Page 86 of Bound in Promise

In fact, her words only make me more eager to leave the country as soon as I can manage it.

“Thanks for stopping by,” I say dismissively, gesturing to the door. “I’ll get the check. Try not to shrivel into dust in the sun.”

She scowls at me before rising from the booth, snapping her leather handbag over her shoulder. Each click of her heels against the linoleum floors is a promise that she’ll never change. She’ll never understand me. Never love me. She will always be the most hateful, spiteful woman I’ve ever known.

I’m grateful that despite our biological connection, I was blessed with enough sense to become something more than a carbon copy of her.

My mother’s startled oomph draws my attention away from the spoon I’m swirling through the dregs of my coffee and back to her.

Well, back to where Dante is looming in the doorway of the diner, blocking her exit.

He’s staring down his nose at her, as if she’s the biggest piece of shit he’s ever smelled. His eyes are empty of all emotion and he’s eerily still.

My husband must have heard something.

Probably at least part of our little tiff.

Or maybe he’s just pissed that she’s here, talking to me in the first place, when he knows she must have ambushed me. I would have told him if I’d planned on speaking to her today. He probably would have told me not to bother.

All in all, my mother has met her match.

“Mrs. Waldorf,” Dante grinds out flatly. “Are you lost?”

My mouth curves into a smile and I quickly close a hand over my lips in case she looks to me for help.

Although I don’t know why she would. It’s not as though she deserves any support from me.

“You’re Mr. Moretti,” my mother announces stupidly.

“Last time I checked.” His gaze flicks up and over my mother’s head, seeking me out. I know he’s studying my face for any hint as to how I’m feeling. Whether she’s managed to upset me.

I’m fine. More than.

I shrug in an attempt to assure him there’s nothing to worry about.

“Why does my wife have a red handprint on her cheek?” Dante’s eyes recenter on Mother Dearest. “Do you want to die?”

Oh shit.

Stepping forward, my mother squares up with Dante and it’s clear she thinks she’s ready to go to war with the devil.

But she doesn’t know who my husband is. Not really. She thinks he makes pretty music and lectures college students. She has no idea he belonged to an infamous Italian mob. Has no idea that he’s killed for me.

That he loves me.

“Mother, you were just leaving,” I remind her. “There’s no need to cause a scene.”

“How dare you interfere with my daughter’s engagement. Her engagement to your nephew, no less,” she scolds, ignoring me entirely.

“You obviously don’t know how to read a room,” Dante replies. “That or you just don’t give a shit about what happens to your daughter.” He sneers the last word, making it obvious he doesn’t think she has any right to call herself my mother.

“Victoria knew what was expected of her. What was best for her.”

“So I guess a would-be rapist is what you wanted for her? The kid who tried to rape her was the best partner she could have?”

Dante…

I pluck a handful of cash from my purse and throw it on the table before quickly moving to stand between Dante and my mother. I shift my body, creating enough space that my mother can step through the door and be on her merry way.