Page 31 of The Promise

“You don’t have to answer,” he added quickly, saving Karine the embarrassment of continuing to stumble over her words. “You don’t have to explain anything you don’t want to.”

Her silence grew the longer she considered what he said, and asked. Because she didn’t know how to answer his question truthfully without the shame eating her alive. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to answer.

She had some idea of what he thought of her. He’d suggested it already—that she needed professional psychiatric help to figure out and understand what had happened and was happening in her mind. Now, with Roman probing and away from the influences of her father’s control, she had no choice but to hold the stark reality in her hands.

Like a morbid offering for the man in front of her—here’s this mess they’ve made of me.

He didn’t take his eyes off her, and Karine couldn’t decide if that made it worse or better for her when it still felt like he could see right through her.

“I’ve not really had time to deal with ... all of this,” she said lamely, waving at herself. “That makes it hard.”

“I get it,” he replied quietly. “It’s fine, Karine.”

It wasn’t, but she wanted it to be.

Things like that were a lot sharper and clearer without the constant supply of mixed medications at the ready. Everything had become just a tad more difficult to deal with because she wasn’t so numb anymore. She couldn’t spend her days in a haze, walking around dazed, her time and thoughts and choices controlled by everyone around her as she certainly hadn’t been in a state to do anything for herself more often than not.

Mostly.

She was actually feeling things—real things, not manufactured by pharmaceuticals and a situation that was entirely out of her control. The universe seemed to enjoy playing cruel jokes on Karine because she hadn’t been at all ready for any of this.

No one cared to ask about that little detail, though.

She wasn’t sure she could do this, stand there in his room and be scrutinized by the intensity of his gaze. This was a bad decision. Katina had been right—what was she even doing here? She shouldn’t be there at all.

“I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just thirsty—I’ll leave now,” she muttered under her breath.

Even her excuses weren’t good enough to her own ears, but it was all she had. When she swung around to leave, she caught the sight of Roman shifting straighter in the bed from the corners of her eyes.

“Wait, I have water here if you’re thirsty.” His voice stopped her in her tracks. He had to know she really didn’t want water—it was just the excuse to use to get away. She was tempted to look over her shoulder and say exactly that, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “But I’m not sure you are, babe. Thirsty, I mean.”

“I could be,” she replied shakily.

Why did her heart thunder like that whenever he was near? Better yet, why did she like it so much?

“Except you came here—in here. You wanted something, right? That’s why you came to my room.”

She shook her head in response to that. The last thing she wanted him to think was she needed him. Karine didn’t want to be only someone that he took care of. As it was, she relied on him—and others—far too much.

At least, that’s how it felt.

Karine wasn’t in Chicago anymore, she was surrounded by strangers here. Not that being engulfed by her father’s people and his world made any difference. Everywhere she looked, as far back as she could remember, she had been under threat.

Call it instinct.

Or force of habit.

Either way, running always felt better.

Right.

“I don’t want anything, I just—I-I should go,” she insisted, reaching for the doorknob. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep, either.”

Her hand froze before it could turn the knob. He couldn’t possibly know how he made it even more difficult for her to talk simply because she wanted to hear him more. That voice in her head commanded her to leave while she still had the chance to do so, but there was also a part of her too tempted to look back at him and ask why.

Except she didn’t need to.