Page 32 of Bound in Promise
“Dante Moretti,” the chubby, middle-aged man greets, adjusting a chunky gold watch along his wrist. “Where have you been?”
My husband doesn’t answer, but he does train his weapon on the man’s head. His target doesn’t seem the least bit interested in his actions. Ballsy for an uninvited guest.
“Put the gun down,” he instructs calmly. “No need to make things messy.”
“Things tend to get messy when someone walks into my house without bothering to knock.”
The suited man hums, either in indifference or agreement. “Well, now that you know it’s me, drop it. Introduce me to the pretty girl in the room.”
Dante glowers at him and ignores the order. “You know who she is.”
The man smirks, but it’s edged with cruelty rather than humor. This isn’t a kind man. Dante obviously doesn’t want him here, and this man is enjoying taunting him.
Then he directs his attention to me, and I feel like a rabbit being hunted by a wolf.
“Victoria Waldorf,” he muses, folding his hands in front of him. “I’ve heard a lot about you, bella. All these men trying to woo you for your money so they can pay me back.”
My nose scrunches in distaste.
So this is Angelo Lombardi.
The man behind all of this. Liam’s desperation and his reckless ideas, my kidnapping, my marriage to a man who’s looked through me rather than at me since saving me from said kidnapping… Not to mention, he’s the reason I can’t go to my college classes right now. I can’t even see Ellie, since the last thing I want to do is put her in danger by getting too close right now.
“How has Dante been treating you?”
I want to tell Angelo to go fuck himself, but I’m not stupid. I don’t want Dante to risk his life because I couldn’t resist lashing out, so I clench my teeth together and put on the sort of bemused expression my mother would be proud of.
“Well,” I deadpan, leaving the word hanging in the air.
However, Angelo is the sort of man who likes to flaunt his power and play with his prey. You don’t need to be a psychologist to see that Dante doesn’t want him here, but Angelo doesn’t seem to care. He acts like he’s in control—and maybe he is. After all, we are being held responsible for a debt that’s not even our own.
“That’s good,” Angelo replies, but his voice is disinterested. Clearly, this isn’t a social call. “I heard you took a trip recently.”
I stop myself from looking at my ex and trying to read his expression. He never had much of a poker face. But I don’t want to look guilty. And I don’t have any idea what’s really going on.
“Say what you came here to say, Lombardi,” Dante orders. “What’s wrong with leaving town?”
“It’s suspicious,” the older man replies, keeping his focus on me. “So, I’ll ask the girl—where did you go?”
No.
I was never supposed to meet this man. Dante and I never talked about what I’d need to say or not say if the situation came up. I have no idea what story Liam’s cobbled together, what Angelo’s already been told or what he might know. I’m not built for this kind of lifestyle. Dante’s armed presence no longer feels like a shield wrapped around me, but instead something that makes us look like Angelo just said: suspicious.
“We haven’t been properly introduced,” I manage to force from my lips, lifting my chin and pulling another page out of my mother’s handbook on prim and proper socialite behavior. “And you made me drop our lunch.” I make sure my tone is that of someone who has been inconvenienced, rather than personally terrified.
Angelo glances down, locating the scattered remnants of the ruined frittata, and frowns. For some reason, the loss of the food seems to give him pause, and his face turns apologetic as he returns his attention to me.
“I apologize, bella,” he concedes. “We won’t be here long. My men can clean it up?—”
“That’s not necessary,” I cut in, before immediately cringing inwardly. Did I seriously just interrupt a mob boss? “But decorum is extremely important, Mr. Lombardi. Your men will give a woman a heart attack behaving in such a way. There could’ve been children in this house.”
“You’re pregnant?” My brows clash together because what? Angelo picks up on my displeasure—does he know the terms of my trust or did he really just ask something unforgivably personal—and he backpedals, much to my shock. “It’ll never happen again. Still, there are rules that must be obeyed, as the men already know.”
“Such as?”
Victoria, shut up.
“No leaving town, for instance. I’m owed a large sum of money, as you well know.”
