The Promise (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 2)

by Bethany-Kris

  THE DARKEST LIES TRILOGY

  BOOK 2

  BETHANY-KRIS

  For all those Russian Guns fans ... you’ve waited long enough. XO

  CONTENTS

  THE PROMISE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER BOOKS

  Copyright

  ONE

  The mind was a messy thing.

  A fickle thing.

  Karine’s was even worse. Her hair blew in the breeze coming through the rolled-down window, while she kept her face turned away from Roman because she didn’t want to meet his eyes. The intensity she always found staring back from the striking blue gaze distracted her in ways she couldn’t explain, and the last thing she needed was to drown in them.

  Hell.

  She was already drowning in herself, after all—in her mind, the hellscape was a dying carcass circled by the vultures that were her thoughts. Things she didn’t want to see, others that she’s worked so hard not to know ... she couldn’t possibly deal with an overwhelming man, and the violent currents inside her mind at the same time.

  Karine also didn’t know what to say to Roman without it sounding like an attack. Instead, she remained silent, her stare locked beyond the window at the passing scenery whether she was actually seeing it, or not.

  So did Roman.

  The only sound came from Masha’s soft, rhythmic inhales and exhales from the backseat. She seemed content to sleep, probably the longest stretch of rest she had for the first time in decades. It was also entirely possible that she had helped herself to the pills she used to ply Karine with—they did say what was good for the goose was good for the gander.

  Every time Karine glanced in Roman’s direction, she found him glaring at the black patch of road stretching on ahead of them. A hardness had set into his handsome features that made her pause with each glance she stole his way. He gripped the steering wheel tight until his knuckles turned white, and his mouth shut. The entire drive had been that—it felt like.

  Unbearable silence.

  Unexplained anger.

  She didn’t know how much further they had to go—never mind where he planned for them to end up. He rolled into her life at the worst possible time, seemingly unaware but too curious and interesting for his own good, and she barely knew him at all.

  Except she wanted to.

  A dangerous thing for someone like her.

  Karine almost had to wonder what was broken inside Roman Avdonin that made him do the things he’d done. What he still was doing, even. It would have made sense—maybe—if the other woman who hid within herself was one who had lusted after and seduced him, and then spent the night with him.

  Karine would be lying if she said a part of her didn’t blame him. That didn’t change how she felt sitting beside him, not knowing where they would go—safe. She had no choice but to trust him now.

  What else could she do?

  “Are you scared?” Karine suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had become something else that was just too much for her to handle. Yet, it was also something she could control.

  And maybe if he talked, then that loudness in her head might quiet. If only for a moment ... God, she’d take a single second.

  Roman didn’t have a particular reaction to that question—almost like he had been expecting it. “Scared of what?”

  The way he grumbled the words had her blinking back in response. His rumbling annoyance didn’t seem to be directed at her asking, but she still shrunk subtly back like it might be. Roman chanced a quick look her way, his shoulders gently rising at the tilt of her frown, before he continued to concentrate on the road ahead.

  “Sorry—I’m just tired,” he said.

  Karine let out the breath she’d been holding and nodded. From the corner of her eye, while she stared at his chiseled profile, she noticed the New York State sign zoom past.

  “I meant them—back in Chicago,” Karine replied, softly. “Are you scared of them?”

  That was all she needed to say for him to know exactly who she was talking about. She didn’t really think he needed a clearer picture.

  “I didn’t realize I had any reason to be afraid of them,” Roman murmured.

  Karine swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, promising to keep her fears locked tight in her chest, thumping there with every beat of her heart. He didn’t know what he was talking about—he still said it with enough confidence to convince someone else he might.

  But not her.

  Even if she wished he could.

  Maybe he genuinely didn’t know how things operated in Chicago, but Karine’s entire life had been an unfortunate lesson in the topic. Her father might be distracted with the plot to assassinate him, but it was only momentarily. She was supposed to marry Dima in two days—agreements like those weren’t broken without someone answering for it, too.

  Last night, the risk had seemed worth the choice, but as the sky cleared with the light of the morning breaking through the dark clouds, she sat in the passenger seat unsure of herself.

  Of her decisions.

  Of his.

  She had grown up around those men—she doubted the ones he came from were the same. Even though there were times of her life that she couldn’t remember, she didn’t wonder at all about this. Those men weren’t going to let her simply escape into the sunset. A deal had been made, and there were men who would make sure she kept her end of the bargain, one way or another.

  Karine hadn’t gotten away with anything in her life—she certainly didn’t think the universe was going to start now.

  Despite a sheltered life, she had in fact lived long enough to see a woman face the consequences of not seeing an arrangement through. Her wedding to Dima might not happen when it had been originally planned, but that didn’t mean it was anywhere near void.

  Roman hadn’t even mentioned the wedding.

  How could she trust this man?

  What did he have to gain by saving her—or was it keeping her? Was it possible that he would do all of this just because they slept together once?

  Same body, different girl, came a cackling glee from somewhere in the recesses of Karine’s mind. She blinked away the taunt, but it lingered all the same.

  She forced herself to talk so that voice wouldn’t. “I’m supposed to get married tomorrow. Do you realize that?”

  Roman said nothing, but his narrowing eyes while he continued to stare straight ahead said he was listening. That didn’t mean he liked what he heard.

  “I don’t think you truly understand what that means. They’re going to come looking for me,” Karine said, the steady stream of her thoughts tumbling out in fast sentences she couldn’t control. “It’s not like they’ll sit back and file a missing persons report with the cops or something.”

  A dark cast washed over Roman’s face while he acted as though the feverishness of her rambling wasn’t concerning. He was so good at doing that, she’d noticed.

  Already.

  It only urged her to continue.

  “Dima expects his bride to show up, to get what he wants, and if he doesn’t—”

  “The wedding isn’t going to happen,” Roman interjected, the
calm in his tone belying the coldness that settled in his gaze. “Not too many people know about it, anyway. I don’t think most of the Yazov bratva even knows, only those involved directly within the city limits. They had only just started delivering the invitations. By hand, mind you. There’s time for them to make a decision that doesn’t include returning you.”

  But not likely.

  Karine wasn’t dumb.

  A mess, yes.

  Dazed, at times.

  Not stupid, though.

  “Everything was set up,” she whispered, picking at her fingernails to soften the sound of her own voice saying things she hated. “We were going to exchange vows in the rose garden. The wedding dress was picked out for me, I didn’t even have to think about it. Masha was going to do my makeup.”

  Karine spoke mechanically, aware of how she sounded but unable to stop repeating everything that she had been told by others. Her father. Dima. Even by Masha. Over and over again.

  She had spent a lot of time preparing herself for her marriage to Dima. There was no real choice presented to her, she couldn’t stop the wedding—it was out of her hands.

  Karine had already been sworn to Dima, and there was no escape from that. No matter how far she ran.

  “I’m going to say it again,” Roman said, turning to meet her gaze with a clenched jaw and expressionless. “Know it will be the last time I say it, Karine. There will be no wedding tomorrow. You’re not marrying that motherfucker. Not ever.”

  She swore every muscle in his body tightened and coiled in the seat next to hers—like a snake ready to spring. If the conviction he spoke with couldn’t convince her, his anger that flared at the suggestion certainly might.

  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?

  They stood at the elevator doors until they spread apart with a loud ding. It was clear by the size and available space that it wasn’t made for more than a couple people at a time.

  “Which floor, Mr. Avdonin? I’ll take the next one,” Masha said, making her voice heard before they entered.

  “Fiftieth,” Roman replied without a glance over his shoulder. “It’ll open right to it.”

  Just as fast, he placed a hand to Karine’s lower back and urged her inside with the pressure of his palm. The doors slid shut behind them, and she caught sight of a quiet Masha before they closed. Alone with him in the confines of the elevator, she clutched her stomach, the wave of claustrophobia starting the second the floor seemed to jump under her feet.

  Maybe then would have been a good time to point out to him how she didn’t enjoy closed spaces. Her anxiety went through the roof, forcing her to ramble or babble nonsense for nothing more than the distraction it provided.

  She said the first thing to come to her mind, but she wouldn’t pretend like the thoughts hadn’t been bothering her for a while. “You said you had no choice—so you didn’t want to take me with you? Is that what you meant?”

  The elevator lifted fa
ster than she expected it to. She was able to watch the numbers change on the digital screen over the doors rapidly while the pressure and speed vibrated underneath her feet.

  Roman didn’t look at her, not even once, keeping his hand firmly stuffed in the pocket of his pants while his other held tight to her bag. Instead of answering her question, he simply asked, “You talk a lot when you’re nervous or scared, huh?”

  Karine chewed on the inside of her lower lip, muttering only, “Sorry—I can’t stop it.”

  “That’s okay. Didn’t say it was a bad thing, did I?”

  Wasn’t it?

  Before she could mull the question—or his words—over, the doors slid open again and welcomed them into what appeared to be another lobby. Only much smaller, with one entire side of the space being dedicated for floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the buildings across the block, and the street below. They passed leather bucket chairs placed on either side of a electric fireplace on the way to the door at the other end of the small corridor.

  “The whole floor on this side of the building is the apartment,” he said, making Karine realize he was paying more attention to her than she thought.

  How much did a place like this cost?

  “It seems—”

  “Modern,” he filled in when her words stopped forming altogether. “And the deed to this side of the floor was a gift to me from a family friend involved in the development when I ...” For a moment, his gaze slid to her as he seemed to consider the words he wanted to say. Then all at once, he just decided to apparently say them when he shrugged and said, “They gave it to me as a gift when I joined the family business. Some people tried to make a game out of it—who could get the best gift. Got three cars out of that, too, so hey. Not too bad.”

  Karine blinked, unsure of how to respond. Roman seemed to enjoy her stunned silence, the grin stretching across his lips making her heart race a little faster. It screamed wicked—all sorts of fun. It didn’t seem like the time, but he could probably make her willing without even trying. And she liked it.

  Roman pulled a keycard from his wallet, and slid it through the electronic lock at the end of the small entry. The door unlocked and opened on its own as he nodded a head toward the dimly lit space that greeted them. His voice was kinder than she expected when he said, “You should have a look around, make yourself at home. Might be here for a while, right?”