Page 62 of Bound in Debt
I lean back and try to get a grip on the whirlwind of questions filling my head. “What did you do to Ellie? Where are we going?”
“Jesus Christ,” Liam mutters. “Can you believe this bitch?” He directs the question to the guy in the passenger seat, causing the man to twist around and giving me a good look at his face.
Chase Gladden.
“Hey, Vee,” Chase chirps, seeming to think I might be happy to see him. “Don’t worry about Ellie. She’s still out partying. We’re gonna go take care of some of those problems for you right now.”
“What problems?” This asshole snitched on me to my ex, the man who definitely isn’t my fiancé. No, that honor belongs to the guy sitting beside me and not saying a word. “The ones that you made?”
“Listen,” he concedes softly, raising both of his palms in defeat. “You came to me and it sounded like you were in trouble. I didn’t want you to deal with it all alone, so I consulted Liam?—”
“Am I not a goddamn adult? Can I not do things independently?”
“It’s not like that. Liam should be in the loop if you’re in trouble. He’s your fiancé, Vee. He should know everything. That’s how relationships go and—” My palm cracks across his face so hard that I hear it before I feel it.
And I barely feel the sting. That’s how pissed I am.
“Are you seriously trying to give me fucking relationship advice right now?” My adrenaline is sky-high and I’m ready to launch myself across the middle console to deliver another blow to this asshole who thinks that having tits means I can’t do anything by myself, but I’m stopped by a heavy arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me back.
“Get a handle on her,” Liam orders with a sneer. “I can’t believe I have to marry this bitch.”
I open my mouth to tell him that he doesn’t need to. That I’d rather he didn’t, actually, but I’m stopped by the feel of a warm, muscled body pressing into my back. Calloused fingers cradle my head.
“Enough, princess,” Dante whispers right above my ear. His thumb gently brushes my neck and his fingers lace through my hair, stroking lightly.
“Get away from me,” I protest, wiggling in his lap and trying to work myself free. His grip on my hair tightens, stopping just short of causing me pain.
“Stay here,” he orders flatly, sounding almost bored. “And don’t give us any trouble tonight.”
If he hadn’t told me he had a plan before Liam got in the vehicle, Dante would be receiving a sharp elbow in the gut as well.
Instead, I sulk against him, scowling at Chase until he finally gets bored of my tantrum and turns to face forward.
I can’t believe I trusted him. His decision to go to Liam proves he’ll rat anyone out at the first sign of trouble.
That won’t be good for his reputation with the student body of Thronewood University. Especially if I end up marrying Liam tonight.
You’re not. Dante said to play along.
“What is going on?” I ask again, because being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night doesn’t seem like the start of a fun little road trip. Not getting any answers is really making me panic. “Why isn’t anyone telling me anything?”
“We’re getting married,” Liam drones, sounding as excited about it as I am. “Your mom is gonna be pissed, but oh well. I couldn’t help myself, just couldn’t wait to tie the knot.”
He’s desperate. Something changed.
“Breathe,” Dante whispers, still running the pads of his fingers through my hair and along my scalp in a soft massage. His tone is relaxed and I feel it in my bones, soothing my anxiety and helping me calm down. “That’s not happening.”
You’re going to marry me, princess…we’re going to do it my way.
That’s what Dante told me hours ago.
I have no choice but to believe that he has something up his sleeve. I just need reassurance. Something I can’t ask for in words—not with Liam and Chase in the car.
I reach my hand down, needing more than just the semi-relaxing movement of his hand on my head to tell me that I’m not marrying Liam Moretti. Not tonight, not ever.
Dante wraps his free hand over the top of mine, twining our fingers together briefly before curling my hand into a fist and covering it with his own. It’s a small thing, but it makes me feel protected.
Dante would never be this gentle with me—a major departure from his usual disdain—unless he was trying to tell me something.
