9. Eleanor
ELEANOR
Luna pushes her plate away and leans back in the booth with a contented sigh. “Okay, I’m officially stuffed.”
I laugh softly and take another sip of wine. “You say that every time and then somehow still order dessert.”
“That’s because dessert doesn’t count,” she says seriously.
I shake my head, smiling.
It’s nice being here with her. For so long, I’ve been surrounded by the men of the family.
The restaurant around us buzzes with conversation, but my thoughts keep drifting to Bobby, to the house and to the meeting I skipped out on. Today when we were together, it reminded me of our early days, and my chest tightens just thinking about it.
Luna studies me from across the table. “You miss him.”
I blink, surprised. “Is it that obvious?”
She gives me a look. “Eleanor. That man watches you like you hung the moon. You are the same way with him.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks.
“He’s trying,” I admit quietly.
Luna smiles softly. “I know.”
I trace my fingertip around the rim of my wine glass. “The thing is… our marriage isn’t perfect.”
“None of them are.”
I nod slowly. “I know that logically. But when you’re living it…” I shrug helplessly. “Things just started piling up. One hurt after another, and before I realized it, I felt lonely in my own marriage.”
Luna’s expression softens, and I force out a laugh. “God, I’m the one that’s been married thirty-five years. I should be giving you advice and not scaring you away from our family and what it can do to a relationship.”
She leans toward me. “I’m not scared. I know people aren’t perfect. I’m far from it, and so is Cole, even though he seems to think otherwise sometimes.” She laughs and pops her shoulders. “But I love him, and we’ll work it out. Just like you and Robert will.”
“I do miss him,” I whisper. “God, I miss him. I miss home. I miss waking up beside him. I miss him yelling at everyone during dinner.” I laugh softly. “I even miss the ridiculous security.”
Luna grins and points at the men in suits at the next table that look totally out of place. “Okay, now I know you’re emotional because nobody could miss that.”
I laugh harder this time.
Then I sigh and look out the restaurant window. “I think I want to go home.”
As soon as I say the words, a weight lifts off me.
Luna reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Then go home.”
Emotion clogs my throat. “I’m scared things will just go back to the way they were.”
“They won’t,” she says confidently.
“How do you know?”
She doesn’t even hesitate. “Because Robert Kingston would probably burn down the whole city before letting you walk out again.”
I burst out laughing because honestly, she’s probably right. This has been rough for both of us.
She checks her phone and then glances at me. “Want me to go with you to get your things?”
I hesitate for all of two seconds. “Actually… yes.”
“Good.” She stands up.
I wait for second thoughts or something to stop me, but all I feel is calm. This is the right decision, and it’s time for me to go home.
Twenty minutes later, Luna’s SUV pulls up outside my apartment building.
Her security detail climbs out first and instantly scans the street.
I used to hate all this, but now after being up close and personal with Victor Sterling, I’m thinking I can get used to it. It does make me feel a little safer.
Paul is standing by the front door of the apartment building, surveying the parking lot.
Luna follows me up the stairs and wrinkles her nose. “Okay, no offense, but I’m very excited for you to stop living here.”
I laugh softly. “I know. It’s not as bad as you and Robert make it out to be, but I get it.”
I unlock the apartment door, open it, and immediately freeze.
There’s a massive bouquet of red roses sitting on my kitchen counter, and they weren’t there when I left.
Luna notices them too. “Wow. Robert’s trying hard.”
My stomach drops instantly. “No.”
She looks over at me. “What?”
I slowly shake my head. “Those aren’t from Bobby. He wouldn’t have flowers delivered. He would bring them himself.” I pause. “And he wouldn’t send me roses. He knows I don’t like roses.”
A chill goes down my spine as I stare at the flowers.
Luna steps closer to me. “Eleanor?”
There’s a small black card tucked into the bouquet. I pull it free and open it. I read the words and start to feel sick.
“When this is over, you’re going to be mine.”
The card is signed with only a V.
Luna snatches the card from my hand, and her face drains of color. “Oh my God.”
I stare at the roses. Victor sent me these. Hell, he could have delivered them himself. I look around my apartment, and it no longer feels freeing to me. Hell, I feel like I may be suffocating.
Paul knocks on the still open door. “Everything okay in here?”
He scans the room, and as soon as he sees the flowers, he points at them. “Where the hell did those come from?”
Luna hands him the card, and his jaw tightens as he reads it. “Fuck,” he grunts.
He looks between Luna and me. “Sorry for the language. Was this in the hallway?”
Wide-eyed, I stare at him. “No, it was right there on the counter.”
He pockets the note card. “I’m taking you home, Eleanor. Robert won’t allow… I mean, it’s the safest thing… I mean…”
I know he’s trying to figure out the best way to say it, but I get it.
“I know. I just need to pack some stuff up and I’ll be ready.”
“Stay here,” Paul says.
He walks room to room, gun drawn, and then comes back to join us. “It’s empty. Grab what you need, and I’ll come get the rest tomorrow.”
He speaks to Luna’s security detail that is standing in the hallway, and what was going to be a leisurely girls’ night out turns into a feeling of panic.
I start moving through the apartment. I grab my suitcase and throw some clothes in. Luna helps by packing up my toiletries in the bathroom. The whole time she is muttering under her breath about psychopaths and Sterlings and how Robert is definitely going to murder someone.
Despite everything, I giggle as she goes on with her rant.
By the time we head back downstairs, Luna’s security detail and Paul have tightened ranks around us.
I feel like I’m holding my breath, and the only thing that is going to help is to get home to Robert, where I belong.