Page 10 of Bound in Debt
“I’d tell you to go speak to his mother, but you don’t seem like a fan.”
Victoria’s lips part and her eyes widen. “You eavesdropped,” she accuses.
“You have the stealthiness of a fog horn, Miss Waldorf,” I reply flatly. “People probably heard you on the other side of campus.”
She blushes furiously and I can’t say I hate the soft pink color flooding her cheeks and spanning the bridge of her nose. Her freckles are thrown into sharp relief by the flush. “I’ll remember that next time.”
“Focus on school,” I tell her, trying to sound like a teacher.
“Obviously.” She rolls her eyes. “If I don’t, I’ll end up turning into a Stepford wife like everyone else here.”
“And that would be bad?”
Victoria clenches her jaw and stares past me, focusing on some spot on the far wall. “Contrary to popular belief, Professor Moretti, not every girl at Thronewood wants to earn her M-R-S degree. Some of us have other plans. Ones that don’t include long wedding dresses and popping out babies within a year of saying ‘I do’. It’s the twenty-first century, women don’t need men anymore.”
“I can think of a few reasons why we’d still be useful.”
Her attention slices back to me and all traces of her embarrassment are gone. I meant orgasms. Victoria clearly thinks I meant something more misogynistic, based on her fire-breathing expression. She looks ready to rip my dick off.
“You would,” she bites out. “I guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree since you’re related to Liam. That Moretti entitlement is absolutely suffocating. It’s not an attractive look.”
“I can assure you that we’re not the same.”
“I beg to differ.”
“And when I start giving a fuck, I’ll let you know.” Victoria’s jaw drops. I’ve probably crossed a line using that kind of language with a student. I’m sure there are plenty of other rules I’ve broken since accepting the job, but I’d have to give two shits to consider changing my behavior. “You’re dismissed, Miss Waldorf. I’ll not be walking you back to your dorm.”
“How chivalrous of you,” she sneers. “But I can assure you that of the two of us, I’m the more dangerous.”
Cocking my head to the side, I find myself reluctantly intrigued by this feisty little brunette that somehow thinks she has a leg-up over me. “Are you? Tell me, are you going to strangle me with your trust fund? Or will you run to the dean whining about how I didn’t kiss your ass or hold your hand while you fought with a boy? A boy you shouldn’t have been messing with in the first place?”
“Funny, he said the same thing about you.”
“Well, Liam’s always been intimidated by other men. I can only imagine why. His inability to deliver anything more exciting than lackluster sex is probably one reason.”
“Are you seriously talking to me like this? Not only is it inappropriate, but?—”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Miss Waldorf,” I calmly interrupt. “I hold the cards here. I can have you removed from my class. After all, I just met you earlier today and I’ve already caught you trespassing in my classroom and now I’ve found you drunk and undera?—”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Prove it.” Victoria glares daggers at me, but keeps quiet. Neither of us has a breathalyzer handy to prove our point. “Checkmate, Miss Waldorf. Now…run along and get back to your room. Our first class is Monday and I would hate for you to miss it because you partied too hard this weekend. I don’t tolerate tardiness. It’s grounds for expulsion from my class. I only accept the best of the best when it comes to my time and my students. You already have enough working against you.”
Victoria raises her haughty little chin and marches down the deserted corridor. Each step is a clear “fuck you” for telling her what to do and not caving into her wants. I’ll be damned if I let her use me and my position as Liam’s uncle to make things go her way.
She’s too good for the little prick anyway.
And that’s saying a lot.
I decide to spend a bit longer in the music building, just so it doesn’t look like I’m stalking the ever-so-annoying Miss Waldorf, and pivot toward my classroom. What I really need is a fucking drink. From now on, I’ll make sure to have a bottle of Campari in my desk for these sorts of occasions. Class hasn’t even begun and these college kids are already a pain in my ass. I don’t know how I’m going to keep from killing one of them.
Not bothering to turn the lights on, I stride toward the front of the room, only for the fluorescent lights to flick on and reveal a heavy-set man in an all-black suit sitting in my chair.
He’s not a kid.
Definitely not a teacher, since he’s sucking casually on a thick cigar and looking a bit too smug about sitting at my desk. He’s managed to make himself at home and is acting like I’ve entered his domain.
My skin pricks at the back of my neck as I look over my shoulder to find two other dudes on either side of the door I just entered through. Both have their arms crossed over their chests, meaty biceps flexing against dark shirts.
