Page 23 of Bound in Debt
My mother will be furious. I wonder how long I have until she calls Thronewood’s finance office to cancel my tuition payments. I have no idea how she will get her money back, but I’m learning never to underestimate my mother when it comes down to her getting what she wants. For all I know, she’ll let them keep the money and have them name another building after my family.
Carefully, I climb down the tree, and I’m about halfway to the ground when a male voice startles me, breaking my concentration on my escape.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
My foot slips but I’m able to grab the limb I’m holding to keep from falling. I hear a muttered curse as Professor Moretti once again directs his irritation to me. “Let go, Victoria. I’ve got you.”
Hell no.
I can’t trust him not to kick me out of his class. Why would I trust him with my life?
“I got it,” I reply, my voice strained from the effort of supporting my entire bodyweight with my arms. Ignoring Professor Moretti, I try to swing my leg up, back to where it was before.
“Victoria,” he warns me. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“All the better for you, right?” The toe of my sneaker snags at the bark of the tree. Almost…there… I clench my teeth and focus. “Don’t…worry…about me.”
“My family doesn’t need to deal with a lawsuit when you bust your ass.”
“Oh, well…” I tsk. “Turn around and you won’t have to….watch me…fall.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters before I feel him tugging at my ankle. “Let go, Victoria.”
My fingers begin to slip as he throws off my balance and I squeal in frustration. Why did he have to get involved? He could’ve just kept on walking.
“Victoria—” I finally lose my grip and I’m free-falling toward the stone pavers until I’m stopped by a pair of thick arms. The smell of patchouli and cigars fills my nostrils.
Slowly, I glance up at Professor Moretti’s face. He’s scowling daggers at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” he grunts. “Have you never heard of doors?”
I wiggle my feet, signaling for him to put me down. He ignores me. “I’m trying to run away.”
“What?”
As much as I wish he’d catch the hint and stop holding me like a distressed damsel—which I wasn’t before he inserted himself in my daring escape—Professor Moretti doesn’t release me. “Would you please let me down?”
“You’re bleeding.”
Glancing down at my hands, I see that my left palm is pretty torn up from the tree, with scratches and likely splinters criss-crossing the skin. A bit of blood wells in the deepest of the cuts. “It’s fine. I’ll fix it up at my dorm?—”
“You can fix it up in the guest house,” he replies cooly. “C’mon.” He begins to walk toward the dark building in the backyard next to the pool, still carrying me. I attempt to wiggle out of his grasp again. “Stop moving around.”
“I need to get out of here,” I snap angrily. “And you’re messing it up.”
“How?”
“Because my mother— Never mind. Can you please let me go?”
He continues to ignore me, opening up the door one-handed and flicking the lights on. As I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness, I glimpse navy blue walls decorated with nautical-themed pictures. Finally, Professor Moretti sets me down on the couch and pins me with a stern glower.
“Stay there.”
This man…
I’m not sure where he gets off ordering me around, but I’ve had just about enough of it for tonight.
I wait for him to traipse through the small living space and disappear into a bathroom before I slowly stand and begin inching toward the door.
