Promise to Keep (Vow To Protect 2)

She moans again when I tongue her slit through her panties. “This belongs to me. I’m only kneeling to get a better taste.”

Her fingers delve into my hair, mussing it, but it doesn’t matter. Not when she starts begging, proving my point for me.

25

VALENTINA

Despite the cold shoulders I received after returning, I’m happy Adrian got everyone to clear out. The penthouse is too quiet, but I’m proud he’s taking care of his people above himself. He might not realize it, but he’s a far better person than he likes to pretend to be. We certainly are rubbing off on each other and not just sexually. I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m going to help take down Andrea’s attackers. With my own two hands if I get the choice. Doing so almost feels like justice for what Rose and I endured. I wasn’t strong enough to take the vengeance I deserved back then.

Now I can be the woman Adrian needs at his side, and I can care for his people as if they are my own family. Which, I suppose they are now.

I wander the penthouse halls, not really in search of anything, more for the exercise. Adrian is likely shut up in his office, or the command room with Kai, trying to come up with a solution that leads to the least bloodshed. While I agree in most aspects, not when it comes to the people responsible for Andrea’s attack. I’ve been crystal clear on that fact to both my husband and Kai. Lucky for me, they are in complete agreement. I don’t care if taking them down escalates things. They deserve to be—I try to think of the worst punishment imaginable—drawn and quartered…if that was still a thing.

After my third lap through the halls, I head back to our bedroom and climb up on the bed. The sheets are rumpled since Adrian has removed all staff save some of his most loyal guards. He says it’s to mitigate betrayal in our ranks, but I also think he does it to protect them. Regular cleaning crew and kitchen staff have no stake in this fight. Another pang of pride zips through me at the thought.

The worst part about this is I feel pretty useless. There’s nothing for me to do against the bureaucracy and posturing right now. Especially with Adrian refusing to allow me any freedom outside the penthouse.

I settle back into the pillows, leaning up against the headboard. There has to be something I can do. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to come up with anything that might be useful, but so far, I’ve come up empty.

My only advantage is knowing the ins and outs of Sal’s family operations. All of which I already shared in great detail with Kai and Adrian in one long sit-down interrogation. If they can use it, I’ll be glad. I’ve wanted to scrub every detail out of my brain since the first moment I learned what those bastards trafficked in. Bile rises in my throat at the resurgence of memory.

Sal showing me the videos he took on his phone of his latest shipments.

Sal crowing about his latest underage conquests.

Sal getting off watching my revulsion.

And his family is just as bad. It takes me a moment to pull out of the flashback, ground myself in the present, and remember I’m no longer in that reality.

As I come back to myself, an idea slips through the fog. At first, I shake it off as a dumb idea, but the longer I let it take up space in my head, the more it starts to grow on me, especially if I’m safe about it. Potentially, I could deescalate everything quickly if it works. But if Adrian found out, I don’t know how he’d feel about it, let alone Kai.

I grab my phone off the bedside table and maneuver to my old accounts. This phone has been scrubbed clean, and I need to find an old contact I’d long since happily washed away.

Once I do find it, though, I stare at the screen and frown. This is probably such a dumb idea…but if I don’t try, I won’t feel like I did everything to mitigate the damage that is coming. Damage that is mostly my fault to begin with. If I hadn’t made the deal with Adrian, we wouldn’t be here now. Also, I’d likely be dead.

I hover my finger over the call button for a full minute before I hit send. Even as the phone rings on the other side, I want to take it back, hang up, and pretend I didn’t do this.

A gruff voice answers, and I freeze, my hands shaking. I’d heard that voice on countless of Sal’s videos. Hearing it directed at me sends a shiver down my spine. Sal’s father, Nigel, is not the forgiving type, and no doubt he blames me for his son’s death. On the same token, he also doesn’t allow personal matters to interfere with business, so at the very least I’ve got a small chance of making a negotiation work.