by Bethany-Kris
Glancing at him, just for a split-second, she didn’t want him to think she was staring at him. She didn’t want him to mistake her for Karine. They were not the same people. They knew and saw different things that made them who they were. She wondered if he would understand that—if he truly understood them.
Roman was in profile, his knuckles whitened as he clutched the steering wheel hard. He focused on the road ahead of them, but also kept glancing in the rearview mirror. Never forgetting to check that they weren’t being followed.
“Aren’t you going to ask me where we’re going?” he finally asked, breaking the silence that had existed between them for what felt like hours. It couldn’t have been longer than one, maybe two. She didn’t mind that time stretched on.
Katina looked in the rearview mirror, too, making sure Masha was still asleep. Not that it mattered if the woman overheard her talking—out of all of them, she was the one the nanny often feared.
For good reason.
“No, I trust you,” she replied.
She didn’t look at Roman again even though she wanted to—if only to enjoy the view.
Katina couldn’t remember Karine ever being attracted to a man before. She didn’t trust men. Neither did Katina, to be fair—she hadn’t even trusted Leonid to get the job done, but she was at a point where he was her last option.
So, why Roman?
Why had she picked him?
Well, she hadn’t.
Karine did.
Katee, too.
They trusted him, but they weren’t here. She was—and so far, she didn’t have a reason to distrust Roman.
“Well, I’m glad you trust me, but I have some questions for you,” Roman murmured, watching her from the corner of his eye. “Don’t feel like you have to answer, but—”
“What?” She clasped her fists tightly, feeling the pinch of her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands, not sure she wanted to hear his question but still saying, “Just ask.”
Roman tightened his grip on the steering wheel more. He checked the mirrors again as the question slipped from his mouth. “Why did you plot to kill your father?”
Katina’s gaze narrowed.
Anything but this.
She turned away to observe the trees that passed them by in a blur of green as they left the miles of fields behind. Her eyes were unable to focus on just one. She wished he hadn’t asked her that question.
Specifically, that way.
A few more moments of silence passed, and she felt the brush of Roman’s hand on her knee. Her instinct usually dictated her to jerk away, to react violently to a man’s touch—but she didn’t. This time.
She met his gaze, then, and he took his eyes off the road to look at her, too.
“You don’t have to answer that,” he said.
“He’s not my father.”
“Karine’s, then, but you—you have the sister’s name, right?”
“She’s dead.”
Roman didn’t even blink. “And you’re definitely not.”
“Definitely not. He’s not my father.”
Beside her, he nodded. “And the rest?”
Right.
The why.
Why did she do it—try to do it.
Katina was unsettled at the quiver in her voice when she whispered, “Maybe someday, I’ll tell you.”
If he noticed, he didn’t say. Roman nodded, and that was that. Perhaps she expected him to fight her for an answer—to threaten and lay down ultimatums like most men did when they didn't immediately get their way. As it turned out, he wasn’t like any man she had ever met before.
He wasn’t going to force anything.
“Aren’t you curious about Karine? Isn’t she the one you want?” Katina asked.
She found herself as curious as she was afraid of his answer. And she wasn’t quite sure why.
Roman shrugged, replying, “I’m sure wherever she is, she’s safe. Because of you—I suspect. And Katee.”
“Maybe. Katee only wants to play. Me—I had no other choice. No one else was going to step in and do something, so I did. If she didn’t kill herself, someone else probably would.”
If he was shocked at her frankness, he didn’t show it. Roman’s eyes did narrow a bit as he stared straight ahead at the road. She couldn’t help but wonder what was running through his mind, and no matter what he said, Katina knew she was right.
He did want Karine.
“You know, I’ve read a few romances—watched some movies—and in all of them, the hero saves the woman he loves. But the only love Karine knows is painful. Left her feeling ashamed and degraded. A love that was unworthy, that she used against those around her in order to survive.”
She wasn’t the chatty type, but the words kept spilling.
“I don’t believe in happily ever afters,” Katina added, lifting one shoulder in a shrug when he glanced over at her. “And this isn’t a romance, is it? You’re not a hero. You don’t love me. You don’t even love Karine.”
She didn’t want him to answer. It would hurt her if he agreed with her, which she knew he would, but she hated liars even more. He didn’t seem like the type to lie.
Instead, he said, “There is a lot we don’t know about each other, Katina.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks.
What did that mean?
Better yet, what did she want to hear?
“Is this how you love?” she asked, honestly curious. The risks and decisions he’d made surrounding Karine certainly didn’t feel ... safe. Even if they were good. “Uncontrolled and uncontained? Erratic and unexpected? Risking it all? Crazy love doesn’t scare you?”
He barely even thought about it, the words coming out easily. “That’s the only way to love—if you’re gonna. What good is giving someone the world if you haven’t ruined it first to get to them?”
The next breath stuttered in her lungs.
No.
This wasn’t some fairy tale romance—and he certainly wasn’t a hero. That didn’t mean the man couldn’t sound like one, and that only interested Katina more. Because then she found herself thinking ... do bad men make good heroes?
Could they?
If they even existed.
“What happens now?” she asked lowly, turning back to the window and the racing scenery.
“I don’t know,” Roman replied, “and I especially don’t know what happened to Karine and Katee back in that house, but they’re not going back there. Ever.”
Katina swallowed around the large lump that had formed in her throat, knowing she shouldn’t, and still telling him anyway, “The worst things happened to them there.”
• • •
Want more of Roman and Karine’s story—check for book 2, THE PROMISE, to continue the trilogy ...
Here’s a sneak peek:
Chapter 1
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 almost growled 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 o
f 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?”