Page 18 of Bound in Debt
I throw my popcorn in my mouth, crunching with gusto so that she can hear how much I don’t care about whatever plans she had for me tonight. “At a football game.”
“I told you to be at the Moretti house tonight.”
I tsk. “I told you I wasn’t going, Mom. Liam and I broke up after I caught him cheating.”
“Do you think I care about a make-out session, Victoria?” she snaps back. “Get a grip and grow up.”
Um. I thought sticking up for myself and having some self-respect was grown-up.
“How about you catch a clue when I say I’m not?—”
“Finish that sentence,” she warns me through clenched teeth, “and I will rip you out of that school so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
And she would.
I know she would.
I’m not sure what the big deal is about me going to the Moretti’s stupid party, but I clearly have to go. Or else she will revoke my tuition and I’ll be forced to go home where she can more easily force me into more mind-numbing social status performances.
“Fine,” I bite out. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Wear something presentable, make sure your makeup is done and?—”
“Then it’ll be an hour.”
“Victoria…” I’m fully aware she thinks I’m pushing it, but my face is covered in black and green paint for the game.
“Mom, you don’t get both, okay? This is last minute.”
“I told you about this last week.” And I told you I wasn’t going. “And honestly, you’ve been extremely ungrateful for everything your father and I have done for you.”
We can go round and round on this merry-go-round forever, but we’ll never wind up at a different stop. She hasn’t heard anything I’ve had to say for a long time.
“See you in a bit, Mom.” And I hang up. There’s no fighting the hold my parents have over me. They control my education. All of it—their money not only pays my tuition at Thronewood, but at Graham, too. I’ve been using nearly every bit of my “living allowance” to cover my culinary classes.
I need to up my courseload. I won’t be able to count on their finances for long.
If I keep pushing back on everything my parents say, my mother will rip me out of school and push me down the aisle into the next arranged marriage she cooks up.
Anything to make her look good so she can brag to her friends about what a great job she did raising me.
I’d love to be a fly on her wall when I escape to Paris and she realizes I’m finally out of reach.
7
DANTE
“I have to say…I’m a bit surprised you’re here.”
Begrudgingly, I take a seat in front of the large oak desk centered in Angelo Lombardi’s office in the back of a local nightclub. When I called the number, I was instantly given this address and time. No hint as to how long I’d be here, just a code word to get in through the door.
A glass of amber liquid is promptly placed in front of me by a girl in shorts that ride up her tan thighs and a white tee. She doesn’t say a word, promptly exiting the room.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Angelo continues, ignoring my silence.
I meet his eyes, refusing to back down from his dark stare. “How much to clear the debt?” I know it won’t just be the six million Marco borrowed. There are always strings—more like tripwires—tied to a mob loan.
“Six million, plus interest. Each day adds more until it’s paid in full.” He lifts a rocks glass of the same liquor I was served in a mocking salute. “However, since you’re new to the debt, I’m willing to offer some…concessions.”
