Page 45 of Sinful Promise

“Uh…”

“Are you over that horrible bug yet?”

“Oh, yes, the stomach bug.” I glance over my shoulder again as my skin prickles. “I feel much better, thanks. I think it was just a forty-eight-hour thing.”

“Christ, I love those kids, but they’re little germ magnets.”

I laugh, though it sounds forced. “Tell me about it. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Keeping busy.”

“How are the guys down at the station?”

“They’re good, though the new chief is completely useless.”

“Maybe you should take the job.”

My father might have retired five years ago, but he’ll never stop being a cop at heart. He still heads down to his old precinct most days to consult on cases as well as lend a hand when the guys are understaffed.

And sure, he keeps busy with all the volunteering work he does with underprivileged kids, but I’m pretty sure he should just bite the bullet and admit he hates being retired and go back to work full time.

“Don’t tempt me. Where are you anyhow? You sound out of breath.”

“Do I?” I didn’t realize how fast I was walking, but I’m only five minutes from the penthouse, and I’m eager to be back within the safety of its walls. “Just getting my steps in.”

“Good for you. Well, I just wanted to call to see how you’re doing and to remind you to check in with your mother. You girls don’t call her often enough, and you know how she worries.”

“Believe me, I know.”

Dad’s deep rumbling laugh sounds down the phone, and I can’t help but smile.

“Speak soon, kiddo. Stay safe.”

“Will do, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

By the time I hang up the phone, I’m walking past the doorman into the apartment building, and my shoulders sag.

I made it home safe.

Zara isout at Lucia’s place with the twins, and Dimitri is god knows where, so I get a rare afternoon of peace and quiet.

I make the most of it by drawing a bubble bath and soaking for over an hour while I catch up on some of my trashy reality shows on the TV that is built into the wall in the bathroom.

I swear, Dimitri thought of everything when he renovated this place.

By the time I emerge, I find Zara downstairs in the kitchen making dinner.

“Smells good. What are you making?”

Zara grins. “Gran’s famous chicken curry.”

She’s wearing a cute, pink, striped apron that somehow matches her pink sweat set.

“That’s my favorite!”

“I know, that’s why I’m making it.”

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