The Promise (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 2), Bethany-Kris [top 50 books to read .txt] 📗

before the fire might have been ... related. Do you have some information you can share with us?”

Demyan hoped that the fact he smiled coldly back at the man, entirely unconcerned and unbothered, told the agent nothing he said was surprising. That he knew exactly why the two were there, and they would leave with much the same information they came with—none. He had to smile. Whatever else he felt about them, his disdain mostly born from the fact they were the law and he was lawless, they didn’t appear to be idiots. Did they really think he would just tell them what he knew?

Because they asked?

“I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you how many miles separates New York and Chicago,” Demyan returned. “How could I know anything that happened there?”

“You were connected to the man. We have the intel to prove it, Demyan, and the fact your son was doing business in the Yazov territory confirms it. Try again.”

“What, you want me to say that I met Maxim Yazov a few times over the years? Fine, what difference does a friendship make?”

“And you were never in business together?”

This time, the question came from Mahon.

“Never,” Demyan said, never breaking eye contact with the man. “We don’t share the same ideals on business, to be frank. And no, I don’t need you to confirm the fire was intentionally set to know it. The little that I did understand about Maxim Yazov was enough for me to know he would never set fire to his own house, just to kill himself in the process. A king doesn’t just burn his castle.”

Not one like Maxim.

The staring contest between the men stretched on, as did the resounding silence. Demyan simply followed the agents with his gaze when the two stood up from their chairs after passing one another a quick glance. He no longer bothered to hide the contempt in his stare, either.

“If you have ever been in business with Mr. Yazov, now would be the time to tell us all about it,” Packard said. “Otherwise, if we find something, we might have to come chat again. It might not be like this, then, Demyan. Think about it.”

Demyan was unmoving. “Are you threatening me?”

“Warning you,” the taller agent replied.

“Consider it unheard.”

The men gave a respectful goodbye and thanked him for his time before they quickly took their leave, and showed out by the bull in much the same way he’d shown them in. Only this time, he didn’t come back because he would be walking them to their car. Demyan hoped he’d given them exactly what they needed to shut them up for a while, and keep them off his case.

Once the door closed, and he was alone after the only other man in the room took his leave, Demyan sipped on the vodka again, and turned to the screen on his computer. The glass was nearly empty by the time the agents’ sedan rolled up to the gate once more. The vehicle stopped while they waited to be let through. The passenger window had been rolled down, and there, he saw Packard look up straight at the camera.

Demyan mashed his teeth to hold back the rage when the man waved, and the car pulled beyond the opening iron. For now, they were gone, but it wouldn’t be the last time he saw them.

That much was clear.

THIRTEEN

Karine woke up the next day with Roman’s name already on her lips. As if she’d been dreaming of him all night. God. Maybe she did. She still couldn’t remember her dreams. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t in the room with her—because she’d demanded he stay away from her—and yet, impossibly, it felt like he’d been touching her all night. That he had his arms around her up until the very minute when she opened her eyes.

Eyes that brimmed with tears she couldn’t blink away while she struggled to focus on the sloped, log ceiling of the bedroom overhead. Already, she was remembering that Roman would be leaving today.

Barely awake, and it hurt.

Karine wasn’t ready for how it would feel when he was actually gone.

Refusing to let her mind obsess over something she couldn’t control, Karine climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom that was attached to the room. Her steps on the cold, hardwood floors hesitated when the sight of Masha asleep on the floor reminded her that she wasn’t actually alone.

Masha had made a bed for herself at the door like she’d been doing for a while. Every time Karine asked why she was choosing to sleep on the floor, like a guard at her door when she’d been given her own room, Masha’s answer was always the same.

She just wanted to make sure that Karine felt safe.

How could she argue with that, all things considered? Especially now that Roman was leaving. It was one thing to be in Vermont with him, but it was an entirely different thing when he hadn’t intended to stay.

Karine’s favorite room in the lodge was the bathroom attached to her private bedroom. The moment the door opened, gone was the wood-designed focus, and instead, the space opened up to white tile and marble. Everything from the plush towels rolled into fluffy tubes inside the rows of shelves to the tub in the middle, hanging like a stretched hammock, it was all white.

Luxurious.

Calming, in a way.

It was essentially a spa in the middle of nowhere with a spot to sit and enjoy tea or breakfast at a window nook, a freestanding shower with a view of the trees outside, and even a masseuse table.

There was no denying that Roman was going to leave her in the lap of luxury, even though he was still leaving her. Karine just wasn’t interested in any of that—she didn’t care how big the house was or the enviable amenities the place had to offer. None of it would make a difference when he wasn’t there.

She splashed icy