Destiny Mine (Tormentor Mine #3)(72)

“Good, I’m glad.” There’s more clanging in the background as Peter says, “I’ll see you home in a couple of minutes, ptichka. Love you.”

Love you too. The words are on the tip of my tongue, yet I find myself saying, “See you soon,” as I hang up the phone. I’m sure Peter knows how I feel—he’s been convinced we belong together from the beginning—but because I’ve never said the words before, it feels wrong to casually blurt them out.

I do love him, though. I can finally admit it to myself, even though nothing’s really changed. He’s still a killer, still a monster any sane woman would fear and loathe. But I’m no longer sane, because I love him and I’m about to marry him.

Of my own free will, I’m about to join my life with a man who once tortured and stalked me. Who, technically, still stalks me—if always having me followed fits that definition.

“We’re here,” Danny says in a gravelly voice, and I look out the window, startled to realize that we’re already parked by my building—and that the stone-faced driver actually spoke to me.

“Thank you,” I tell him, grabbing my bag, and Danny gives me the slightest of nods as I climb out of the car.

Wow. Progress.

I was just acknowledged by my driver/bodyguard.

The giddiness I’d all but banished returns—at least until I see my parents’ car pulling into the parking lot on the other side.

They’re early.

A full twenty minutes early.

Frantically, I redial Peter.

“They’re here,” I say breathlessly as he picks up. “My parents—they’re already here.”

“That’s good,” he says, unruffled. “The food is almost ready. See you in a minute.”

“Okay, yeah.” I hang up and stuff my phone back into the bag. I start to slide the ring off my finger to leave it in the bag as well, but change my mind.

There’s no point in hiding anything when they’ll meet Peter in a minute.

Taking a deep breath, I approach my parents’ car. “Hey, Mom, Dad.”

“Oh, hi, darling.” Mom opens the door and climbs out with only minimal stiffness. “Are you just coming home from work? Sorry we’re a bit early; your dad thought there might be traffic, so he made me leave with lots of time to spare.”

“There was supposed to be traffic, according to the GPS,” Dad corrects and comes around the car to give me a hug.

I hug him back and then kiss Mom on the cheek. “It’s all good. Dinner is almost ready.”

Mom grins. “It’s not takeout?”

“No, afraid not. The man I want you to meet—he’s cooking.” I look back to see Danny sitting inside the black car, silently guarding us, then turn back to face my parents. “There’s something I have to tell you,” I say carefully.

“What is it, darling?” Mom reaches out to touch my left hand, and her fingers brush against my ring. Instantly, her gaze hones in on the diamond, and her eyes widen to the size of quarters. “Sara, is that—”

“I was just about to get to that,” I say as my dad freezes, staring at my left ring finger in disbelief. “I have some really good news.”

“You’re engaged?” Mom tears her gaze away from the shiny rock to gape at me. “How? To whom? You weren’t even—”

“Mom, Dad.” I take each of their hands in one of mine. “Please listen to me and try to remain calm.” They stay frozen, staring at me deer-like as I say steadily, “Peter, the man I love, is back. He’s finally succeeded in resolving his misunderstanding with the authorities, and he’s no longer wanted for questioning. We can finally be together—and yes, we just got engaged.”





56





Peter



I look out the window again, where Sara is talking to her parents in the parking lot. They’ve been at it for a solid eight minutes, and I wish I had a listening device on Sara so I could hear what they’re saying.

Judging by the wild gesticulating by all three, emotions are running high.

Maybe I should plant a bug with listening capabilities on Sara. Maybe even a few—one in her phone, one in her bag, and another couple in her favorite footwear. I already track her phone, so I know where she is at all times, but this would give me an additional peace of mind.

The table is all set, but I hold off on putting out the food. Finally, the Sara-tracking app on my phone informs me that her phone is in the building and approaching the apartment, so I walk over to open the door for her and her parents.

“Mom, Dad, this is Peter,” she says as the elderly couple come in behind her and stop, eying me warily. “As I explained, he’s made a clean break with his old connections and now goes by the name of Peter Garin. Peter, these are my parents, Lorna and Chuck Weisman.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” I say and extend my hand for Sara’s father to shake.

“Likewise.” Despite the polite response, Chuck’s voice is as hard as his grip, and his faded blue eyes are sharp as he glowers at me.

I shake Lorna’s hand next, being careful not to crush her fragile fingers.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Mr. Garin,” she says softly, looking up at me, and I smile, seeing shades of Sara in the elegant lines of her aged face.