Page 2 of Reckless Promises

I press my palm flat to my stomach and take a deep breath. “It’ll be okay.”

I’m not sure if I’m saying it for Genevieve’s sake or mine, but I hope we both believe it long enough to get through this.

The truth is that nothing will be okay now. My dreams, my future. Dad lit those up in flames with one handshake.

Once more turning to my sister, I accept that fate.

“Gen, focus on me.” I reach for her hands, lacing our fingers together.

Tears pool in her lashes before a rogue stream runs down her rosy cheek.

She looks younger tonight with her hair tied up in a ponytail, secured by a pink ribbon. Her dress is the same color, indicating she’s off-limits, so they won’t mistake her for one of us and put her up on stage.

A dark curl falls from Gen’s ponytail and frames her face.

“I need you to stay focused. Promise me.” I squeeze her hands. “Study, keep your head down, don’t draw Dad’s attention, and don’t think about me until I contact you.”

“But—”

“No, Gen.” I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. I have a plan. We’ll get out of this. Promise me you’ll do what I ask.”

She nods, swallowing as she bites back her tears. “Promise.”

I squeeze her hands a final time, and she pulls me into her arms. Her body shivers with the sobs she’s trying to hold in. Even if I hope I will figure this out before things get worse—and even if she believes I can—we both know sacrifices are about to be made to make that happen.

Fire burns behind my eyes, and when I swallow, it feels like trying to down lead. But I hold it in. I bite back my tears and refuse to let it show for Gen’s sake.

“Genevieve Bardot, you’re going to mess up your sister’s hair.” Mom pulls us apart, disregarding my sister to fluff my dark waves. “Look at this mess.”

Mom runs her fingers through the strands, laying them in front of one shoulder, before straightening my pearl necklace.

“It’s fine, Mom.” I brush her off.

It doesn’t matter anyway. I could walk onstage in sweatpants, and it wouldn’t change the fact that Sascha Rochefort will pay any price to be my husband.

“There.” Mom steps back to look at me.

The wrinkles on her forehead deepen with whatever she’s thinking, and it draws out the sadness that’s been settling in her eyes this past week. She doesn’t agree with what my father is doing any more than me, but neither of us has a choice. My father isn’t the kind of man you speakout against. His body count is worse than Sascha’s, and his patience doesn’t extend to his family.

When Mom tried to reason with him and convince him there had to be another way to pay back his debts, he beat her screams to silence, while Gen cried in my arms. And I closed my eyes imagining I was anywhere else. Because there has to be something better than this. I refuse to believe there isn’t.

Mom didn’t speak for three days after Dad made his decision. She barely left her room. But when she did, there was no hint of what he’d done. Years of being his wife has made her a professional at covering bruises and hiding emotional scars.

She’s a statute of an example for me and my sister, and with all he’s done, I’ve still never seen her break.

But each time her eyes dim a bit more. Cool detachment lingers. She slowly starts to drift away.

Gen sniffles and Mom frowns at her.

“Go take a seat, Genevieve.” She tips her head to the audience. “Your sister needs you right now. Stop crying and be supportive.”

Supportive.

What I need is an out when there isn’t one.

Genevieve glances at me, but even if I want her to stay, it’s for the best she doesn’t. This is only going to get uglier the second I walk out on that stage.

“Go.” I force a smile to try and ease her worry. “I’ll be fine, promise. And I need you out there so I have something happy to focus on.”

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