8. Victoria
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.
My mother isn’t the kind of woman to value her daughter’s independence. She wanted to mold me in her image, to be dependent on a man to care for me, to put aside my own desires and support him in his goals. I was supposed to devote my life to being pretty, kind, and submissive to my mother and my husband—likely in that order.
My father has never bothered to share his opinion on such things.
He’s always left anything to do with me up to my mother. He’s never once disagreed with how she speaks to me or how she treats me. I’m her problem. Maybe if I’d been born a boy, things would have been different.
“There you are,” a feminine voice coos. I snap my focus to Marissa as she saunters over in a sparkly silver dress that hugs her thin frame, a fake smile plastered on her heavily contoured face.
She hates me.
And she doesn’t seem capable of hiding that fact.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she says as she reaches Mom and me.
“Why?”
Mom steps forward, thrusting her elbow into my left boob before clasping both of Marissa’s hands tightly. “The party is beautiful. You’ve outdone yourself again.”
Liam’s mother chuckles. “Thank you, Carol. I wanted nothing less than the best for our children on their special night.”
Red flag.
Red flag.
Red! Flag!
“Special night?” I question aloud, causing both women to immediately turn their focus to me. “And what’s the occasion?”
Marissa shoots a glance at my mother who responds with an eyeroll. “Victoria, I swear, if you don’t stop teasing me…”
Her voice is a sharp, thin trill. And I all too easily put the pieces together, why she wanted me dressed to the nines for another of Marissa’s stupid parties.
We’ve been arguing since the start of the summer about one thing.
An engagement to Liam Moretti.
Marissa sends me a weak grin. “We’re so happy to have you, Victoria. I’ve always wanted a daughter.”
“Mom,” I hedge. “Can we talk?”
“No time,” she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Marissa, do you have a gown my daughter can borrow? She lost track of time at the football game and didn’t have a chance to change.”
“Of course.” Marissa extends a hand. “Come with me and I’ll see what we can find that suits.”
Bullshit.
My tits are bigger than hers and they aren’t my only curves. There’s no possible way that I’ll manage to fit into any of her clothing without looking obscene.
Marissa drops her hand when I leave her hanging, moving quickly towards the main stairs. I’ve never been upstairs, but I know the family suites are situated on the third floor. When I hesitate to follow, my mother pokes one sharp fingernail into my spine.
“If you don’t go with her,” she whispers into my ear, “I will pull you from that school tonight . Do you hear me?”
Not bothering to respond, I catch up to Marissa on the stairs. Her home is exquisite. From the polished and dark hardwood floors to the pristine chandeliers hanging overhead, the whole place manages to exude money, elegance, and dignity despite the house’s mistress. Any other girl at Thronewood University might fantasize about marrying into the Moretti family, but I’m certainly not interested.
I absolutely refuse to marry Liam, even if it means leaving school and fending for myself until my trust fund kicks in.
“This way,” Marissa states, leading me to the biggest bedroom I’ve ever seen and gestures to her expansive closet. “Feel free to take whatever you want. When you get downstairs?—”
“I can’t marry your son,” I blurt out. “We’re not together anymore. I’m not sure if he told you?—”
“He told me you were being difficult. Childish, even.” Her brows arch and she looks down her nose at me. “I can assure you, Victoria…this is in your best interest as well as Liam’s. You can make him into a good man. He seems to like you well enough.”
“That’s not enough for me. I caught him with another girl at a party he invited me to, in front of all our friends. I’d say that’s blatant disrespect. Not affection.”
Marissa takes a step forward and doesn’t hide the fact that she’s pissed. “Men are pigs, Victoria. Nobody gets a fairytale ending. Men just want as much pussy as they can get their grubby hands on. So, do what any smart woman would do and use him back. Liam has a good name. A name that will be yours. Your children will have all the best opportunities, every advantage. Together, you and my son will be able to conquer anything.”
She’s giving Liam far too much credit.
He isn’t the brightest crayon in the box, for one.
And, two, I’m not going to settle.
For anyone.
I don’t care about my mother’s threats. I will not be forced to become another shackled socialite.
“What are you planning for tonight?” I ask because, obviously, I’m in the dark here. “I’d like to be prepared.”
“Your mother didn’t tell you?” I shake my head, refusing to back down and daring Marissa to do exactly what my mother does.
Ignore everything I want, everything I say.
“We’re announcing your engagement tonight.”
I nearly bite my tongue to hold back a sharp retort, bowing my head in false submission. A quick clapback may make me feel better, but silence is what will get Marissa out of the room.
“Get dressed,” she orders as she makes her exit. “We’ll be waiting downstairs. I expect you to pick something appropriate and smile like you mean it. Convince our guests you’re looking forward to becoming a Moretti.”
You’re going to be waiting a long time.
I pause and listen for the click of the door closing before curling my hands into tight fists. How fucking dare they assume that I’ll just bow down and follow their orders like a lapdog when this is my life? My mother should want more for me. She should wish for me to be loved and cared for by a man who won’t shove his tongue down someone else’s throat at the reception.
I contemplate following orders long enough to get through the party and bide my time until I find another way forward. But I’m not publicly getting engaged tonight.
I’m not getting engaged at all.
Pacing the room, I try to think of a plan for my escape. The stairs are off limits since I’m sure my mom or Marissa will be waiting at the bottom.
Which leaves the bedroom window.
Striding toward it, I peer outside. There aren’t any trees within reach, but there is a drainpipe.
Shit.
Would I rather break my neck or get engaged to Liam Moretti?
Break my neck.
Shoving the window up and open, I pop the screen out easily enough and almost have a heart attack at how high I am and how thin the drainpipe is.
There’s no way I’m James Bond-ing down a drain pipe.
Dead end.
My pulse races, each second that ticks by bringing me that much closer to getting caught. Neither my mom nor Marissa seem inclined to wait patiently for my return to the party.
Desperate, I look to the side and see that the next window over has a strong-looking tree growing right alongside it. Quickly, I slip out of Marissa’s bedroom, down the hall, and into the room next door. I don’t bother turning on the lights, using the moon’s silvery light to guide me around the furniture.
I repeat the process of opening and de-screening the window, glad to see I can easily grab a tree limb from the windowsill. As I trust all my weight to the branch, I climb out while holding my breath, praying I don’t fall. Pressing myself against the trunk, I realize that I can’t put the screen back in place from the outside. I reassure myself that someone would have figured things out even if I had closed the window up perfectly.
My mother will be furious. I wonder how long I have until she calls Thronewood’s finance office to cancel my tuition payments. I have no idea how she will get her money back, but I’m learning never to underestimate my mother when it comes down to her getting what she wants. For all I know, she’ll let them keep the money and have them name another building after my family.
Carefully, I climb down the tree, and I’m about halfway to the ground when a male voice startles me, breaking my concentration on my escape.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
My foot slips but I’m able to grab the limb I’m holding to keep from falling. I hear a muttered curse as Professor Moretti once again directs his irritation to me. “Let go, Victoria. I’ve got you.”
Hell no.
I can’t trust him not to kick me out of his class. Why would I trust him with my life?
“I got it,” I reply, my voice strained from the effort of supporting my entire bodyweight with my arms. Ignoring Professor Moretti, I try to swing my leg up, back to where it was before.
“Victoria,” he warns me. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“All the better for you, right?” The toe of my sneaker snags at the bark of the tree. Almost…there… I clench my teeth and focus. “Don’t…worry…about me.”
“My family doesn’t need to deal with a lawsuit when you bust your ass.”
“Oh, well…” I tsk. “Turn around and you won’t have to….watch me…fall.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters before I feel him tugging at my ankle. “Let go, Victoria.”
My fingers begin to slip as he throws off my balance and I squeal in frustration. Why did he have to get involved? He could’ve just kept on walking.
“Victoria—” I finally lose my grip and I’m free-falling toward the stone pavers until I’m stopped by a pair of thick arms. The smell of patchouli and cigars fills my nostrils.
Slowly, I glance up at Professor Moretti’s face. He’s scowling daggers at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” he grunts. “Have you never heard of doors?”
I wiggle my feet, signaling for him to put me down. He ignores me. “I’m trying to run away.”
“What?”
As much as I wish he’d catch the hint and stop holding me like a distressed damsel—which I wasn’t before he inserted himself in my daring escape—Professor Moretti doesn’t release me. “Would you please let me down?”
“You’re bleeding.”
Glancing down at my hands, I see that my left palm is pretty torn up from the tree, with scratches and likely splinters criss-crossing the skin. A bit of blood wells in the deepest of the cuts. “It’s fine. I’ll fix it up at my dorm?—”
“You can fix it up in the guest house,” he replies cooly. “C’mon.” He begins to walk toward the dark building in the backyard next to the pool, still carrying me. I attempt to wiggle out of his grasp again. “ Stop moving around.”
“I need to get out of here,” I snap angrily. “And you’re messing it up.”
“How?”
“Because my mother— Never mind. Can you please let me go?”
He continues to ignore me, opening up the door one-handed and flicking the lights on. As I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness, I glimpse navy blue walls decorated with nautical-themed pictures. Finally, Professor Moretti sets me down on the couch and pins me with a stern glower.
“Stay there.”
This man…
I’m not sure where he gets off ordering me around, but I’ve had just about enough of it for tonight.
I wait for him to traipse through the small living space and disappear into a bathroom before I slowly stand and begin inching toward the door.
But the moment my palm touches the knob, a loud and startling knock shakes the door in its frame.
My spine immediately hits the wall like I’m some sort of secret agent and Professor Moretti comes out of the bathroom. His eyes turn into murderous slits when he notices how close I am to the front door.
There’s another knock, followed by Liam calling out, “Uncle Dante, are you in there?”
The back of my skull thunks lightly against the wall. Professor Moretti is going to rat me out, I know it. And I know exactly what Liam is looking for.
Me.
My mother and Marissa gave me less than ten minutes to get ready before looking for me. They must have seen the window. And thanks to Professor Moretti, any chance I had to get away is long gone.
“What do you want?” Professor Moretti shouts back, not bothering to open the door just yet. “I’m about to take a shower.”
“I’m looking for Victoria. Have you seen her?”
I turn pleading eyes on my professor. I’ve been a pain in his ass and this is the perfect opportunity for him to be rid of me. Silently, I beg him not to give me up. I know he doesn’t owe me anything, but if he hands me over to Liam, I’m done for.
“Hold on,” Professor Moretti calls out before reaching for the hem of his black button-up shirt, lifting it over his head.
Holy shit.
Tan skin, sculpted muscles, black tattoos inked all over the planes of his chest… Professor Moretti is a man of many mysteries, but Bailey was right, he’s fucking hot.
I stop breathing when he erases the space between us, leaning close and reaching to place his index finger to his lips. I suddenly can’t focus on anything except how close his lips are to mine, how my tits would feel brushing against his chest if I dared to arch my back. I can feel my nipples pebble and my panties growing damp in sheer lust for my teacher.
The teacher who hates me.
The teacher who I wish I could’ve met under different circumstances.
The teacher that clearly has some issues.
Red flag.
But my body doesn’t care and my traitorous eyes can’t help but stare at this man and his glorious muscles.