Page 2 of Cruel Promise


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Fuck all. She’s no different than anyone else here. Looking out for herself, and damn the Alekseev brothers who are burying their parents.

I steady my voice to temper the explosion simmering behind my insincere smile. “Dominika, all that will be settled soon. Today is not the day.”

Her head snaps back at what she no doubt perceives as a slight. She’s always been temperamental. Hell, if I were the one in charge, I’d have fired her ass years ago just to get her out of my face. But Papa was loyal. He knew a good worker when he saw one. And a good lay.

But it’s clear that today, more than anything, Dominika has her livelihood on her mind. Not her dead lover.

I suppose I’d want to know my future too. Guess I don’t blame her for that. But at the fucking funeral? She can’t wait a few days?

She can piss right off.

To let her know she’s dismissed, I turn to the next person in line, a little weasel of a man who always tried to be part of Papa’s social circle, but for a variety of reasons, remained on the sidelines. This man, I know, owes Papa money. Not as much as some others, but if he doesn’t watch himself, he’ll fall into a pit of debt from which he’ll never recover. He’s heading for trouble, and is here to ingratiate himself to my brothers and me.

However, that’s not my problem. He’s a grown man and needs to handle his own shit.

“I’m so very sorry about your father, Vadik. He was a good man,” he says.

I shake his clammy hand. “Thank you, Mr. Gates. I appreciate that.”

“I… I…,” he stumbles.

Is he actually going to try to talk business too? I’m so over these insincere assholes.

“Not the time, Mr. Gates,” I interrupt, and look at the receiving line, the end of which was still nowhere in sight.

God help me.

But one thing does catch my eye. Standing near the doorway, alone, with her back to the wall, is a young woman in a slim black dress and scuffed shoes. Her hair is in a long brown braid pulled over her right shoulder, and she’s looking down as if she actually appreciates the solemnity of the occasion. She might be the only person here who does.

As if she can sense my gaze, she looks up at me, her plump red lips a contrast to her milky white complexion. For a moment it’s as if there is no one else in the room. Everything gets quiet—the low murmurs, the sniffles, the glad-handing.

She tries to look away out of respect for my grief, unlike the other jokers and looky-loos who are glad my old man is dead, but she doesn’t. Her head tilts the tiniest bit, and for a moment, I want to take her hand and lead her out of the funeral home, away from the hypocrisy and self-interest surrounding me, and pretend it’s just another day where my rage is under control and I’m not dreaming of taking a machine gun and emptying this room of all the assholes in it.

As if our connection is too intense, she gasps, bringing her hand to her mouth. She turns and runs out of the room, and the noise surrounding me returns, that of a funeral for two murdered people.

My parents.

* * *

CHAPTERONE

Two years later

Charleigh

There my father was, in a spreading pool of blood. I look around the pawn shop. Where had the kid trying out the trombone gone? The one making so much racket I had to duck into the bathroom to continue a conversation with my big sister, Lily?

She wants me to join her in New York with our youngest sister, Evie, and at this moment in time I wish more than anything I were there, or at least anywhere but here. Lily has a new boyfriend and a place for us to stay. She wants to get us away from Pops and the pawn shop, which she always says is a ‘bad influence,’ and ‘no place for young women to grow up.’ Exactly like my mother used to say.

I have no idea what Lily’s doing for money, and how she can suddenly afford to support Evie and me in the very expensive borough of Manhattan. I don’t ask.

I’ve never been to New York. Hell, I’ve never been out of Illinois. But I know about the Big Apple, thanks to the stories my Lily has regaled me with over the past couple years she’s been there. Some are happy, some are not. But she loves it there and swears Evie and I would too.

I’m not so sure I believe her. And I’m not so sure she loves it as much as she claims. From what I can tell, it takes a certain kind of person to thrive in New York. And until now, until this new boyfriend came on the scene, I wouldn’t say Lily was thriving all that well. She works like a dog and has to swipe food from the catering company she works with just to feed herself.

But she’s in the middle of convincing me that things have changed for her, for the better, and she’s ready to help. I can continue to work toward my bookkeeping certificate at one of the community colleges there, and Evie can enroll in a high school that’s better than where she is right now. Lily says there are lots of good public schools in New York, and that with her new connections, she can get Evie into the best.

Easier said than done. Dragging Evie away from her friends, as dirt-baggy as they may be, will not be easy. And as for me, I’ve had so many things promised to me in my life that amounted to nothing more than a bunch of hot air, that I am more than cynical. People lie and promise shit all day long just to get what they want.

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