Page 44 of The Promise

“I heard about what happened earlier,” he noted, raising his brow as if to offer it however she wanted to take it. “Thought you might need someone to check on you—make sure you’re okay.”

Katina cocked her head to one side, the little knot in her brows furrowed deeply. “Why shouldn’t I be okay? I’m great.”

That smile grew on her face.

Sensual, and wicked.

Roman stepped in her direction to get a bit closer, and only hesitated when he saw her pulling a paring knife out of the bath water. She didn’t do it in a threatening way, but just held it up over the water where he could see it.

Like she intended for him to know she still had it. Apparently, nobody had been able to take the knife away from her, yet.

Roman eyed the knife, then Katina again. He wasn’t afraid of the weapon, and she wasn’t exactly threatening him with it, so he was fine to act like it didn’t really matter.

She gripped it tightly while she made the blade dance along the surface of the water, the small pot lights overhead catching the glint of the metal, and the waves of the steaming water to dance along the tile.

“You know, none of this would have happened if you had just been here like you said you would be,” she told him, her tone almost careless though every word had its own impact for Roman. Now, she wasn’t looking at him, as the knife in her hand had gained all of her attention.

“No, it probably wouldn’t have,” he agreed. “The first mistake they made was letting you go downstairs.”

Katina’s smile deepened into a smirk, her enjoyment of dissecting the scene of her own violent-making clear when she replied, “Well, they couldn’t have stopped me even if they wanted to. I wanted to eat at the restaurant.”

She turned to him with bliss-hooded eyes, and he only urged her on.

“And what did you do next? Did you ask for a knife to cut your fruit with?”

She breathed in deeply, and he made a careful effort to keep his gaze from wandering to where her breasts rose and fell, just beneath the surface of the water.

“I do like my fruit, and I like it sliced just so,” Katina said with a nod and a teasing smile while Roman shook his head.

It was the sound of his disappointment falling out in a sigh that seemed to bother Katina the most when she scowled suddenly. He didn’t think she actually cared about what he thought until that moment.

“That man shouldn’t have touched me,” she snapped.

“Maybe not, but he was also trying to keep you safe.”

Katina hissed a breath past clenched teeth. “You’re the one who made her feel unsafe.”

He stopped at that. Katina’s lips trembled as she pursed them together, almost pouting, but not quite because it was clear she just wanted to stop herself from talking. She had allowed that split second of weakness before the stoniness returned to her eyes again.

“You’re talking about Karine?” he asked.

“Yes, you already know. You were supposed to make her feel safe here—you didn’t. We talked, remember. In the car, we talked, Roman. You left. Abandoned her. Made her wonder if you’d ever—”

“Of course I was coming back,” he interjected, refusing to even let her get the words out. “I know that being here isn’t like being back in Chicago—but goddammit, the bubble that Maxim created around your whole world doesn’t exist here. I can’t be in her sight twenty-four-seven. It’s just not possible. There are other problems to handle. Things I have to take care of to keep her safe.”

From his vantage point, he could see the dribble of blood on the blade of the knife. Most of it had been washed away in the bath water, but some remained. The faintest trickle. He watched as Katina brought the blade closer to her face, heart thudding in his chest. She was only predictable in the way that she was unpredictable. He didn’t know what she was capable of doing next.

Not that he wanted to, but he watched her for the moment because he might need to stop any act of self-harm. She didn’t suggest it, but he assumed the only way to know for sure was to plan for the worst, hope for the best.

“Karine doesn’t understand that,” Katina continued, her words a low murmur. So soft that Roman had to lean closer to hear her. He wondered if she actually meant those words for him, or just herself.

The tip of the blade met her bottom lip as her gaze transfixed on his once more. That mouth of hers—the same one he’d kissed last night, parted with his own, tasted until she was gasping for air—was now painted with the smear of red dribbling down to the tip of the knife. Katina didn’t seem bothered by it, although Roman didn’t know whose blood it was. She licked it without warning, making every muscle in his body grow taut.

“You’ll have to kill him now,” she told him.

Not once did she take her eyes off him, either. It was easy to forget who the predator was in the room when she was beautiful. Heavy and thick in his throat, he forced the lust down and focused on forming the words struggling to get out.

She bobbed gently in the water, the wavy surface lapping against silky, wet pinked skin. He knew exactly how that skin felt to the touch—how soft and perfect she was sighing softly when he tasted it.