Page 91 of Bound in Debt
“We’ll still hang out though, right? I feel like I never see you on campus unless you’re in class.” She arches her brow, clearly asking for an explanation.
“Oh,” I glance around at the other tables in the café, leaning forward like I’m about to spill state secrets, “about that…I’m studying to be a pastry chef. If I’m not here, I’m over at Graham for the culinary program.”
“Oh! My! God!” she squeals. “That’s amazing! If you ever need a tester?—”
“I’ve got your number,” I wink. Then a thought hits me. Dante and I still need to find a positive pregnancy test, but I know I can’t ask Ellie for help. Not only is she not pregnant, but she knows me too well to believe any lie I could invent to explain why I want one.
Bailey, on the other hand, is a new friend. She only knows what I’ve shared with her on our coffee runs after Dante’s classes.
“I’ll bring you some of whatever I make next,” I promise. “But I have sort of a weird favor to ask.”
Bailey taps her nails thoughtfully on the table. “Those are my favorite kinds of favors. What do you need?”
I lean forward and lower my voice conspiratorially. “Listen, I want to prove a point with my mom, really freak her out, you know?” Bailey nods. “I want to buy a fake pregnancy test, but it has to show a positive result.” I continue quickly before Bailey can say anything, “Do you know anyone? Or maybe know someone who knows how to fake one?”
She frowns. I’m not sure whether I’ve intrigued her or lost her.
“Well?”
Then her face splits into a shit-eating grin. “You want to fuck with your mom? I’m totally in. Give me some time and I’ll see what I can do.”
I force myself to chuckle even as I want to lay my head on the table in relief. “I never thought I’d be grateful that you got me in trouble with Professor Moretti on day one.”
“And yet, here we are.” Bailey slaps my hand in a high-five and we go our separate ways.
Maybe Dante and I can make this shit work after all.
29
DANTE
Wednesday, September 18, 9:00 PM
Fucking Victoria was a mistake. That’s what I want to keep telling myself.
I tried to keep up the mantra. And I did—until I jacked myself off to thoughts of her later that same night, the memory of her tight pussy filling my mind.
It was a bad idea.
Give that girl an inch, she’ll take a mile.
Victoria is young, reckless, and insane for marrying me, but that’s what I wanted. I wanted to protect her. I made the moves to save her from Liam when I should’ve just left on the next flight to Italy.
It’s too late to regret that shit now.
I only told her the truth. The ways I wish to ruin that girl are sinister and fucked up. And nothing else in my life is as interesting as my depraved fantasies. I can’t focus on anything long enough to do what I have to.
Which is a huge problem.
Especially since I'm with a bunch of Angelo's men, dealing with the little shithead Angelo believes may have raped his daughter.
I can’t interrogate Ryan properly to get at the truth. Not when my every thought is centered on Victoria.
There's nothing about this so-called mission that appeals to me. However, I know I need to save face and buy some time, so here I am.
And these morons are getting in my way, keeping me from accomplishing anything with any kind of finesse.
“He’s got two seconds to admit to it,” the dumbass next to me mutters. “Or I’m shooting him in the head.”
