Page 83 of Bound in Debt
Dr. Amos scowls at me for my rude interruption, the crow’s feet framing his eyes after years of surviving this school’s bullshit deepening. “He had a prior appointment and is unavailable. Hence, why I’m here conducting this investigation.”
“An investigation implies a search for answers,” I retort flatly, “and I already admitted to marrying Miss Waldorf.”
His light brown eyes widen again, as if the truth of the matter is really sinking in this time. “Mr. Moretti, your actions have consequences. This puts a black mark on our reputation. Parents do not send their children here to be seduced by the staff. Especially not when their family has been supporting our institution for generations.”
I don’t bother to correct him. Victoria may be young, but she’s no child. And I’m sure plenty of families send their heirs to this prestigious—I want to sneer at the word—university. Amos can think what he wants and say what he wishes to make the administration feel better. I just want out of this office so that I can return to making arrangements for Victoria and me to leave the States.
“Mrs. Waldorf has already withdrawn her daughter and is threatening to?—”
“What?” I step closer to his desk and the man has the good sense to flinch away before he catches himself. “What do you mean withdrawn?”
I know how much her education means to Victoria and the dreams she intends to chase. And her mother may have been the one paying her daughter’s tuition, but Victoria has rights in all this, too.
“I can’t discuss the specifics of any student’s records.”
“She’s my wife,” I bark out, feeling an annoyed throb behind my temples. “And my responsibility.”
That sounds more like it.
“Anything outside this room?—”
“Victoria is also a legal adult,” I continue, lifting a disbelieving eyebrow and just barely stopping myself from reaching over this paper-pusher’s desk and throttling him. “And while I assume Mrs. Waldorf has, up until now, been paying Victoria’s tuition…”
Dr. Amos remains deathly still, stubbornly refusing to answer my unspoken question.
Motherfucker.
“No one but Victoria can pull her out of this school, no matter how much power they think they hold, so long as her fees are paid.”
The dickhead administrator continues to blink at me, a toady smirk crossing his face.
“We done here?” I clip out through my teeth. “I have a prior appointment.”
He holds my glower haughtily as if I wouldn’t kick his ass outside of this university. “To be perfectly clear, Moretti, you’re fired.”
I salute him with my middle finger before turning on my heel.
“Have a good day, Jimmy.”
His indignant spluttering is more than satisfying as I let the door slam behind me. Time to head to the admissions and financial services office to straighten this latest bullshit out.
—
It doesn’t take long to sort out Victoria’s enrollment status or the funding for her classes because money talks. The moment I strode into the plush office, I received astonished stares and stirred up plenty of whispered conversations. Obviously, the rumors of my relationship with a student and our scandalous shotgun wedding have already begun circulating among the staff.
However, I pay the balance on Victoria’s account, covering the rest of the year despite doubting how much longer she’ll be in attendance.
After my credit card clears, I leave the administrative building behind and head toward my office to pack the few things I have stored there. The quicker I can get off campus, the better. I know Victoria is going to be the center of quite a bit of nasty attention once the student body hears what’s happened.
I probably should have asked if she even wanted to stay at Thronewood before paying an ungodly amount of money to keep her enrolled. The financial counselor who helped me pay for Victoria’s classes informed me she would reach out to my wife and notify her of her change in status while I cleared out my office.
The bottle of Campari in my desk beckons, tempting me to take a much-needed drink after the events of the last few days.
Sitting down in my leather chair one last time, I crack the bottle open and take a long swig, not bothering to find a glass. The bitter and citrusy flavor runs down my throat as I close my eyes, basking in the first few seconds of peace I’ve gotten in what feels like eons.
When I bring the bottle to my lips again for a second pull, I hear the door to the classroom open and the tapping of purposeful steps crossing the empty room.
I slit my eyes open to see Victoria closing in on me, her face screwed up in a look of determination that means she’s clearly heard from the financial aid counselor.
