Page 72 of Cruel Promise


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The suite is a cross between a luxury apartment and a high-end hotel room. Not that I’m familiar with either, I just spend plenty of time on Pinterest looking at fancy stuff.

And it’s gorgeous, which wouldn’t be so unusual if we weren’t in what looks like an old, run-down building in a tired, forgotten part of town.

But incongruity has marked my life since I was dragged out of my father’s shop. There’s no reason for things to start making sense now.

The walls are painted a rich, dark, masculine burgundy, and the central room is furnished with oversized sofas surrounding a thick rug I’d like to dig my bare toes into. A small flame even burns in a gas fireplace, and the walls are hung with large abstract paintings. I’ve never seen anything like it, in person, that is.

I turn to see several doors off the main room, which must be the guys’ rooms, and Vadik points to the one that’s open. Guess that’s mine.

“Have you guys always lived here?” I ask.

Kir laughs. “Hell no. We’re just staying here while we get things settled at the club. When we can spend less time here, we’ll go back to the compound.”

“Compound?”

He nods as he pours a drink and passes it to Niko. “We own a large piece of property that we each have homes on. It’s the same place our parents’ home used to be. Before it caught fire.”

* * *

CHAPTERFIFTY-NINE

Charleigh

A compound. This is news. “Was their house… completely destroyed?”

Shit. Why did I just ask that? It can’t be something the guys want to talk about. But on the other hand, what do I care? It’s not like I’m trying to make friends here or get a Miss Manners award for not asking tacky questions.

My mother would not approve, but then, she’s not here, is she?

Niko takes a seat on the sofa and kicks his feet up on a leather-covered coffee table. “No. It was not destroyed. Not entirely. The fire was put out quickly, as it turned out. Not fast enough to save them, though. We had it torn down anyway. None of us ever wanted to go back in there.”

Kir salutes with his glass of whatever, after passing me a glass of the same, which I did not ask for and do not want. “Now there’s a memorial garden where their house stood. It’s full of our mother’s favorite flowers and trees. She and our father would have loved it.”

I’d like to visit this place, not only the garden but the whole compound. I don’t bother asking if I can. My opportunities to breathe fresh air are going to be few and far between soon, and I doubt these guys are taking me on any field trips between now and then after what happened today. I still wonder if I can get Dimitri to help me, but he’ll have his own demands, and who knows whether they’ll be worse than what I’m already facing.

I doubt I’ll be doing any more sneaking out either, regardless of how badly Evie needs me. And that hurts, probably more than anything else about this nightmare. My future is as uncertain as one can be, but my sister’s is even more so, and she’s not even had a chance to live yet. She’s just a kid.

But I keep the guys talking. Perhaps something will come of it. “You are so sure it was Dimitri who killed them.”

If I’m going to be nosy, I’m going all the way.

“Dimitri has always contested that his father left the club to our dad. He’s convinced the man would have wantedhimto have part of the club. But ours became the rightful owner, one-hundred percent and Dimitri has had a bug up his ass about that ever since. He thought by getting rid of our dad he could swoop in. He had no idea Papa left the club to Uncle Mikey,” Kir says.

“Not that Mikey was much better than Dimitri,” Vadik adds. “He was only slightly less useless.”

Kir picks up some sort of remote and clicks it in the direction of the fireplace. A huge TV screen lowers out of nowhere. “Uncle Mikey was a useless piece of shit, but he hated Dimitri just like we do. He didn’t want him to have the club just like we don’t.”

“Why doesn’t Dimitri drop it, and just focus on his other businesses?”

I’m pretty sure my kind of logic doesn’t apply to this situation, but I’ve got to ask. It’s like trying to look away from a car accident. You want to, but you don’t.

“He knows the club is a cash cow for one, but primarily it’s an ego thing for him. He feels fucked over.”

Still doesn’t make sense to me. The guy’s going to get himself killed at some point.

Holy crap. Am I thinking like these people? Drawing conclusions the way they do? God help me.

Actually, I’m pretty sure God isn’t going to help me out of this situation. Nobody is. Unless I can appeal to the guys.

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