Page 65 of Bound in Promise
He’s right, I am proud.
But it still may not have been enough.
I eye Angelo head to toe and tell myself there’s no guarantee he could even get it up, let alone have the energy to do anything about it if he did get hard.
Don’t think about it.
“Let me see,” I growl.
Angelo cocks an eyebrow, his tone skeptical, “See what?”
My lips curl into a shitty smirk. I might not have been able to keep a girl safe, but at least I didn’t get my ass kicked by one. “If I know my wife, Lombardi, she left a mark.”
“Why would I bother to show you anything?”
“Then it didn’t happen.”
His nostrils flare, but he turns his head, showing me a glimpse of the back of his skull. There’s a sizeable lump but the full extent of his injury is hidden by his hair. “Did you want to touch it, too?”
“No,” I decide. I may not know what he did to her, but at least I know she made sure he had something to remember her by. “Just remember how easy she went on you, Lombardi, when I get a hold of you.”
“That’s the problem, Dante. You fuck around and I’ll kill you without hesitation. You die and she continues living her life elsewhere. Make the right choice.”
I part my lips, ready to offer my own piece of wisdom, but a not-too-distant boom interrupts me before I can say a word.
Angelo snaps to attention then, focusing immediately on the windows as his men inch closer to offer protection. “What the hell was that?” No one answers him, since obviously we’re just as clueless as he is, having been in this basement with him. “Move.”
All three men exit in a tight grouping, leaving me to stew on what’s just happened—what Angelo revealed—when a dark figure appears at the corner of my eye not a moment later.
I straighten my spine on instinct, blinking a few times before my brain registers the familiar face. A wave of relief washes over me, but I fight the urge to relax.
“What the fuck?” I exclaim, watching Enzo striding confidently toward me. He’s dressed in all black: jeans, a sweatshirt, and even a ski mask that’s rolled up to his forehead. “Took you long enough.”
He quirks an eyebrow, his grin roguish. “Dante, I thought I told you to stop getting yourself into sad and lonely situations.” He rounds my chair and begins working on the zip ties.
“I’m not in Italy anymore.”
“Which means you shouldn’t have gotten into shit in the first place, yeah?”
I scowl at empty air since the bastard’s behind me. Annoyingly, he’s not wrong. “Shit got complicated.”
“You got married.”
I feel one of my arms sway, finally free, and I flex my fingers while the blood rockets through my veins. “Yeah, well… Thought I’d mix things up.”
“Didn’t you learn anything from the last time you fucked a married woman?”
“This isn’t the same, asshole.”
“She is a woman, right?”
Before I can make a retort, my other hand is freed and I’m dragged to my feet. I nearly crash to the floor, but Enzo’s hands come under my elbows and steady me.
Sandy brown hair and blue eyes, my old friend stares back at me, unimpressed by my situation. Then he jerks his head toward the door. “Shall we?”
“Where’s Victoria?”
“Safe.”
