Page 5 of Bound in Debt
Liam’s nostrils flare. The entire left side of his face is red and angry, matching my own feelings about the tattered remnants of my brother’s legacy.
“Now,” I order, earning an arrogant scowl before Liam retreats from my classroom, giving me exactly what I’ve wanted this whole damn time.
To be left alone with my misery.
2
VICTORIA
“It’s not that serious, Vee. Chill out.”
Easy for my best friend, Eleanor—Ellie—St. John, to say when the most notorious musician to ever play the violin just kicked me out of his classroom and dismissed my skills as mediocre—implication: abysmal. And he threatened to cancel the entire class rather than teach it.
That would truly be a crime.
The violin has always been a safe haven for me, a way to express myself growing up that was at least tolerable in my mother’s eyes. She’s always had rigid ideas about what sort of hobbies and dreams are and aren’t acceptable for me to pursue.
Music may not be my entire life, but it certainly saved it.
And for Dante Moretti to criticize my art? It’s yet another person telling me I’ve only been fooling myself into thinking I have any talents, any value beyond the money my parents raised me with.
I never planned to make the violin my career, but I still love it. I love the challenge of writing music and being a source of joy and comfort to an audience.
The only audience my mother ever imagined for me was some sort of committee made up of ladies who lunch, a crowd of monied women pretending to give a shit about something other than themselves. My entire life, I’ve been told that I’m to marry, have a family, and continue the legacy of power associated with the Waldorf name. I grew up in privilege, went to the best schools, and I even have a trust fund waiting for me. It requires me to actually marry some entitled frat boy with a gilded name. My father is adamant that I give him a male heir for his company, something my mother failed to provide him with. Quote—You need to keep having kids until you birth a boy.
Unfortunately for him, I gave up on ever touching that money years ago. And I definitely don’t plan on becoming a baby-making machine just so he can have a grandson.
I’m actually kind of hoping I only ever have daughters, just to spite him.
However, having children is so far down the list of things I want to do in my life that he might die first.
And, while I don’t expect the violin to make me any sort of money, it’s a comfort I refuse to give up.
“C’mon, get dressed.” Ellie tugs me off my bed by my wrist and drags me to our shared closet. Not only are we the same size, we have similar styles. We lost track of what belongs to who ages ago. “Pick anything you like.”
“I don’t want to go.”
The words slip freely from my mouth, not because of what Professor Moretti said, but because I don’t wish to waste my night on expensive liquor and trap music. The time would be better spent studying at the local Starbucks, riding a coffee buzz while I catch up on my mountain of class work. Thronewood’s fall term is just getting started, but I started some extra classes at Graham Community College two weeks ago.
“Wait, what do you mean?” Ellie crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me. Her beautiful sandy blonde hair cascades over her pink bra and ivory shoulders.
I love my best friend with a passion. We’ve been attached at the hip since the tenth grade, when her family moved from L.A. to the East Coast.
She knows me better than anyone, but she refuses to accept that I’m not a party girl. According to her, I’m all work and no play and it’s about time I learn to live it up. Her green eyes spark with a familiar determination to get me to relax, act our age.
Maybe I should.
The other girls at Thronewood aren’t staying in their dorms reading books and playing the violin until their roommate threatens to break it.
Ellie can get violent when she’s too hungry or overtired.
“Liam is going to be there,” I explain. “And I pretty much told him to get lost earlier today.” Ellie’s brows knit, silently begging for more details. “He’s on that marriage kick again.”
“Ew.” Ellie’s face scrunches up like she ate sour candy. “What’s wrong with him? Liam Moretti is the biggest fuck boy on campus. No offense, but why would he want to marry you?”
“I don’t know, but he’s starting to get aggressive about it. And we’ve—I wouldn’t even consider it dating. He only calls when he wants sex and?—”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve been giving it to him.” I pinch my lips into a fine line. I have. Hey, a girl’s got needs. Liam’s definitely a fuck boy, but he can be oddly thoughtful.
