Page 9 of Bound in Debt
My nephew.
It could be another female student, but I remember him mentioning something about summer and Victoria earlier. My curiosity overtakes my exhaustion and I can’t help but listen in.
“God, that sucks for you,” the female continues. She must be talking on the phone since I don’t hear anyone else moving or speaking. “Do you really think I give a shit about what your friends think? I’m not your side piece, Liam! I’m not going to stand idly by while you do whatever you want. I’m not blind and stupid!”
Something slams against a hard surface right next to me, and I zero in on the janitor’s closet.
It’d be a good hiding place…if you used your inside voice.
“I’m not talking about this anymore,” she yells. “Stop calling me! Tell your mother that whatever fantasy she had about us is over. And don’t show up at my dorm room again!”
A brief silence fills the hallway when Victoria’s—I think it’s her—next words actually catch me off guard.
“I wouldn’t want to be related to her anyway. She’s just an entitled socialite who married rich just so she didn’t have to work a day in her life. She looks at me like I’m some troll. I’m tired of her staring at me like I have two heads and being nice to her when she’s nothing but awful to me. She acts like you can do better, like I’m somehow beneath you. Tell her she can finally find you someone more deserving.”
Huh.
That doesn’t sound so different from the Marissa I know that it couldn’t be true. My sister-in-law is a judgy woman who thinks she’s better than the Virgin Mary herself. The most notable difference, however, is that Marissa is a whore.
I can only imagine what kind of man she’s trying to nail down so she can keep up her spending. Marco may have been a millionaire, but based on what Liam said, she’s well on her way to blowing that inheritance within a year.
The door to the janitor’s storage closet suddenly swings open, almost clipping me in the bicep, when the one and only Victoria Waldorf steps out in a tight white dress that looks too sinful to be considered appropriate for a university classroom.
There’s a slit up her thigh and white fringe stretches around her hips, teasing at the hem of the skirt. The neckline is cut dangerously low and the whole ensemble is held up by just two thin straps. I’m surprised neither one has snapped as she breathes heavily, her tits straining against the confining fabric.
“Professor Moretti,” she gasps the moment I step into view. The palm that’s still holding her sparkly cell phone covers her heart. “What are you— You scared me.”
“You always take your personal phone calls in the janitor’s closet?”
“No,” she quickly says, straightening her spine as if I’m her drill sergeant. “I was just—well, I needed privacy and my dorm is on the other side of campus.”
One of my brows ascends to the ceiling and I make a point of checking up and down the empty hallway. “Because there are so many people around to hear your conversation.”
Victoria frowns and I fight the urge to give a shit about what she’s doing or why. I don’t care if she slept in that closet, it’s not my problem.
“I got into a fight with Liam.”
Not my business, but good for you.
I continue to stare at her. As a violin professor, I’m supposed to tell her how to hold her hand, fingers, and instrument to create technically proficient music.
Not become her free therapist.
“Anyway,” she says with a sigh when I don’t respond. “That’s college, right? Boy drama and fights.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Victoria nods, blowing out her cheeks and shifting her weight. “Right. I’ll just…go talk to my best friend about it.”
I gesture to the open hallway, hoping she’ll take her leave without feeling the need to tell me anything else about why she was hiding in a closet. Unfortunately, she doesn’t move an inch.
“Is Liam…always self-centered?”
Yes.
The kid wouldn’t wipe his own ass if he could get someone else to do it. There are two maids, one for Marissa and the other for Liam. They practically do everything for them, making their meals, doing their laundry, and making sure the house is absolutely spotless. One of them even tried to clean the guest house when I arrived, but I banned them both from entering my living space. I can look after myself and I don’t need people in my things.
Somehow my nephew and sister-in-law still find a way to bitch about needing better help.
