Page 20 of Bound in Debt
“I’ll have to think about it.” Hell. No.
He lifts a brow. “You have another plan?”
“Did you ever discuss the repayment terms with Marco when you loaned him the money?”
Angelo’s face hardens, clearly not appreciating my lack of respect or gratitude for this so-called concession. “Listen here, Moretti, I’m not a cruel man?—”
“Hence why you need men like me.” I stand, needing to get out of this fussy club and away from the annoying bass of techno music. “I’ll need the terms, something in writing, before I make my decision.”
Angelo glowers at me. “What else could you possibly need to know? What terms could matter more than knowing that if I get paid I won’t order your head on a platter?”
“Jobs. What you’d expect me to do, whether my expenses would be paid if?—”
“This isn’t a fucking gang,” Angelo lifts his hands, palm out, seemingly offended. “This organization is my family. All the men who work for me are treated as such. You would be as well.”
“Then you must have a soft heart. That worries me. If you don’t run a tight operation then I run the risk of someone ratting me out?—”
“The only reason I offered you this opportunity,” he hisses, “is because you belonged to the Giordanos. The most elite, the most feared, Italians in the world. Your brother would never have gotten this offer.”
“And what of yours?” I press back calmly. “How did your brother find himself on the wrong side of the Giordano mob?”
“Gambling,” Angelo grimaces, “and screwing the don’s wife.” He lifts his shoulder in a one-sided shrug. “He dug his own grave. I’m not interested in revenge. I’m offering you a chance to become part of my family. We treat each other well.”
“I appreciate it,” I lie. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
I turn toward the exit but stop at Angelo’s next words. “The terms are simple, Dante. Work for me, all expenses paid and don’t ask questions. And in return I’ll treat you like one of my own children.”
If he really has children, they would be a weakness I may be able to exploit.
“I teach at Thronewood University, as you well know,” I reply. “I have students relying on me.”
Like I give two shits about them. I’m just buying as much time as I can.
“Of course. I can be flexible, let you finish the semester. However, there might be the occasional weekend job I need you to take care of.”
“I understand.”
“This offer expires in four days, Moretti. That’s ninety-six hours—more than enough time to consider your options. If you don’t accept, well,” he chuckles to himself, “I’ll be expecting my payment then…in full.”
Fuck.
8
VICTORIA
“Have you lost your damn mind?” The pads of Mom’s fingers pinch the sensitive flesh above my elbow and I try my best not to squeal in pain. “I told you to get dressed.”
“I didn’t have time,” I remark through clenched teeth. And I wasn’t about to go across campus to dress up for Liam of all people. “Let go!” I rip my arm from her grasp, aware that she won’t try to snatch me up again, not with all the sparkling women and suited men buzzing around the Moretti home. Marissa is throwing another lavish party for no reason other than attention and the social elite are all too happy to indulge her and peacock for each other.
“You look like an urchin in those clothes.”
I’m wearing light blue jean shorts and a green Thronewood University shirt, nothing terribly offensive, but my mother’s disgust is hardly a surprise.
“I apologize, Mom, but you said to hurry.” She plucks a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and downs the contents in one swallow. “That’s not very ladylike,” I snark.
She flicks her dark brown eyes at me. They’re filled with animosity, something I’m more than used to.
I’m used to causing her embarrassment and exasperation, used to being the focus of her displeasure and disgust.
