Page 74 of Bound in Debt
“You would if you had to,” Dante states firmly. “That would be part of the plan.”
“Plans change.”
Dante’s eyes narrow and I can see his steely determination. “Mine don’t. You will have a way to escape before I move on Lombardi. There will be no choice but to execute it. You will do as I say. Do you understand me?”
No.
But this mob shit isn’t my area of expertise. I don’t know the first thing about how to save this man from this godawful mess—or himself.
“I need you to say the words princess,” Dante bears down, seemingly reading my mind. “You’re not going on any rescue missions.”
“You did.”
“I’m me. Once upon a time, this was my whole world. I know how to survive it.”
“I don’t agree with your plan,” I retort softly. “Mine is for both of us to go to Paris.”
“I don’t want to go to Paris.”
“You just told me earlier that we?—”
“That’s to get you set up,” Dante asserts. “To make sure that you’re?—”
“Hell no,” I argue. I thought we were a team, partners, not a one-man show. “We’re in this together.”
“If Angelo is dead and you’re out of danger, that’s it. We’re done.”
My chest deflates and I don’t even understand why. Dante is like no one else I’ve ever known, and for some reason he draws me to him like a moth to a flame. He took hold of my life, wrapped it up tightly in his hands, and now he’s working to save not just my life, but my dream. But he barely knows me and he definitely can’t stand me. He can’t wait to be rid of me.
I shouldn’t be all that surprised.
Something is broken in me. Flawed. It’s too easy for everyone I meet to dismiss me or throw me away. The only time I’m the focus of attention is when someone sees a way to use me for their own gain. Although that’s not an accurate description of Dante’s game, it doesn’t make the pattern hurt any less.
I bob my head in reluctant acceptance because the lump in my throat won’t let me speak. My feelings don’t matter—the mission is still the same.
Get out alive and live your life freely.
“Why do you look like your puppy just died, princess?” Dante mutters softly, only adding to the morbid irritation and sadness weighing on my chest. “This is what we both wanted.”
“Will you promise to be safe? I don’t want to have to live with your death on my conscience.”
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest and he nods. “I can do that.’
“Promise it.”
“I promise.”
“Mean it,” I chide lightly. “You seem like the kind of guy who ignores orders and does whatever he wants.”
“Normally, I do. I don’t have to answer to anyone else.”
“I’m your wife,” I remind him. It’s my turn to pull the same card he enjoys using whenever I disagree with what he says. “Even after we divorce and you find another bride, I will always be your first one.”
“My only one,” he replies instantly. “We’ll let you keep the title, princess.”
“That’s depressing. You should live a life with someone that you love.”
“That doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest.”
