Page 101 of Bound in Debt
It’s been about a week since Liam tried to attack me in my dorm, and I haven’t seen his face since.
I guess he got the hint.
It was a hassle to switch to e-learning after the start of the semester at Thronewood, but the peace of mind is worth it. And Ellie’s been surprisingly accepting of the change in my living arrangements. I’m grateful. I don’t think I’d be able to sleep if I had to return to our dorm. And I can’t say I don’t enjoy lying in bed next to Dante. Especially when he gathers me up in his arms and pulls me into his chest.
And holds me there.
Most of the time, he’s asleep when he reaches for me.
But sometimes I hear him sigh as he rests his chin on the top of my head. It’s obvious he’s conflicted, that he has all sorts of things on his mind, and I hope I’m not the reason I never see him relax.
Shifting in the driver’s seat of the car, exhausted from a long decorating workshop at Graham, I know I could fall asleep with my head on the steering wheel. I need a nap. Instead, I need to get to Dante’s place and get to work. I have a lot to do before I can study, much less sleep. I’m always trying to keep the apartment tidy and the fridge stocked. Keeping up with Dante’s laundry—the weirdest wifely duty I’ve done so far—and cooking dinner for him helps me feel like I’m doing something to thank him for all he’s doing for me. Usually, he doesn’t come home until I’ve finished my self-assigned chores.
I’m not sure where he goes or what he gets up to during the day and I’m too much of a wimp to ask. I have faith that he’s setting things into motion, making moves while I continue my education, biding his time until he’s ready to make the move.
We’re running out of time, but the money still hasn’t been released to my account. Sooner or later, something has to give.
Lifting my keys, I’m all set to put them in the ignition and start the car when something cold and hard presses into the back of my skull. I freeze, barely breathing.
I’m not ready to die, but suddenly the end of my life is too close for comfort.
“Hey, Vee. Where ya headin’?”
“Liam,” I whisper, my mouth dry and my heart in my throat. “What are you doing here?” And where in the world did you get a damn gun?
“Well,” he says nonchalantly. “I’m done fuckin’ around. I’m tired of your shit. We’re gonna do things my way now.”
“Your way,” I repeat, clenching my hands into fists around the steering wheel. I’ve never known fear like I do right now. I focus on the white Malibu parked in the row in front of me, some sort of pink ornament dangling from the rearview mirror. “I don’t know what that means.”
“We’re leaving.”
No.
I’m not going anywhere with this psycho. However, there’s no clear or safe way out of this car, away from his gun.
“You hungry?” I ask stupidly, feigning innocence as I try to connect this moment to something familiar to both of us. We spent dozens of afternoons grabbing food to fuel our studying. Maybe if I can get him to take me somewhere public, I can find someone to help.
“Nah, we’re goin’ on a little road trip.” I bite back a sharp retort. It wouldn’t be in my best interest to sass Liam, not when he literally has a gun to my head and is clearly drunk. I can smell alcohol on his breath and hear it in his voice. “Gimme your phone.”
Again, no.
“I have a lot of homework,” I say, aiming for an apologetic tone. “And I’ve been cramming for some big tests?—”
“Give me your damn phone, Vee,” Liam sneers, pressing the metal barrel harder against my scalp. “Don’t make me splatter your pretty face across the dash.”
Quickly, I pass my cell phone back to my captor. And now I’ve given up my only lifeline.
“Can we just talk about this?” I implore as gently and calmly as I can. “We don’t need to go for a ride to?—”
“Shut up.”
“But—” He reaches an arm around, slamming my phone into my chest and I snap my mouth closed. He’s well and truly lost his mind now.
“Unlock it. You think I’m a fuckin’ idiot?”
Yes.
Taking me hostage or even killing me won’t help him. Not really. I’m already married, which means my trust fund is out of Liam’s reach for good. I won’t give him a dime.
