Page 63 of Bound in Promise

At this point, I’m the only person who cares enough to save my wife from the nightmare she’s likely about to walk into.

But if I get too in my head imagining her fate, I’m going to lose focus. If I permit my temper to get the best of me, she’s gone.

I’m gone.

And that means a shallow grave for me and no chance of anyone ever rescuing Victoria.

Not even my stupid-ass nephew. Not now that he’s dead and buried in suburbia.

Out of my peripheral, a guard moves and I already know who’s striding in without even looking.

There aren’t many options. Plus, Angelo’s new favorite hobby is taunting the living fuck out of me.

It must make his dick hard.

Regardless, I keep my chin tucked into my chest and wait to see what bullshit he’s going to spew to rile me up this time. What stories will he tell, what threats will he make to try and convince me to submit to him?

I know he’s never going to hand over Victoria. He’ll never give me any intel so I can get her back.

That’s the truth. There’s no fairy tale ending to be had here.

“I see you’re still conscious,” Angelo drawls. “You must’ve been a good boy for my men.”

Go fuck yourself.

Even if I did throw a fit of epic proportions, I’m not getting anywhere with my ass bound to this damn chair.

“Victoria will be leaving the premises shortly. I just thought you should know?—”

“I want to see her,” I demand, concentrating on a dark sliver of wood. “Now.”

Angelo chuckles, obviously amused. We both know how this game works.

He’s never going to allow me peace. I’m never going to follow his orders.

This only ends when one of us is dead.

And it looks like I might be the one dying first.

“I can’t allow that,” Angelo says, finally stopping in front of me so that I’m forced to look up at him. A slice of moonlight from the window illuminates his features. Something about him looks slightly off, not his normally pristine too sure of himself assholeness and maybe a bruise or two… And that’s when I notice a dark, matted stain at the base of his skull.

The fuck happened to?—

Victoria.

“We don’t need you making a scene and scaring her new man off.” He grins at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s no way in hell I’m not wreaking havoc on his bitch ass. He can’t cage me like an animal forever. “You might want to rethink whatever plan you’re imagining, Dante. I did say I could get your wife back if you behave.”

I ignore him, knowing it’s just another one of his lies. Honestly, I’m not sure why we’re beating around the bush here. We might both be monsters, but we’re different. I don’t like playing with my food. I ran with one of the most powerful mafias in Italy. Angelo has either underestimated my intelligence or convinced himself that I’ve forgotten how to spot a liar in my time away from the Giordanos.

“And I’m supposed to believe you because…”

Angelo shrugs. “I’m a man of my word.”

“Are you now?” I challenge. What a line. “Because I remember us talking about paying you with money from my wife’s trust. Not money from selling off my wife.”

The douchebag waves a dismissive hand in the air. I’m going to enjoy breaking that hand. “You never gave me much detail on those arrangements, did you? No real schedule of payment, correct? I can’t be held at fault for choosing a more expedient means of collecting what’s mine.”

I exhale slowly, fighting to keep my composure. Losing my shit won’t get us anywhere.