Page 35 of Filthy Promises

“Not really,” I mumble. “He’s pretty… focused on business.”

“And is he single?” Mom’s eyes twinkle mischievously.

“Mom!”

“What? I’m just asking for a friend. That friend being me.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, he’s single. No, he’s not interested in me. Yes, there’s a waiting list of supermodels and heiresses lined up to change that. No, I’m not on the list.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, sweetie. You’re beautiful and smart and?—”

“And his employee.” I pat her hand. “Let’s not get carried away.”

She sighs dramatically. “Fine. But promise me you’ll wear something other than those baggy pantsuits to work.”

“I wore a green dress yesterday,” I admit.

Mom’s face lights up. “The emerald one? From Christmas?”

I nod.

“And? Did he notice?”

I think of Vince’s parting words.That dress suits you. Green is your color.

My cheeks flush. “Maybe.”

“Ha! I knew it.” She looks way too pleased with herself. “Men might be complicated, but they’re also simple creatures. Show a little effort and they notice.”

“Can we please talk about something else? Anything else?” I beg. “How’s your new roommate?”

Mom rolls her eyes. “She watches game shows at full volume until midnight. But her granddaughter brings homemade cookies, so I tolerate her.”

“Very generous of you.”

We chat for another hour about normal, safe topics. Her doctors. My apartment. The nurse who Mom swears is stealing her pudding cups.

Not once do I mention my growing suspicion that I’m working for the Russian mafia.

Not once do I tell her about the overheard call.

Not once do I confess that, despite all the red flags, despite all the danger signs, I still can’t stop thinking about how it felt when Vince’s eyes lingered on me in that green dress.

Some things mothers don’t need to know.

When visiting hours end, I promise to return in a few days. I kiss her cheek and hug her carefully, mindful of the IV lines.

“Row?” she calls as I reach the door.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful, okay?” Her expression is serious. “I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me about this job.”

My heart stutters. “Mom?—”

“You don’t have to tell me. But whatever it is, be careful. I need you in one piece.”

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

---