He tests the skin on his cheek and takes another step toward me. I hold my ground and spread my arms to block his view of Rose. “You touch her again, and I’ll kill you.”
This time, he laughs at me. A loud sniffling guffaw and then he spins around the room like it’s all a joke. “You, tiny little Valentine, think you can kill me?”
His face becomes serious, and he pulls a black handgun from a holster under his arm. “How are you going to do that when you can’t even look at a gun?”
He’s right. Even now, I can’t stand the sight of it. I almost throw up my toast when he pushes the barrel against my lips and forces it against my teeth. With no choice, I stand there and take it, but I look him in the eye the entire time. If he wants to shoot me, he’s going to watch the millions of dollars he would have gotten through our marriage bleed out my brain.
Another heartbeat later, he turns away and goes back to his desk. I don’t have to say a word to Rose. We both flee from the room up to my bedroom. I lock the door and drag the heavy armoire in front of it.
Rose is huddled on the other side of the bed, her knees against her chest and her face in the carpet.
Tears are pouring down her cheeks, and mine, I realize as I gather her into my arms and rock her gently against my chest. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I was supposed to keep you safe, and he got to you anyway. I never thought he would touch you.”
She doesn’t respond, and all I can do is hold her until she falls asleep. Then I grab my pillow and blanket off the bed to make her more comfortable.
My brain is strangely empty when I go to my bedside table and pull out both the black card and my cell phone. I dial the number and hit send.
It rings several times, and then a female voice says, “Hello?”
I suck in a slow inhale and blow it out soft enough it’s not heard through the line. Then I say, “I’m calling to speak to Adrian, please.”
To be continued in Vow to Protect
1
VALENTINA
Rose pleads with me again, begging, and it breaks my heart. I slip the gold hoop in my earlobe and close the back, taking a moment to compose myself before we go another round.
“All I’m saying is this is a bad idea,” she repeats for the tenth time.
I face her and smooth my hands down the black silk bandage dress that hugs every inch of me a little too tightly. It was Rose’s, and she adjusted it for me, despite her reservations about my decision. The dress turns my lack of curves into something enticing for once. I wish I could appreciate it.
My hands are shaking when I answer her. “I get it. But our choices are bad choice A that we’ve been living with, or bad choice B that is fresh and new and might...”
“Be even worse?” she supplies.
I step into the towering heels, and despite her still grumbling, she kneels at my feet and straps the buckles at my ankle. It is highly likely I’ll topple off them and make a fool of myself, but they complete the look. And tonight, I need to look like I mean business. Despite my father thinking I’m useless, I know his world, and I know how things operate. Looking the part is half the battle.
“Do you want to spend another two weeks hiding in here, sneaking out for food when we can’t handle being hungry anymore? Because I don’t. If we can get rid of Sal, then I’m willing to take the risk. All you have to do is stay here and cover for me. Tell anyone who asks I have my period, and there’s a mess all over the bathroom. It will gross anyone out enough that they won’t ask you for details.”
She juts her chin up at me, her eyes glistening. “I just wish you didn’t have to make this choice in the first place.”
I kneel and capture her chin in my hand. “This is not your fault. You are not to blame in any of this, so get that thought out of your head now.”
With a sniff, she nods. “Fine. What else do you need from me?”
I drag her to stand in a hug. “Help me out of the window and pray I don’t break my neck in these damn shoes before I can sneak off the grounds.”
That earns me a little smile as she helps me steady myself on the way toward the window. The balcony leads out to a fire escape, so it’s a matter of squeezing down a narrow flight of stairs to reach the grass below.