Page 65 of His Promise

“It’s been a crazy week. I didn’t mean not to call you.” It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t the full truth either. I don’t bother telling her I didn’t call her because I was terrified. Terrified I’d imagined things, terrified I’d hear the disdain in her voice I’ve become accustomed to. “You’re free to reach out to me too, you know.”

“You’re not too busy?”

I shake my head. “Not for you.”

She gives me a sleepy smile and gets up from the bed.

“What are you doing?” I ask when she stumbles to my closet.

“I need to tell Zeke goodnight and make sure he’s all set. Go to sleep, I’ll be back.”

I rest my head on my pillow and close my eyes, but I know I won’t be able to fall asleep. Not until I’ve checked my phone to see the damage. My campaign manager will be livid, but it isn’t him I’m worried about. It’s Settimo.

Abi returns and crawls into bed with me, snuggling her ass into my groin. I wrap my arm around her and kiss the back of her head.

“Colter?” she says, sounding sleepy.

“Yes?”

“My name is Abigail Cole.”

I smile into her hair and squeeze her tight. “Get some sleep, Abigail Cole.”

She settles into me, and I wait until her breathing is heavy for a solid ten minutes before I carefully uncurl myself from her and creep out of bed. I find my phone across the room where I dropped it and take a breath before lighting up the screen.

There are forty-three missed calls from my campaign manager. Forty-fucking-three. If I hadn’t told my security guard not to open the front gate for anyone, no exceptions, I’m sure he would’ve been here.

I spot the missed call from the number I recognize as Settimo’s secretary, and I rub my jaw. That one is going to be a difficult conversation.

I glance over toward the bed, my chest constricting as I spot the red-haired beauty curled up underneath my sheets.

It was worth it. Whatever ass-chewing I get, I can take. We’re too close to the election for Settimo to risk cutting me off, and I’ve gone up five points in the polls in the last week. Danny-Do-Good seems to have his own dirty laundry the press got ahold of, courtesy of the Grucos, and what he doesn’t have, is a forgiving look. He’s fifty-four and been Councilman of Ward Two for the past eight years, and his work hasn’t been the least bit impressive. You need a pearly white smile and a devilish charm to get away with fucking an under-aged girl.

I’ve got this election. I have little doubt about it at this point, and I can take a day off. Still, my heart races and I press the message icon to check those next.

There are several that can be answered tomorrow, and to my relief, there’s nothing from Settimo’s work number.

I spot a text from a number I don’t recognize that came in twenty minutes ago, and I tap my phone to open it.

Enjoy her while you can.

I squint at the screen then glance over at Abi, her sleeping form hidden in the dark. It’s a creepy ass thing to say, but not at all out of character for Lorenzo.

Maybe it isn’t Settimo I have to worry about after all.

I lock my phone and go back to bed, gently setting it on the nightstand before I settle in behind Abi. My eyes are wide open as I stare past her, my gaze locking on nothing in particular. There’s no hope for sleep tonight. Not after that.

Tomorrow I’ll need to find Lorenzo. I don’t care who he is, and I don’t care what kind of authority he has over me. They need me. Whether he wants to admit it or not.

This has to end.

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