Read Online Didn't You Promise (A Bad for You Novel) by Amber Bardan - Free Book Online Page B

brought us together should be the one putting this strain on us. I opened the car door and followed him into the house. I found him in the bedroom, setting out clean clothes to change into.
    “There’s a full complement of staff in the quarters out back if you need anything.” He tugged off his shirt. “I told them to give you privacy but they’ll check in on you occasionally.” He undid his belt. It followed his shirt to the floor. “You’ll be safe here.”
    “I know,” I said and crawled onto the bed. Ran my gaze over his abs as his pants came down. Warmth curled in my abdomen.
    I didn’t launch myself at him the way I normally would. The heavy empty feeling in the pit of my stomach overrode all else. He put on clean pants, and a shirt, then pulled something from his bag and laid it on the edge of the bed for me without a word.
    An envelope .
    My pulse quickened. I’d developed an aversion to envelopes—their contents rarely went in my favor.
    He fastened the button on his sleeve.
    I leaned across the bed and took the envelope, tore open the top, and reached inside. My fingers closed around a small piece of plastic. I slid it out, sitting up on the bed.
    “What the hell is this?”
    I stared at the license in my hand. My license . The one with my actual name on it. The name of the girl half the globe was searching for. I shouldn’t have this thing near me let alone on my person.
    I shook out the envelope. A small blue pill tumbled onto the bedspread.
    My stomach twisted.
    “That’s Plan D.” He looped a solid red tie at his neck, then pulled the end down through the loop.
    “We don’t need Plan D. I’ll let you go off now on your own, if that makes it easier for you.” I swung my legs off the bed, then slammed the license and the pill on the bedside table. “But then you’re damn well coming back to get me.”
    He didn’t answer, just pulled the knot tight at his throat.
    An acrid bitterness stung the back of my mouth. “I won’t do it, Haithem.”
    He raised his gaze to mine, and flipped down his collar. “Won’t do what?”
    “I won’t give up.” I swallowed, eyes burning. “Plan D is giving up. I won’t do any of it.”
    He smoothed the tie and stepped towards me. My heart flipped over. And there he was—the Haithem I’d first met—the shark. The man with no rules other than to win. He advanced on me now, that look in his eye. It seemed like so long since I’d seen this him.
    Or maybe I’d thought he’d gone—vanquished by love.
    “Yes, you will,” he said.
    “No, I won’t.” I spoke between my teeth.
    He reached for me, hooked his fingers over my shoulders, and looked deep down into my face. “You will.”
    “I can’t,” I said. My eyes stung. “If there’s no me and you, then everything has been for nothing .”
    “There will always be a me and you.” He gripped the back of my neck. “That’s why if the worst happens you need to leave me behind and protect yourself.”
    Wetness rolled down to my lips.
    “I won’t.” I grabbed his shirt. “I’ll do anything but not that.”
    “You will.” He wiped my cheeks, and he brought his nose to mine. “You know how I know you will?”
    I shook my head, the tip of my nose dragging on his.
    “Because I know you,” he whispered. “I know how strong you are.” His breath brushed my lips. I breathed the air from his lungs. “I know I can trust you—” his fingers moved up my scalp behind my ears, tilted my face deeper to his “—that when the moment comes you will do whatever must be done—no matter how hard.”
    His words melted from his mouth to mine, and I felt my lips, disembodied— agreeing . I heard whispered, crying, yeses and I will’s.
    “Remember when you told me you were indestructible?”
    A moment of pain sharper than the rest cut through the haze of him saying goodbye. I blinked and jerked back. He held me tighter, stiller—stared at me. That ugly memory pounded in the back of my head. Perhaps