Page 102 of Sinful Promise

My parents are already here, and a huge smile breaks out on my mom’s face when she notices us.

She jumps to her feet and hurries around the table to give Dimitri a hug first.

“Looking lovely as always, Charlotte.” Dimitri kisses my mom on the cheek.

Mom’s face floods with color, and she waves her hand at the compliment. She’s wearing a sage green linen dress, and her shoulder-length blonde hair pulled back into a low twist.

“Watch it, son. She’s taken,” my father chimes in from his spot at the table.

I roll my eyes at the two founding members of the Dimitri Koslov fan club.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore my brother-in-law, but sometimes, I feel like they prefer him over their actual children.

I have to wait patiently for my mom to fuss over Zara until I finally get my turn.

“Hey, Mom.” I give her a hug.

Mom pulls back to look over my outfit. “That dress is a good choice. I think Tom likes girls in blue.”

“Great.” I groan inwardly and purposefully don’t look over to the table where my blind date is waiting for me.

She loops her arm through mine as she guides me over to the table. “Make sure to tell him what a good tennis player you are. Men like women who are athletic.”

“Noted.”

“And that you’re planning on studying for a master’s. It shows discipline.”

“When did I become a prized mare to be auctioned off?”

Zara looks over her shoulder at me and shoots me a glare.

“Be nice,” she mouths, and I scowl.

Mom guides me closer to the man in question. “Tom, I want you to meet my daughter, Emily.”

My eyes land on the unfamiliar man with floppy brown hair and glasses sitting beside my father, and I fight the urge to cringe.

He gets to his feet. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

He flashes me a smile, which shows every single one of his teeth, and I can’t help but notice that his checkered shirt is a little wrinkled.

He’s not the worst man I’ve ever seen, but he’s certainly no Danil.

“You too.”

I glance around the table and when I notice that he’s not here yet, I’m hit with a wave of disappointment.

I take a seat beside Tom. “Don’t suppose you’re going to let me have some wine, are you, Dad?”

“Are you twenty-one yet?” He gives me his signature look that silently lets me know not to push my luck with him tonight.

“So, Emily, your mother tells me you’re studying business at NYU.”

And so, the questions begin.

It’s not until I’m one glass of painfully non-alcohol sparkling water down and twenty questions deep with Tom that Danil finally makes an appearance.

It takes everything in me to stop my jaw from hitting the table as I observe him.

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