Page 3 of Bound in Debt
“Perfect.”
“Are you going to be here all year? I’d love to sign up for next semester?—”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I sigh, bringing my fingers up to my temples to make small circles in an attempt to rub out a rapidly forming headache. “If you’re this incapable of taking direction, of understanding that I wanted you out of here five minutes ago, one semester with you will be quite long enough for me. I don’t believe I could bear two.”
Victoria’s lips part in a shocked gasp before she turns on her heel, marching angrily toward her belongings.
I take note of the crown molding framing the walls and the high ceiling. The crystal chandeliers hanging overhead make this space feel so over the top it’s almost sickening. I’m surprised the chairs aren’t made of gold or that a butler isn’t waiting in the hall to let people in and out of the various rooms.
“Vee, baby, I’m home.”
My nostrils flare at the annoying voice intruding on my space. I’d recognize my nephew’s signature whine anywhere. It sounds just like his mother’s. Petulant, bored, and in need of a job involving hard labor. His hands are as pretty and soft as a model’s, a direct contrast to my scarred and callused ones. I swear to God, if I ever find out the kid gets manicures, I’ll go to my brother’s grave and bitch about his pansy-ass son for at least an hour.
“Uncle D,” Liam greets cheerily from the doorway. “How’s it going?”
I don’t respond, still staring at the rich décor until I feel him at my side. Glancing over, I can see he’s almost as tall as I am, but far scrawnier. Weaker.
Maybe I will go visit Marco regardless.
“Liam,” I greet flatly, ignoring his cocky little smile.
“You ready to start teaching? Act all middle-class and shit?”
I want to punch him in the throat and watch him gasp for air.
I’m unsure of what went wrong, because the brother I knew would never have raised his son to be a prick. Marco always preached that respect is the highest form of currency. That it can’t be bought, only earned.
“You really are an entitled little prick, aren’t you, Liam?”
My nephew doesn’t wipe the smirk off his face, acting as if he earned every dollar he spends. “Ma says I act like you. Always said you were a broody asshole with a chip on his shoulder.”
“And what chip are you carrying around?” I press back. “Did your black Amex max out?”
Liam’s lips turn down in a scowl. “She tell you that?”
“Tell me what?”
“That she won’t pay it. That we have no m?—”
“I’m ready,” Victoria beams, heaving her backpack over her shoulder and lifting her violin case in one hand. She looks at my nephew expectantly. “Can we stop by my room really quick so I can drop my stuff off?”
Liam’s light brown eyes flick over to her, but he doesn’t lose an ounce of his arrogance. “Yeah, whatever. I see you met my uncle.”
Victoria looks back at me. “You didn’t say Professor Moretti was your uncle. I’ve only been talking about him for weeks now.”
Christ.
“It was a surprise,” Liam claims, shoving his hands into his dark jeans. “Plus, we didn’t know if you were getting into his class.”
“Right,” she replies, her tone aggrieved. “Well, thank you, Professor, for letting me use the classroom.”
I finally look back over at her, taking the time to really get a look at what my nephew is probably banging.
And I can’t say I blame him.
She’s fucking beautiful. Scattered freckles form a bridge over her nose and highlight her cheekbones. Her sun-kissed skin is warm and inviting, and her lips are a sweet, perfect pink—perfect for wrapping around a cock.
Rich women and their needy little whims aren’t to my taste. And this one is too young for me to be fantasizing about anyway.
