathew asks when they’reout of sight.

“Nothing. Just me being an idiot. But neveragain.”

Yeah, right. I bet I’ll masturbate later tonightwith an image of the adult Domenico in my head.

Ugh!

I mosey back into the house, collecting my heelson the way to Dad’s office. He looks perturbed, shirt sleeves rolled up, pacingbehind the desk.

“Everything all right?” I ask softly. “When didMr. Martelli return?” I refuse to acknowledge Domenico’s presence.

He stops pacing and shoves his hands into hispockets. “A few days ago.”

“Why did he seem worried about you?”

Dad manages a smile that doesn’t quite reach hisrusset eyes. “It’s Nothing, sweetheart. Emanuele is always worried for noreason.”

I frown. “I heard Mr. Martelli said someone wantsyour—”

“Let’s forget about the dinner,” he interjects.“Is Jazmine still out? Want to catch up to her?”

“She’s with her boyfriend and other friends.They’re probably calling it a night by now.”

His broad shoulders slump at a deep exhale. “Thenhow about freshly baked soft pretzels and pineapple coolattas?” He walks aroundthe desk to me. “Change into something comfortable, and let’s go for a drive.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

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