Page 44 of Bound in Debt
“That’s it?” I ask. “You just want me to marry you and find out about the trust?”
“For now,” he confirms. “Keep playing pretend with Liam until we’ve made it official.”
“We’re playing a dangerous game here. I don’t trust my mother.”
“But you know her best. So, feel her out, and we’ll get what we can. I’m going to tell Angelo that you’ve agreed to marry me and warn him about keeping his goons away from you.”
“Why would your help be something he needs?”
Dante shakes his head dismissively. “Maybe it’s my handsome face and the fact that I can make a woman agree to marry me without even kissing her.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I might be—actually, I am. But I’m the asshole that’s going to free you.”
15
VICTORIA
My palms sweat as I hold my mother’s gaze from across the coffee table. A pattern of intricate pink roses on the bone white background of her finest China peeks out from between her perfectly buffed nails. Her eyebrows have a delicately suspicious arch.
I knew this was a stupid idea.
My mother is a cynical woman. She sees the world in terms of political alliances and business transactions. So, naturally, anything involving finances or her personal affairs gets the full weight of her attention.
“Why would you need to know that? Why worry about your trust when you know it’ll all be settled after you marry Liam?” she finally asks from behind the rim of her teacup. Despite the bold red lipstick she always wears, not a single stain or smudge dares to mar the perfection of the tea set. It’s a skill I’ve certainly never been able to master.
Her tone is carefully bored, but I know her interest is piqued.
“I’m not a fan of this idea, which you’re well aware of.” I reply flatly, folding my fingers together on my lap to keep from fidgeting. “Still, I want to make sure our money is safe.”
Technically, the trust is mine, but I hope that calling it ours will help her remember we’re family. We should be a team. I want her to think that I care as much for my parents’ well-being as they don’t for mine. She knows I’ve skipped class to meet her today, something I assured her I was more than happy to do, knowing the importance of my upcoming wedding. I’ll take every bonus point I can score with her right now.
Her lips soften at the corners and her eyes seem a bit more caring. I’ve managed to chip away at her defenses. It’s all I can do not to grin, but I maintain a stoic façade.
“You needn’t worry about that, dear.” She takes another sip of her tea as I try not to roll my eyes at her fake compassion. “The Morettis are a good family. They have money of their own.”
I’m almost tempted to tell her that they don’t have any money but I hold my tongue. Professor Moretti—Dante—is right. If I tell my mother about the mob, she’ll just go running to the cops. And there isn’t a chance in hell they’d be able to do anything before Angelo Lombardi or one of his goons finds me.
“I’m concerned about Liam stealing our money.”
My mother leans forward to place her cup on the small, matching saucer as she glances up as if praying for patience. “Victoria, let me remind you, Liam doesn’t need the money in your trust. He’s?—”
“I’d like a prenup.”
Her jaw drops. I’ve managed to surprise her, breaking through her mask of indifference. “Excuse me?”
“Mother, surely you know what a prenuptial agreement is? You had Dad sign one.”
Her hard eyes bore into mine and she purses her lips, unamused by my smartass attitude. “But I went in knowing my place. My position.”
“And I’d feel more comfortable in my position if we had a legal agreement.” I lift my chin, copying my mother’s often-used signal that she’s firm in her decision. “I think it’s only fair to ensure all the T’s are crossed. It would give me the confidence I need to go through with the arrangement knowing I’m safe.”
She watches me for a moment and I can practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she works to solve the puzzle that I’ve presented her. Her eyes drift down my body, taking in my outfit and the way I’ve gently cross my legs at the ankle. I deliberately chose a dress she gifted me last Christmas—it’s a fitted maroon sheath that’s elegant and understated. I can only hope that my attempt to meet her exacting standards for my presentation will make her more willing to speak openly with me. To take me seriously as more than just a pawn in her machinations.
“Then you’ll be reassured to learn there’s a no-divorce clause in regards to your trust. Even if Liam were to leave you and pursue a separation, the money would not go with him.”
“And if he decides to stay? Then who would control the money?”
