Page 106 of The Promise

Money, that was.

He hadn’t used his wealth to its full capacity before, but now he knew exactly where to use it. How to make that money talk.

The money he threw at people made them willing to turn their cheek to a lot of little details. Like when he was able to acquire a chartered private jet to Las Vegas in the middle of the night. They didn’t even ask him for fucking identification—the jet was already heading that way anyway to pick up the wealthy owner who had been staying in his weekend penthouse suite on the strip.

In Vegas, their first stop was at the office of a forger who was the top in the business. He’d ordered a new set of IDs for Karine that would help them move easier, and get everything else out of the way without much trouble.

Roman had already gotten rid of his phone, opting instead to pick up two burners that were only for him and Karine to call one another when he might need to leave her alone in the high-rise, luxury hotel suite for more than fifteen minutes. He didn’t use the burner to call anyone in New York, and wouldn’t unless he had absolutely no other option.

It was just him and Karine, flying solo. Along with the pile of cash he used to help their wings take flight.

He bought a new car in Vegas—a neon green with black accents Lambo—from a friend who had helped teach Roman the ropes when it came to boosting back in the day. Competition made that friendship hard after some time, but shit still worked out for the two in the end, he supposed.

As he and Karine drove through the city three days after their arrival, it made him laugh to see how much joy the lights and the life of Vegas brought to her. She marveled at all of it, mesmerized and taken with the sights and sounds of a new city. He suspected she was as much overwhelmed as he was overjoyed, but that didn’t stop her from reveling in the chaos. She couldn’t stop staring up through the sunroof at the way the lights danced overhead.

The best part, though?

She’d finally shown him that red dress. Well, it wasn’t so much a dress as a red jumpsuit that looked like one what with the way with hugged her body and billowed in the legs—and she had never been more sexy to him because she wore it well. And she knew it. It showed off her slender body and accentuated her perfect breasts with the low dip in the front and back. Her dark, wavy hair flew around her face in the breeze, but it was the happiness that sparkled in her eyes that killed him in the best kind of way.

“I want to come back here someday,” she said, airless in the wind.

Roman smirked. “Whatever you want—maybe we’ll make a tradition of it.”

“We better.”

She flashed a teasing smile and he wished he could frame that moment when she looked so carefree beside him—flying high, because for only a second, it felt like nothing and no one was chasing them. When nothing was holding her back.

Because that was when he knew.

This was the woman he would always love.

• • •

They drove up to the little white chapel with an actual white picket fence. That made Roman squint a bit. At the end of the driveway stood a man and a woman. They would officiate and witness the wedding, making their marriage legal and binding, and overlook a few details to make it happen because of the extra cash Roman had paid to the couple.

But it was practically done. Roman had taken care of the details in advance, and all they needed to do was turn up, do the ceremony, and sign the papers. Once the woman filed it with her husband’s signature, there was no going back.

Now they were here.

He knew it was a bit cringe. A chapel in Vegas. Cheap looking, and cheaper feeling. The bride in bright red, and a groom who still had visible bruises and cuts. No family or friends around. Was this the wedding he’d pictured for himself?

No.

To be fair, he’d also never pictured getting married in the first place. So, in the end it didn’t really matter to him what the chapel looked like or if the officiant was wearing a wig, because none of that mattered. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him—the same thing he’d thought his father was weak for, being so in love that he was constantly at the beck and call of his wife, was the only thing Roman currently dreamed of.

Fucked, that.

But he didn’t mind it.

When he parked the car, Karine turned to him. Her eyes were so bright, her smile growing radiant—and now that he thought about it, she hadn’t stopped smiling since she got into his car in Vermont. With him, she was happy.

Always.

He kept reminding himself of that.

But there was still something lurking behind her stare, too. It felt like every quiet moment between them was charged with the questions she couldn’t seem to bring herself to ask, but he always saw them staring back.

Thing was ... if she couldn’t ask them, he didn’t know if she could handle the answers. So, he was going to wait. She would have to ask, simple as that. Sometimes, self-awareness was, in itself, a lesson in strength.