Page 42 of Broken Promises
A barely perceptible grimace pulls his face, but he doesn’t stop. He takes my hand, drawing me closer. “What did I say? You shouldn’t be afraid.”
“Then stop giving me reasons. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You tricked Julij into bringing you here even though I said no. It’s not safe, Star.”
“Yousaid? Get. A.Dog.”
He lets go of me, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This won’t work if you don’t trust my judgment.”
“Trust?! Funny you should mention trust. How am I supposed to trust you when you keep things from me?”
Julij casts a warning glare my way, shaking his head softly behind Dante’s back. Too little too late...
Dante cocks an eyebrow, eyes roving my face as if he’s trying to find more information in my expression. I’m sure he can. There’s no need to spell it out. A pink glow of anger heats his skin like a flame running in dry grass, swiftly wiping off his carefully maintained composure. His eyes close briefly, and nostrils flare. The way he chews on his teeth and cracks his neck tells me he’s fighting to stay calm.
Just when I think he’s past the outburst stage, he turns on his heel and eliminates the distance separating him from Julij in two long strides. He throws his elbow back. Then forth, fast. His fist connects with Julij’s face. A loudcracksounds in the silent room—Julij’s nose or Dante’s knuckles. I can’t tell.
“You told her?! Was mydon’t tell Laylatoo fucking subtle?”
“She’s not a helpless little girl!” he seethes, holding onto his bleeding nose. Drops of crimson find their way between his fingers, seeping down to stain his shirt. “She’s stronger than you think. You can’t shield her from everything.”
I feel myself drifting into the dreaded panic. Elastic, wobbly legs won’t hold me upright much longer. I suck in ragged breaths, peeling my eyes from Julij.
“Maybe,” Dante says. “But nothing will stop me from trying.” He steals a glance my way, his eyes full of something much more profound and feral than love. If not for the high-pitched ringing in my ears, I’d easily melt under the savage gaze of his green eyes, under the weight of his protectiveness pressing in on me from all angles. “Fuck.” He strides back to where I stand, silently, pathetically panicking. Warm hands cup my face. “Eyes on me, Layla. You’re okay.”
My head moves up and down like a bobblehead. “I’m okay, I... I shouldn’t have looked.”
His mouth twitches as he tries to don a smirk. “Yeah, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be here, either. I go where you go.”
Goosebumps break out along my spine because I know he means more than following me here. “Good thing you’ll make sure I don’t go.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dante
Twenty-eight years of searching. Learning. Finding out who I am, eliminating flaws, and perfecting my character. It didn’t come easy. Change never comes easy. A few months ago, I was confident that my priorities were in order and my life was on the right trajectory. And then Layla arrived, introducing a new era of significant changes.
Six months ago, nothing mattered more than power. Respect and money took the rest of the podium.
Now, neither make up the top five.
Layla isit.
Nothing matters more. First, her safety, then health, happiness, love, and trust. She brought a different side of my character to life; she peeled my layers to uncover a man capable of feeling more than synonyms of angry or powerful. She changed the way I see and treat women. There’s no taking my star for granted, no bossing her around. Words likepleaseandsorrywere long extinct in my vocabulary until she came along.
Consciously, I accepted the changes as they came. I volunteered to grow as a man for her. She hadn’t asked me to change, but I’m consumed by a gnawing desire to better myself, grow as a human being, and make her proud.
Among the multitude of positive, intentional changes, there are also those that happened without my knowledge. Changes I wasn’t aware of until the situation betrayed me, that my brain no longer occupies the throne. The fucking muscle in my chest seized control.
I understand why my world has been reappraised. I can rationally explain why I feel or act the way I do. Nothing surprised me much. Not the newly acquired reflex of reaching for a gun whenever Layla’s in the slightest danger. Not the desire to protect her regardless of the consequences. Not even that I hold her on a pedestal, superior to every other aspect of my life.
I thought nothing could ever blindside me, but I proved myself wrong. My rational thinking was defeated by emotions for years. I’m not a man who calmly assesses a problem. I act first and think later, too late for a change of heart. A turmoil of feelings buzzing in my system thanks to Layla’s escape pushed me to make Julij bleed, just as it would in pre-Layla, but today I took a moment tothink.
Not only does Julij deserve a few punches. So do Spades, Jackson, and Cai. Layla’s desertion would come back to bite them all if not for one small detail—she would be the only one affected by my outbursts. My people would brush off the punches. They’d forget my temper a few days down the line.
Not Layla. She’d torture herself if anyone suffered because of her stunt. And since her happiness is one of my top priorities, I couldn’t nail Julij. Well, at least I tried very fucking hard. If he hadn’t told her about the bodies piling up since the moment we arrived back in Chicago, I would’ve succeeded.
“I left her under your protection, Spades.” I aim my finger at him while we stand outside Jess’s house, giving Layla a few minutes alone with her mother. “You were supposed to watch her. How the fuck did she get by security?!”
