Page 3 of The Promise

Karine sucked in a sharp breath, shaking her head as she told him, “I don’t know what you’re doing, I don’t understand it at all.”

Roman didn’t even blink when he replied, “Neither do I.”

• • •

“Why did you do this?” Karine asked, well-aware that some time had passed since she last said a word. Within the city limits, everything was new to her. Each building, every block ... she tried to take it all in, and Roman said nothing while she did so. She’d never been anywhere but Chicago. Yet, even there, she hadn’t done much exploring of her own city. At Roman’s questioning glance, she added with a shrug, “Take me, I mean?”

It was a question that wouldn’t leave her alone—the problem was that she could come up with a million answers of her own, and none of them were good. He didn’t answer straightaway, but he didn’t seem like he was trying to come up with something just to say it, either.

Was he ignoring her—changing his mind about bringing her with him, maybe?

She couldn’t decipher this man. His mind was a place she couldn’t reach, but she suspected it was nothing like her own. Her belief that he wouldn’t hurt her, not for as long as he assumed responsibility for her, did nothing to assuage the other questions she had.

Like what if he woke up tomorrow morning, and decided he didn’t want to deal with her anymore?

It was then, as she tried to avoid his gaze that kept slipping her way, that she noticed the bruising on his wrists. The blackened-blue marks were too fresh. She’d been thinking he kept holding tight to the wheel because he was angry—those grimaces and hard stare was further proof—but suddenly, she didn’t think that was the case at all.

Karine couldn’t help but ponder if those bruises were in anyway connected to what caused him to walk into her bedroom in the middle of the night, and take them away. She had a feeling he wouldn’t tell her even if she asked him.

“I don’t remember any protests when I suggested this plan last night,” Roman replied, arching a brow her way as he rolled onto a bridge behind a line of taxi cabs.

She didn’t miss it.

How careful he was—how he posed each word as to not suggest something that might set Karine off. He clearly hadn’t forgotten that breakdown in her bedroom the night they spent together.

Karine chest tightened all the same—she didn’t have the words, or maybe the vocabulary, to explain to him how overwhelmed she was. At everything, constantly. He didn’t make it better, even if he might sometimes make it easier. He had offered an opportunity that couldn’t be refused, but now she wanted to know the truth.

What did it actually mean?

Before she could ask; Roman continued speaking. “You could ask me about your father, about—what he’s done or is going to do. You could ask anything, Karine, but what you do is question my intentions. What makes you think I had a choice in any of this—that even this car that isn’t mine is somehow part of my plan?”

He didn’t look at her while he spoke that time, but she was suddenly grateful for that. Not even the obsessive, undeniable attraction she felt for the man was enough to soothe the way his words stung her skin.

She had asked.

At least he was honest.

Karine tried to find an appropriate response, but the words were lost to her murky mind as Roman pulled the vehicle off the road, and into the underground parking lot of a tall apartment building with windows that looked like panes of chrome, and high, black brick walls. A thrill ran down her spine at the sight.

She didn’t know much about New York, but at the very least—well, the movies had been right.

It was glamorous.

• • •

The lobby of the building had clearly been designed with the outside in mind. Chrome accents twinkled in the tile under their feet while black brick made up the walls, and even the face of the reception desk that they passed in a hurry. Roman walked like he was, anyway. It took two of Karine’s steps to keep up with his one.

Masha trailed far behind them, still as quiet as ever. All the years that she’d served the Yazov household taught her how to make herself invisible, and blend into the background when not required.

Karine stared up in awe of the rows of hanging chandeliers made from twisted chrome along the high ceilings of the lobby. She barely even cared that their bright lights made it hard to see what was ahead of her when she looked away.

Roman definitely had good taste.

And money.

The man and woman at the reception desk greeted them with smiles as they passed—Roman didn’t offer a reply as he headed straight for the elevator. Karine, at least, returned their smiles with her own, but couldn’t say it felt very true.

He carried one bag in his loose grip—hers. It was the only one he’d been able to pack in a hurry. Only what you’ll need for a couple days, I can replace everything else, he had told her earlier as they drove into the state. She’d already noticed how he had no bags of his own. Did he really have no belongings in Chicago—nothing that he held dear enough to bring back with him?