13. Dante
13
DANTE
Tuesday, September 10
I think I broke her.
After I shared my genius plan, Victoria had no words. It was like her brain had short-circuited.
I tried my best to reassure her it wouldn’t be forever, that I wouldn’t keep her trapped in a loveless marriage, but nothing I said made a difference. Clearly, the events of last night were one shock too many and she hit her limit.
So I escorted her back to her dorm and told her we’d talk things through today.
Not that we have any time to waste.
Victoria didn’t even agree to my pragmatic proposal before locking herself in, but neither of us have much of a choice. If she doesn’t marry me, then she’s fucked.
If Liam gets his hands on her money, she’s going to be left to deal with Lombardi alone, with no allies or support. And I’ll be on a one-way trip back to Portofino, likely right back into the arms of the Giordano mob.
The only silver lining to this marriage will be cutting out a minor villain—my nephew—and handling shit with the mob our way.
Before Victoria literally ran into my arms last night, I learned that Angelo unfortunately does have some connections back in Italy. I’m not looking to bring a war down on a family that treated me as well as the Giordanos did while I served their organization. It’s never a good look to go running back to join up only for protection. It’s too desperate. Too greedy.
I’d rather deal with this myself.
With a paper cup of coffee in one hand and a shitload of sugar and creamer in my pocket, I sit on a bench outside the library. Before we parted ways, I put my number in Victoria’s phone and sent myself a text so I’d have hers. She may not have been able to talk much last night, but we made arrangements to talk things through today.
I want this meeting over and done with.
If we’re really doing this, I need to meet with Angelo today, pledge my allegiance to him, and get Victoria and I out of the States before he realizes I lied.
But I still don’t know the exact terms of her fucking trust fund. Yet.
“You’re early.”
The melodic sound of Victoria’s voice draws my attention to the sidewalk as she closes the distance to our meeting place. She’s wearing a black and white plaid skirt that hits right above her knees and black tights shield her legs from the cool morning air. A black shirt collar peeks out over her white knitted sweater. This woman is a fucking schoolgirl fantasy come to life. My blood rushes south as thoughts of lifting her skirt and bending her over a desk fill my mind.
Fuck me. This stops now .
I’m not getting involved physically or mentally with Victoria Waldorf. She’s a means to an end, although I certainly plan to treat her better than my nephew ever could.
“I brought you coffee,” I manage to get out, digging into my suit pocket for sugar and creamer packets I grabbed. I have no idea how she takes her coffee. “Take a seat.”
Victoria does what I ask—or order—slowly sitting on the opposite end of the bench. Two people could comfortably fit between us. A detail I don’t miss.
In fact, I’m sure the idea of marrying me is as appealing to her as the idea of marrying Liam. After all, I’m twice her age. And I get it. The last thing I want to do is marry a fresh-faced schoolgirl. I’ve been around the block a time or two and I’ve got no desire to tie myself to a brat.
Accepting the coffee, Victoria murmurs a thank you before popping the lid off and pouring all six of the sugar packets I grabbed into the hot beverage.
“You going to save some for the other kids?” Victoria’s blue eyes flick up to me, bloodshot and puffy. Her exhaustion is obvious as she blinks, not registering my rare attempt at a joke. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No.”
Me either.
I stayed up all night, running through all the ways we can do this, but without all the facts I couldn’t workshop any of my ideas past the half-assed stage.
“I need to know the terms of your trust, Victoria,” I request, keeping my voice calm and straightforward. “What’s the fine print?”
Victoria is silent for a moment, picking at the edge of her coffee cup as she chews lightly on her lower lip. “I was told the funds would be released when I got married. I never planned on it.”
“On what?”
“On meeting the terms.”
“Getting married?”
“Yep.” She shreds one of the empty sugar packets into tiny shreds with quick, angry motions. “I think the notion is archaic and foul. And ill-fitted to someone like me.”
My brows rise in curiosity. “What the hell does that mean?”
Victoria rolls her eyes. “Does it matter? I don’t want to marry anyone .”
“And you think that I’m just jumping for joy over the prospect of marrying a twenty-year-old who probably can’t make toast without burning it?”
She cocks her head to the side and glares at me. Obviously, she thinks I’m a massive piece of shit. But she needs to relax. It’s not as if I went out with the goal of finding a young wife I can knock up and get eight kids off of.
“Don’t underestimate me, Professor. I might just surprise you.”
“Doubtful.” I need to take back control of the conversation. We don’t have time to fuck around. “I need to meet with Angelo Lombardi tonight. And I need to know whether I can announce our impending nuptials.”
“No.”
Fucking figures.
She’s either not taking this seriously or she thinks I’m some creepy middle-aged asshole looking for a trophy wife and a quick fuck.
Either way, I’m not going to keep pushing at this if she won’t accept my offer. I’m not her father, brother, uncle, friend, or any kind of role model. If she wants to bet her future on Liam, well, good luck.
“Don’t flatter yourself by thinking this would be anything more than a marriage in name only,” I say. “I’d rather drown myself than listen to you whine about how I don’t like missionary sex.”
“Don’t do that,” she sneers. “If you die then that’s one less person for this Angelo guy to get his money from.”
Cute.
Like I said earlier, a brat and a complete pain in my ass.
“Sounds more tempting by the second, doesn’t it?”
Victoria scoffs. “I’m not going to marry a professor and become the laughing stock of the school.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. Am I too far beneath your station?”
Victoria jumps up from the bench, dropping her coffee as her hands curl into fists. I can’t help but think that the pink washing over her cheeks is the prettiest shade I’ve seen.
She looks beautiful.
A beautiful pain in my ass.
“Sit down, Victoria.”
“It’s Vee.”
“I’m not calling you that.”
“Then this conversation is over,” she retorts, kicking the paper cup and sending it spinning towards me. “I’ll talk to my parents about why Liam wants this wedding so bad and?—”
“You do that,” I agree with a sneer. “But you’ll be signing our death certificates. Because when they don’t take you seriously…” I let my voice trail off, shaking my head.
“I’m not going to die.” She points at herself as if she’s somehow above all this. “I’m going to tell my parents. They’ll call of the engagement and find someone to protect me. I might have to transfer, but?—”
A mirthless chuckle rumbles from my chest, surprising both of us. Victoria’s features soften with pity, as if she thinks I’m having a nervous breakdown, but she knows nothing about what the mob can do.
“Good luck with that, sweetheart. I bet your father will call some political hotshot he knows, or maybe call in a favor with the cops or the FBI. And as soon as that happens, Angelo will kill your parents and you and then bribe his way out of any consequences. Or daddy dearest will try to pay off the debt himself, in which case Angelo will take his money and still kill all of you as a way of tying up loose ends. Still your funeral in the end.”
“You can’t be serious. I’m not involved in this!”
“You are now that Liam claimed you publicly. Plus, you’re a socialite with ties to money. I guess this is when your status bites you in the ass.”
“But I haven’t married him!”
“You’re a liability. People normally marry each other because they have some sort of emotional attachment. The kind of attachment Angelo figures he can exploit. You’re in this now.”
“This isn’t even my debt. It has nothing to do with me.”
I rise to my feet. Begging her to do this is out of the question. I have my escape plan. I don’t want to use it, but I will. I don’t even have to go back to Portofino. Not if I’m willing to give up my life as Dante Moretti, violinist and composer. It’ll take a minute to gather up fake passports and identification, but I can work on disappearing and making something new.
“And what do you think I did to deserve this?” I ask, peering down at her. “Liam might be a jackass, but he didn’t do anything either. My brother got us into this mess, but he’s dead and I can’t beat his ass for it. If you think I’m just trying to drain your trust for myself, I can assure you, I’m not. In fact, I don’t plan on spending a dime of it.”
Victoria searches my face in disbelief. “Then what’s the point?”
“Agree to marry me and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Her nose scrunches up and now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “It’s nothing to do with you, specifically. I don’t want anyone to control me.”
“We’ll be divorced in a few weeks,” I claim. “Then you’ll be rid of me. And, in the meantime, I’m not going to tell you what to do. You’re a big girl, right?”
“You won’t be a controlling dick?”
“No.”
“Truly?”
“Absolutely.”
Her chin slowly lifts. “I want that in writing.”
“You’re a pain in the ass,” I growl, taking a step toward her. “And the answer to that is fuck no . We are not creating a paper trail. I don’t want anyone finding out about this.”
“What about Liam?”
I raise a brow. Since when does she give a shit about that kid? “Do you want to marry him instead?”
“No,” she immediately replies. “But I don’t think he’ll make it easy. If I marry you, then what?”
“Active listening, princess. Practice. I already told you I won’t tell you shit until I know we’re in this together.”
“Liam will never let this happen. He’ll make a huge deal about it. You saw what he did with the engagement.’
“I’m not afraid of my nephew.”
“I am, though,” she finally admits, and finally, I catch a glimpse of an actual reason why she’s not totally on board yet. “He can be petty and vindictive and he knows my schedule, my routine. I have plans, but they’re becoming bleaker every passing second.”
I can see how passionate she is about keeping to the path she’s chosen for herself. I mean, the girl climbed out of a window and dangled from a tree to avoid her own engagement party. It may have been stupid, but it was also courageous. Especially for a woman born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
“My goal isn’t to keep you from living those dreams, Victoria. It’s for you to be able to still have them.”
She gapes at me as if I’ve announced that I’m a vigilante swooping in to save her. Really, though, I’m saving myself.
“How are you related to Liam?”
I frown. “I’m his uncle.”
“No,” she says, shaking her head back and forth, “you’re either an incredible actor or you’re genuinely nothing like him. It doesn’t make sense.”
“The mysteries of genetics.” The hairs on the back of my neck lift and I look over her head, searching for the source of the unsettling feeling.
My fucking nephew.
“Speaking of, he’s coming over here right now,” I warn her, keeping my face relaxed. “Play it cool. Go along with the bullshit.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“You’re my ticket out of here. And I’m taking you with me.”
“No, you won’t,” she accuses under her breath. “You can’t stand me.”
Reaching for her hand, I lace my fingers with hers and look down into those mesmerizing eyes. “I promise. I won’t leave your side. You have no reason to trust me and I could fuck you over just as fast as Liam will. But I’m not looking for bad karma. I served my time, Victoria.”
“But—” I release her fingers just as Liam rounds her body to stand between us, making an awkward triangle. In his wrinkled green university sweatshirt, his hair mussed, he looks like he just rolled out of bed.
“Uncle Dante,” he greets flatly, visibly displeased to find me with his supposed fiancée. “How’s it going?”
“Things would be better if Miss Waldorf would work on her finger positioning,” I grumble, since Liam doesn’t know the first thing about musicianship and therefore can’t question my bullshit. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
Liam’s brows snap together. “No. I came to take Victoria to breakfast.”
Talk about attempts to control a person—Liam is clearly trying to assess the situation and get Victoria to fall in line. Too bad my nephew already blew it. Victoria doesn’t seem like the sort of woman to forgive and forget.
The woman in question takes a deep breath as I glance down at her. “Make sure she isn’t late for my class. Refer to the syllabus, Miss Waldorf, if you’re unclear on my policy regarding tardiness.”
Then I take my leave and walk to the music building.
Victoria had better pick the right Moretti man if she wants to survive Angelo Lombardi.
Because I fight.
And Liam runs.