24. Victoria
24
VICTORIA
Sunday, October 4, 9:40 PM
Fuck him.
If Dante doesn’t care how he’s making me feel or that he just ripped my heart out of my chest, I don’t need him.
He’ll make sure all his bases are covered, right?
I don’t need to worry about anything or be bothered about leaving everything I know behind. After all, my husband only wants to know that I’ll be well out of harm’s way.
I think not.
In fact, I’m not leaving. I’m going to find a way to pay my tuition and finish school here. Ellie and I will figure out the rest after graduation. I don’t need Dante’s help or a ticket for a trans-Atlantic flight. Not when he’s spoiled what I wanted out of life in Europe.
He won’t be there.
The man wants to leave me alone in a new country, a stranger in a strange land, just so he can sleep at night.
He can go fuck himself.
I’m done playing by his rules. I swipe my thumb over the phone Dante so graciously gave me at the hotel and send a text to the one person on Earth I need most.
I should be home in an hour.
ELLIE: How bad is it?
Bad. He’s wants to ditch me in Paris. Alone. No him, no you.
ELLIE: Then you need to lay low for a bit. I’d say you could stay with me, but my apartment is the first place he’ll look for you.
Finally got some money from my trust. I can get a hotel. Somewhere with a spa so I can detox from the chaos.
ELLIE: Sounds like a plan!
A new notification interrupts my text conversation with Ellie and I feel goosebumps on the back of my neck.
DANTE: I know you left, princess.
DANTE: You’re going to pay for making me run you down.
I shiver, and I don’t want to think too much whether the chill is one of fear or anticipation.
I knew I’d hear from him eventually. He kept lightly knocking on the bathroom door, asking if I was okay, while pretended I was busy scrubbing all the mob shit from my skin. Really, I was buying time waiting for my Uber to arrive.
Thankfully, we were on the first floor of the hotel, so for once I didn’t have to risk breaking my neck climbing down anything.
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.
“What the hell?”
Patrick.
Shit, I stole a Diet Coke.
Lifting my head, I see sheer panic on the Uber driver’s face as Dante carries me across the parking lot without even stopping.
“Can you please pay for this soda?” I ask him, playing things off as if this is a common occurrence. Making a scene will only make him a target for my husband’s anger. And Uber definitely doesn’t pay its drivers well enough to cover facing down former hitmen. “I wasn’t able to.”
Dumbly, Patrick plucks the bottle from my grasp and continues to gawk at me like I’ve lost my mind.
I have.
Apparently, I’ve gotten used to the craziness that is life in Dante’s world.
“Let me get rid of him,” I tell my driver. “And we can get going.”
At those words, Dante halts and turns, coming face to face with poor Patrick. He looms over the scrawny driver. “Ride’s over.”
“Um…”
“The ride. Is. Over,” he repeats, venom dripping from his lips. “Cancel the trip and pay the man, Victoria. Don’t forget to tip.”
“We haven’t gotten to my destination,” I argue, squirming again to try and free myself. “Put me down!”
“Either you pay him or I shoot him,” my husband states, his voice disconcertingly level. “I’m good either way.”
For fuck’s sake.
I have no doubt in my mind that Dante means every word. The man doesn’t bluff. And he knows I won’t let anything happen to some innocent guy whose only sin was helping me when I needed a lift home. Not if I can help it.
“Once this neanderthal puts me down, Patrick, I’ll pay for the ride. And I promise, you’re getting a huge tip and a five-star review.”
Dante seems satisfied with that answer because he spins back around and resumes walking.
Great.
Next thing I know, I’m bouncing in the backseat of a black Audi. It looks to be the same one Enzo drove away from the shootout at Angelo’s hell house.
Scowling, I pluck my cell out of my back pocket and open the Uber app. The faster I pay Patrick, the better. He needs to leave for his own safety.
Dante and his friend did just murder dozens of men at a crime boss’s house.
A slap to my ass makes me squeal in surprise as I scramble to the other side of the bench seat and spin around. Dante followed me into the car and is staring me down, a murderous glare on his face.
Shit.
“How dare you carry me around like I’m some unruly child in a store,” I hiss, matching his scowl with my own. “No one asked you to come after me. Hence the lack of a note to go with my escape out the window.”
“I seem to be having problems with you and those things,” Dante snarls. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to bolt the next one shut.”
I sigh.
The two of us can spend all night going at each other in the back of this luxury sedan, or we can compromise.
Before I can spell out a peace offering, however, Dante grips my forearm and yanks me closer, forcing me to straddle his lap.
“How many fucking times, princess?” he growls, staring up into my eyes and gripping my ass hard enough that I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow. “How many times do I need to tell you to do something before you’ll listen?”
I consider my response.
If he would’ve listened to me, if he had even once stopped acting like a martyr, my answer would be simple.
“Why should I listen to you?” I taunt. “This is a breakup, Dante. When you break up with someone, you don’t keep spending time with them. You leave.”
His nostrils flare. “You leave when I say you can leave. It’s still not safe for you to be out on your own.” I roll my eyes, and his fingers snatch at my jaw, pinching tight. “You think this is a game?”
“No,” I retort, shoving at his hand but getting nowhere. “But I don’t want to hang out with my exes. I don’t want to hang out with you .”
“Too bad,” he drawls. “It was a stupid risk, having a strange man pick you up at night to drive you down unfamiliar roads.”
“I’ll have to do that in Paris after you leave me there.”
“Don’t be a fucking brat, Victoria. This was always the plan. Paris was your plan.”
“Plans change.”
“Not this one,” he counters. “I don’t have time to chase after you while I make arrangements to guarantee your safety. You need to stay where I put you.”
I scoff and push against his chest, lifting myself to climb off him. Dante’s grip—one hand still on my chin, the other taking a punishing hold of my hip—only tightens, keeping me trapped on top of him.
“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos. The patronizing note in his voice immediately pisses me off “You seem to think this is a democracy. You think that was a suggestion? The men I killed for you today are just the tip of the iceberg. I will go to the ends of the earth to make sure you get the new life you deserve. Don’t test me, princess. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a patient man.”
“You don’t scare me, Dante,” I reply. “I’m not going to bow down to you. You aren’t the only one who gets a say in how things go.”
“But what I say is final,” he retorts.
“Fuck you .”
“With pleasure.”
The sound of tearing fabric fills the car as Dante’s fingers abruptly shift and rip at my leggings. My throat thickens and I try to ignore the sudden dampness in my panties.
“You ripped my pants, ” I gasp. “How am I supposed?—”
“Looks like you’re stuck with me now, princess.”
My hand cracks across his face before I’ve even processed that I intended to smack him.
I am not his toy. He doesn’t get to pick me up for playtime whenever he wants to get off only to toss me aside when he’s done.
If he wants to fuck me, he has to keep me.
“You’re not putting your dick anywhere near me,” I say heatedly. “You don’t get to just take me when you decide it works for you .”
“I think I do,” he counters, undeterred by my physical or verbal protests. “You’re not rid of me just yet.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” I snarl.
“Don’t worry,” he smirks, using one rough finger to pull my panties to the side. “I’ll be sure to make the wait worth your while.”
His rough palm cups one side of my ass, spreading my legs wider to give him better access to my wet center.
Dripping.
Yeah. I’m embarrassingly wet for a man who doesn’t even deserve it.
The freaking asshole still turns me on. I still want him. I haven’t gotten him out of my bloodstream yet.
“You’re not going to win this, husband ,” I spit. “You can’t just throw me away when you’re done like I’m nothing. Like I’m trash .”
“I’m not throwing you away. I’m keeping you safe. I have to keep you safe, princess.”
“Why?” I press, angry at his denial of what we could have. What we do have. “So you can sleep better at night? So you can pat yourself on the back and say job well done?”
“Is that what you think I’ll do?” The tip of one of his fingers slides dangerously close to my pussy and I still in anticipation of his touch. I need to feel him. He’s the only man I’ve ever craved, body and soul. “You know me better than that.”
“You’re right,” I grumble. “You always did tell me this marriage was nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say that anymore.”
“You would. If this was something , you wouldn’t be planning to leave me.”
“I don’t want to leave you. But it’s best that I do.”
I try once again to dismount his lap, but Dante doesn’t even pretend that’s an option. He knows I’m upset, but he won’t give me the space I need to decompress and try to get over this whole fucking mess.
He won’t give me anything.
“I hate you,” I whisper. “I wish you’d just leave me alone.”
“I will,” he promises, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. The touch is oddly sweet, at odds with the harsh grip of his hands on my body and the empty ache in my exposed core. “Soon.”
“How about now?”
His lips curl into a cocky smirk, and the effect on my temper is like throwing gasoline on a fire. He seems to think this is a game, that I’m just some prissy rich girl tossing around petty commands.
Commands he has no interest in obeying.
He lowers his lips to the hollow of my throat, murmuring his next words directly into my flesh, “I’m going to spend every single waking moment with you, princess.” His promise makes me equally nauseous and thrilled.
I know that spending that much time with him, getting that much of his attention, will only lead to more heartbreak later.
I’ll love every minute just as much as I’ll regret it once he’s finally gone.
“I’d rather die,” I shoot back. “You’re getting to be as bad as Liam.”
Wrong thing to say.
Sirens go off in my brain as soon as the words leave my mouth. Warning flags are waving all around me as Dante’s head rises and his expression shifts from hunger to a chilling emptiness.
In this moment, I know what it’s like to have my life in his hands. I believe he could kill me right now, with his bare hands, and not lose any sleep over making himself a widower.
“Liam?” he repeats, his voice deeper than I’ve ever heard it. His expression is heavy, and it takes everything in me not to shrink in on myself and wish myself invisible. “You really want to make my nephew part of this conversation, princess? You think I’m acting like that motherfucker?”
No .
Well, kind of.
Only in the sense that Dante isn’t taking no for an answer. I was never in love with Liam the way I am with the man holding himself like a statue between my legs.
“You did just kidnap me,” I point out. “And you won’t let me out of this car.”
“You’re right,” he agrees solemnly. I breathe a sigh of relief, although my reprieve is short lived.
“Guess I have no choice but to fuck the memory of him right out of you.”