Page 31 of Bound in Promise
I wish I could follow her.
I wish that she could go back to living her life and following her dreams, but things will never be that simple again.
This girl’s whole world has been shattered and torn apart, and I don’t think she fully realizes that.
Thronewood University will never be her home again. And she won’t be going back to Graham to finish her culinary program, either. I can’t have her out in the world without me—there are still too many chess pieces on the board.
But I’m the rook that’s going to slice through them all.
11
VICTORIA
Monday, September 30, 12:30 PM
Dante has been holed up in his new study all day with no signs of life, and every sign pointing to something being wrong.
He barely said a word the entire drive back to Connecticut. We left without seeing Liam again. I know Dante hasn’t hurt him though, considering he’s been by my side ever since he found me in Rochester.
I want to believe he let Liam live because he realized he couldn’t off his own nephew, but I know he did it for me.
And he’s pissed about it.
After we got back to Connecticut, Dante made a few calls, packed up the little we had at the apartment, and then moved us into a furnished house. I don’t know whose it is. I’ve been afraid to ask questions with Dante’s dark mood hanging in the air like a storm cloud, so I’ve kept quiet, only slipping into his office to feed him at regular intervals.
Sometimes, he kisses my forehead. Other times, he’s deep in his phone or computer and doesn’t seem to realize I’m there.
I leave him to his thoughts, hoping he doesn’t get too lost in them. Occasionally, I hear the soft sounds of his violin through the doors, and I know he’s working through some problem in his mind while he plays. He always finds his way to bed with me, pulls me into his hard frame, and falls asleep beside me.
So, to keep my sanity somewhat intact—because one of us has to hold tight to reality—I’ve emailed all my Thronewood professors and told them that I had another emergency come up and the online classes aren’t manageable for me right now. I’ve officially filed a leave of absence with the registrar’s office.
Unfortunately, I’ve had to do the same for my culinary program at Graham. There’s no way to translate those classes to a virtual format, and while it hurt my heart to make the request, I’m trying to see it as a speedbump rather than a brick wall. So to keep myself busy, to feel like I’m making actual progress towards my post-mob shit goals, I’m working through some recipes and techniques I’ve had my eye on for a while. Might as well make use of the sprawling kitchen at my disposal while I can.
However, I can’t focus.
Not when Dante’s shut down and silent.
I’m in the middle of fixing a frittata for Dante when the front door bursts open. A hysterical scream leaves my chest when the wood panel slams into the wall.
Two burly men dressed in black tracksuits barrel inward, and I launch Dante’s lunch at one of them, hitting him in the chest with piping hot eggs and cheese. I’m ready to turn and run for cover, but I freeze at the sight of a third person entering behind them.
Liam.
He’s wearing blue jeans and a Thronewood University hoodie. His dark eyes are filled with a level of animosity that makes my heart shrivel when we lock eyes. The hairs on my arms lift in warning.
Round three.
This is what Dante wanted to prevent.
You’re so stupid, Liam. Why can’t you just stay away?
I’m ready to shout at him to get the hell out when the door to Dante’s office swings open. My husband stands in the open doorway, a gun aimed at the intruders in the foyer. They stop moving, but don’t seem concerned enough about the threat my husband poses.
Then a round man in a crisp black suit struts in like he owns the place.
Does he own this place? Did Dante make us squatters and get us into even more trouble?
Who the hell enters their own front door like that, Victoria?
