Page 75 of Bound in Promise
My cell buzzes again and I hesitate to look at the screen, but I finally give in, relieved to find a new message from Ellie.
I can stay with you and keep you company. Just tell me where and I’ll pack a bag.
I’d say you don’t have to do that, but… It’s been ages.
I know. I miss you <3
I miss you, too.
We’ll talk when you’re ready. And then we’ll keep it moving. #ChicksB4Dicks
LOL, love you.
“Miss, I need to stop for gas,” my driver, Patrick, interrupts as I snort at my friend’s ridiculous hashtag. “If you need the restroom or some snacks, now would be the time.”
“Thanks,” I say with a nod. “Anything I can get you?”
“If you wouldn’t mind grabbing me a Diet Coke, I’d appreciate it.”
“You got it.”
A few minutes later, he pulls into a gas station and stops at a pump. I go inside the convenience store to grab his drink, debating whether I want something to sip on. As I contemplate the options in the cooler, a wave of uneasiness falls over me and I shift in place, looking for the source of the ominous feeling.
The hairs on the back of my neck lift in warning and I start to spin on my heels, but someone shoves me from behind, trapping me against the cool glass of the cooler doors.
I freeze, knowing all too well the weight of the body pressing against me.
“I warned you, princess. You owe me, making me hunt you down, in the middle of the fucking night, no less. I’m here to collect, wife.”
There’s no way.
I wedge my hands against the glass and push back, getting the leverage I need to turn and face my husband. I stare up at Dante, his dark eyes narrowed in a deadly scowl.
He looks equal parts relieved and pissed. Squeezing the bottle of Diet Coke tighter, I try to think about how best to deal with this complication. How can I get to Ellie and get back to living life on my terms?
“Oh, it’s the middle of the night, is it? Getting old?” I let false concern drip from words. My husband’s only response is a growl.
“Dante…I’m not going back with you.” My voice trembles, the words coming out weaker than I had hoped. All I can do is pray he respects my decision, my autonomy, and leaves me be. “If we’re really getting divorced?—”
“Right now, you’re getting in my car,” he declares, his words offering no room for compromise. It’s hard not to be mad at him for sounding so much stronger than me. “And then I’m taking you?—”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I snap, letting my temper rise to carry me through this conversation. Without the fury, I don’t know that I could face him down like this, not when I know he doesn’t want me. “You’re not the boss of me. You don’t get to call me your wife when you’re planning our divorce. You don’t want me anymore. That means I get to decide what I do. My choices don’t belong to you.”
“You’re still mine for now,” he replies, crowding back into my space. The chill of the coolers is creeping through my shirt and I can feel my skin prickling in protest. “So you’re leaving with me. You can walk to my car or I can carry you. Your choice, princess. But you are getting in that car.”
I shift to the side, trying to slide away from him. “I said—” Dante strikes as quickly as a snake, tossing me over his shoulder and marching towards the door of the convenience store. He’s not gentle, and my head bounces off his back, knocking into a chip display as he rounds one of the endcaps.
Refusing to just give up, I slam my fist into the base of his spine and drum my feet against his front. “Dante, put me down. I said no.”
“Lover’s quarrel,” my husband calls to the clerk as he pushes through the door. “She won’t come home.”
“I said to let me go,” I fume, wiggling and continuing to pummel every part of him I can reach. “You can’t make me go to Paris. I’m not jumping on a plane alone?—”
“I’ll send Ellie out as soon as I can.”
That doesn’t even begin to make things right. I don’t have a warm and fuzzy feeling about my impending exile. Not when Paris was supposed to be a happy adventure with my best friend—basically my sister—before my dreams shifted and I began to imagine a romantic fairy tale with my husband.
Dante is taking my dream and shitting on it.
