Page 37 of Bound in Debt
“Getting married?”
“Yep.” She shreds one of the empty sugar packets into tiny shreds with quick, angry motions. “I think the notion is archaic and foul. And ill-fitted to someone like me.”
My brows rise in curiosity. “What the hell does that mean?”
Victoria rolls her eyes. “Does it matter? I don’t want to marry anyone.”
“And you think that I’m just jumping for joy over the prospect of marrying a twenty-year-old who probably can’t make toast without burning it?”
She cocks her head to the side and glares at me. Obviously, she thinks I’m a massive piece of shit. But she needs to relax. It’s not as if I went out with the goal of finding a young wife I can knock up and get eight kids off of.
“Don’t underestimate me, Professor. I might just surprise you.”
“Doubtful.” I need to take back control of the conversation. We don’t have time to fuck around. “I need to meet with Angelo Lombardi tonight. And I need to know whether I can announce our impending nuptials.”
“No.”
Fucking figures.
She’s either not taking this seriously or she thinks I’m some creepy middle-aged asshole looking for a trophy wife and a quick fuck.
Either way, I’m not going to keep pushing at this if she won’t accept my offer. I’m not her father, brother, uncle, friend, or any kind of role model. If she wants to bet her future on Liam, well, good luck.
“Don’t flatter yourself by thinking this would be anything more than a marriage in name only,” I say. “I’d rather drown myself than listen to you whine about how I don’t like missionary sex.”
“Don’t do that,” she sneers. “If you die then that’s one less person for this Angelo guy to get his money from.”
Cute.
Like I said earlier, a brat and a complete pain in my ass.
“Sounds more tempting by the second, doesn’t it?”
Victoria scoffs. “I’m not going to marry a professor and become the laughing stock of the school.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. Am I too far beneath your station?”
Victoria jumps up from the bench, dropping her coffee as her hands curl into fists. I can’t help but think that the pink washing over her cheeks is the prettiest shade I’ve seen.
She looks beautiful.
A beautiful pain in my ass.
“Sit down, Victoria.”
“It’s Vee.”
“I’m not calling you that.”
“Then this conversation is over,” she retorts, kicking the paper cup and sending it spinning towards me. “I’ll talk to my parents about why Liam wants this wedding so bad and?—”
“You do that,” I agree with a sneer. “But you’ll be signing our death certificates. Because when they don’t take you seriously…” I let my voice trail off, shaking my head.
“I’m not going to die.” She points at herself as if she’s somehow above all this. “I’m going to tell my parents. They’ll call of the engagement and find someone to protect me. I might have to transfer, but?—”
A mirthless chuckle rumbles from my chest, surprising both of us. Victoria’s features soften with pity, as if she thinks I’m having a nervous breakdown, but she knows nothing about what the mob can do.
“Good luck with that, sweetheart. I bet your father will call some political hotshot he knows, or maybe call in a favor with the cops or the FBI. And as soon as that happens, Angelo will kill your parents and you and then bribe his way out of any consequences. Or daddy dearest will try to pay off the debt himself, in which case Angelo will take his money and still kill all of you as a way of tying up loose ends. Still your funeral in the end.”
