25. Victoria
25
VICTORIA
Thursday, September 12, 10:00 AM
“What the actual hell, Vee!”
“Uh, hey, Ellie,” I smile weakly.
I knew this was coming, knew there’d be no way to avoid Ellie if I wanted to put on fresh clothes before racing to class. I successfully convinced Dante that my modern literature lecture didn’t matter, but I know he expects me to be present for his eleven o’clock.
It’d be a bad look for me to skip my secret husband’s class.
But before I can scurry off to play at being his star student, I have to face the music with my roommate.
Ha ha.
I look around the room, taking in the destruction Liam left behind when he kidnapped me. My sheets are a tangled mess on the floor, my desk chair is tipped on its side, and my purse is spilled across my desk.
“I was fucking worried! I almost called security, but then Chase texted me? He said he picked you up to get that shit you ordered and—” Ellie is pacing back and forth across the floor, anxiously twisting a chunk of hair around one finger.
“Yeah, um, about that…”
“And seriously, what are you into ? I thought we told each other everything!” She turns tear-filled eyes on me and I’m lost.
I can’t do this. I can’t keep lying to my best friend, the sister I never had.
But I have to if I want to have any chance of protecting her. The last thing I want is for Ellie to get tangled up in this mob shit with me.
“Ellie, Ellie, I’m sorry.” I feel moisture starting to gather in my own eyes and hastily blink it away. We won’t be able to have anything resembling a productive conversation if we’re both sobbing messes. Reaching out, I pull her into a tight hug. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Just let me in,” she whispers. “Let me help.”
“God—” My voice cracks and I swallow thickly. “God, I wish I could, El. But this is?—”
Ellie pulls free from my hug and scowls at me. “I can take it.”
“I know. But I still can’t tell you everything.”
“What can you tell me?” she scoffs. “What mysterious shit have you gotten into?”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But I can tell you that Liam is one hundred percent a piece of shit. That’s over. It’s done.”
My friend lets out a gusty sigh. “Well, that’s something, at least. I don’t have to pretend to tolerate him anymore?”
Now I chuckle for real. “Ellie, you never pretended to tolerate him.”
“Truer words.” She shrugs, unrepentant. “Chase didn’t really take you to pick up a new passport, did he?”
I shake my head, reaching down and fiddling with Dante’s ring on my finger, trying to think of what I can safely tell my best friend. She cares. She’s probably the only person in my life who does.
“ What is on your finger?” Ellie’s screech draws me back to myself and I hastily tuck my left hand in my pocket, but the damage is done.
“I-I can explain.”
“Bitch, you better. Tell me it’s not that fucking Moretti fuck boy.” She gasps. “Oh, it is! But you’re getting an annulment and that’s why?—”
“No!” I snap, breaking into Ellie’s chaotic rant. “No, it’s, uh…” I pause. There’s no going back from this, but maybe I can twist this somehow. Use this fucked up mess to help Dante and I resolve things.
“It’s, uh, what?” Ellie’s arms are crossed over her chest and she’s tapping her toes with impatience.
“Um, it’s actually Professor Moretti.” I wince when Ellie inhales, but she claps her own hand over her mouth to stop the shocked scream. “It’s complicated, but?—”
“Oh, I knew you were hot for teacher!” she crows. “You’ve been crushing on him since you heard his music and now he’s here and you totally let him tap it!”
At least she seems to have forgotten about her worries for my safety. Never have I been so grateful for Ellie’s romantic, fairy-tale bent. Coyly, I bite my lip and glance to the side. “Well…” I tease. “Wouldn’t you?”
Ellie’s laugh is one of those rich belly laughs that you only ever hear from real friends. “Oh, girl, absolutely!” She tilts her head and studies me. “So, wait, that ring…?” Her voice trails off and she seems oddly hesitant.
“It’s uh, just something to remind me of him. It doesn’t fit on my other fingers.” I quickly demonstrate, grateful when it turns out I’m not lying—about the ring’s fit, at least.
“Aww, who would have thought the broody professor had such a soft, squishy center?”
I shake my head, giggling. “Enough! Geeze, Ellie. I have to get to class. Can you help me find an outfit?”
“Are we aiming for prim and proper, trashy party girl, or secret slut?”
—
I’m playing with fire, but I have to admit I want to see what Professor Moretti will say when his wife slinks into class five minutes late. Peeking through the window of the door, I see that the only available seats are in the front row.
Good.
I want him to have to think about what he missed out on when he denied me this morning. Quickly, I reach my fingers up to tease a few curls loose from my single long braid. Ellie outdid herself as my stylist, tossing me a thin black turtleneck and a red lace bra to pair with a red pleated skirt that falls to my knees. The bra and top combo is genius—the knit fabric is thin enough that you can see the impression of the lace underneath and, if you look closely, you can catch a hint of the red color.
I got a nod of approval when I pulled on a pair of silvery mesh tights and sweet patent leather Mary-Janes.
I think we nailed “secret slut”.
Well, it’s now or never. I give the door a nudge and step into class, my head held high.
“Miss Waldorf, how nice of you to join us.” Will I ever stop shivering at the sound of his voice?
“Professor Moretti,” I nod.
His lips flatten into a stern line. “I believe I’ve made my feelings on punctuality clear, Miss Waldorf.”
“As crystal, Professor Moretti.” Someone in the back of the room gasps. There’s a vein jumping on Dante’s forehead.
“Are you at least prepared? I expect my first chair,” he pauses, glaring at me pointedly, “violin to be a dedicated student.”
I settle myself in the last remaining seat, directly in front of Dante’s podium, and lift my violin from its case. I lift the instrument and gesture broadly with my bow. “Would you like me to demonstrate? I believe I can handle the piece well enough.”
He sucks in a breath through his teeth, definitely not missing my double meaning. I can feel the wide-eyed stares of my classmates, but I only have eyes for our professor—my husband. His eyes flash and I know I’ve interested him.
Time to reel him in.
With a confidence I’ve ever felt before, I place my violin under my chin, take a deep breath, and begin to play.
The music he assigned last period is haunting, written in a minor key, with complex runs of notes that echo the movement of wind over the ocean. I give myself over to the melody, closing my eyes and letting the music wash over me. It calms me like nothing else, grounding me in the midst of one of the most chaotic days of my life.
My mother may be a bitch, but she did get me my first lessons, letting me find the eternal sort of love she’s never been capable of somewhere in between the strings and varnished wood of my violin.
As I finish the piece—flawlessly, I might add—I look up. Dante’s eyes are burning with something I can’t identify. He opens his mouth, but before he can say a word, I see Bailey out of the corner of my eye. She shoots me a quick thumbs up and breaks into applause. Mockingly, I bow my head, a soft grin crossing my face.
Hopefully my husband has gotten the message. I won’t be ignored.