26. Victoria
26
VICTORIA
Wednesday, October 9, 3:50 PM
I stare into a pair of cold eyes that are all too familiar. I can’t say I’ve missed being the focus of this particular look.
It feels like I haven’t seen my mother in a million years. She’s dressed to the nines in a Dior dress that hits just below her knees, the pale ivory material making her look warmly maternal. A stranger passing on the street couldn’t be blamed for thinking she’s been a loving, positive presence for the entirety of my life.
We’d both know that impression for a lie.
“The dean told me you haven’t been attending your classes at Thronewood. He said you’ve been running around with that… professor.”
I don’t immediately respond to her thinly veiled scolding. What does she care? Not once in the last few weeks has she tried to call me to see if I was okay. No, my mother has been MIA through all of the Liam and Lombardi bullshit. Right up until she stormed into the registrar’s office while I was in the middle of sorting out my academic records and deciding how best to proceed with my education.
“I fail to see how my attendance is your problem,” I respond, matching her glare with my own. Her eyes narrow into crystalline slits at my not-so-polite dismissal.
“I’m concerned.”
“About?”
My mother looks heavenward, clicking her red-lacquered nails across the laminate table. Her mouth twists in distaste and she stills her fingers, carefully lifting the chipped mug in front of her. It’s obvious she has absolutely no desire to be here. I don’t think my mother has ever deigned to enter any of Thronewood’s campus buildings, with the notable exception of the dean’s historic mansion. She didn’t even come to my dorm room for freshman move in, choosing to gossip in the quad with the other mothers about the latest scandal at the country club.
Insisting that I wouldn’t speak to her anywhere except my favorite greasy-spoon diner next to the Thronewood campus—the one that’s open twenty-four hours a day and serves the most incredible caramel apple pie—was probably petty of me. I thought she was going to walk right back out to her car when she realized that the only tea they serve here is the kind that comes in little yellow pouches. Honestly, knowing how miserable she is makes my slice of pie taste even sweeter.
Dante’s rubbing off on me.
My cheeks flush at the thought. Today’s the first day Dante’s let me out of the house. He’s barely let me out of bed. My whole vow of celibacy thing lasted all of two hours. That man sure knows how to fuck me right.
Even thinking of him is enough to get me wet, and I quickly refocus on my mother’s continuing diatribe before I completely lose my mind.
“If you’re going to throw your life away for a nobody,” she declares, “you at least need a backup plan. Your trust will hold you over… Unless you were ignorant enough to not get a prenup?”
I quirk a brow, trying not to laugh. How is any of this her problem? I’m married, which is all she ever wanted me to be. “Anything else?”
“Your father will be returning from Hong Kong on Saturday. I’ve managed to shield most of your poor decisions of late from his attention, but you’ll have to face him at some point.”
“What do you mean? You haven’t told him I got married?”
“Absolutely not. Your father was against the idea from the start. He never cared much for Liam, and, well…” She waves a hand as if to erase all that I’ve been through since Liam started hounding me to exchange vows.
My jaw drops. I know I look a fool, but I can’t help it, I’m stunned. My mother made it sound as if my father wanted the marriage as much as she did. This is what I get for not calling him myself when everything started to go sideways. Maybe if I’d asked dear Dad for help from the beginning, things might not have gone off the rails.
I’d never have been threatened by Angelo’s men.
Never have been kidnapped by Liam.
Never have been auctioned by Angelo.
Never would have married Dante…
“Bring Mr. Moretti to dinner. I’ll need to…” She sighs, as though just having this conversation is too much for her. “He and your father will need to be properly introduced.”
“I’m sorry to say we simply don’t have the time,” I state evenly. “I have a lot of catching up to do, after all.”
“It’s the weekend, Victoria.”
“Congratulations, Mother, you can read a calendar. That’s no small feat, considering how busy you are meddling in other people’s lives.”
She scoffs haughtily and pushes back her perfectly curled hair. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re the one going about ruining things. You broke Liam’s heart and now his mother can’t find him anywhere. She’s concerned, to put it mildly.”
I feel the blood drain from my face, but I sit straight and focus on taking calming breaths. “Liam never loved me.”
“He wanted to marry you.”
“He wanted to marry me for my trust fund. The one you so kindly informed him of.”
My mother glowers at me. “That’s a rude and petty thing to say, Victoria. The Morettis have no need for your money. They’re well-established, with an impeccable reputation, and certainly their accounts are healthy.”
I could spill the truth, tell her everything that’s happened, but that can of worms is better left unopened. My mother would more than likely take whatever I tell her to the police, all too happy to throw Dante under the bus as the cold-blooded killer who corrupted her precious daughter.
Money talks, and she knows exactly what strings to pull to make the local authorities dance to her tune.
She’d have my husband in jail by the end of the day.
So, that leaves me playing the role of the spoiled princess that’s turned her back on her mother. I don’t mind acting the part of bad daughter.
None of this will matter in the long run.
I plan to work my ass off to finish my culinary program as soon as possible. I won’t be around for much longer. Dreams change and my newest hope for the future is finally taking shape. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting my mother get within ten feet of Dante.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I tell her. “But I’m happy with how things have worked out. I won’t be bringing my husband to dinner this weekend. Like I said, I’m busy.”
She bares her teeth, leaning forward and hissing at me under her breath. “You stupid girl. You could’ve had it all. A life of luxury and influence. Instead, you’ve wasted your potential, thrown away everything I gave you, just to be with a professor.”
“He’s not just a professor, mom. He’s a man . One who fucks me royally every single—” My mother’s hand whips against my face, the impact hard enough to have my head snapping back against the hard plastic booth.
I can’t deny that I baited her.
No regrets .
It’s about time she learned that she doesn’t control me. Not anymore. And I’m not going to apologize for making sure she knows that I’ve been getting dicked down better than she ever has.
The lack of decent sex is probably why she has that stick shoved up her ass.
“You disgusting little whore,” she snarls, literally spitting mad. But her disapproval is nothing new to me. “You think he’ll keep you? He’s going to take your money and run. Men like him don’t waste their time with inexperienced little girls. That devil saw an opportunity and took it. Are you really so stupid that you can’t see what your future will be?”
“No,” I reply instantly. “He’s the most loyal, protective man I know.”
“I stand by what I said. You need to leave him before he leaves you. Get yourself a lawyer and get rid of this common thief who’ll take you for everything you have.”
“Pass.”
My mother’s face flushes an unflattering shade of red and, I swear, I see a vein bulging in her temple. She looks to be on the verge of an enraged fit. “You’re going to regret this. Don’t you dare come crawling back to me when he’s left you in the gutter like the worthless piece of trash you are.”
Ouch.
Her words may have actually hurt if I cared what my mother thought of me. But I stopped worrying about her bitchy judgement years ago. There’s nothing she can do or say to make me change my mind about how I plan to live my life or who I’ll live it with.
In fact, her words only make me more eager to leave the country as soon as I can manage it.
“Thanks for stopping by,” I say dismissively, gesturing to the door. “I’ll get the check. Try not to shrivel into dust in the sun.”
She scowls at me before rising from the booth, snapping her leather handbag over her shoulder. Each click of her heels against the linoleum floors is a promise that she’ll never change. She’ll never understand me. Never love me. She will always be the most hateful, spiteful woman I’ve ever known.
I’m grateful that despite our biological connection, I was blessed with enough sense to become something more than a carbon copy of her.
My mother’s startled oomph draws my attention away from the spoon I’m swirling through the dregs of my coffee and back to her.
Well, back to where Dante is looming in the doorway of the diner, blocking her exit.
He’s staring down his nose at her, as if she’s the biggest piece of shit he’s ever smelled. His eyes are empty of all emotion and he’s eerily still.
My husband must have heard something.
Probably at least part of our little tiff.
Or maybe he’s just pissed that she’s here, talking to me in the first place, when he knows she must have ambushed me. I would have told him if I’d planned on speaking to her today. He probably would have told me not to bother.
All in all, my mother has met her match.
“Mrs. Waldorf,” Dante grinds out flatly. “Are you lost?”
My mouth curves into a smile and I quickly close a hand over my lips in case she looks to me for help.
Although I don’t know why she would. It’s not as though she deserves any support from me.
“You’re Mr. Moretti,” my mother announces stupidly.
“Last time I checked.” His gaze flicks up and over my mother’s head, seeking me out. I know he’s studying my face for any hint as to how I’m feeling. Whether she’s managed to upset me.
I’m fine. More than.
I shrug in an attempt to assure him there’s nothing to worry about.
“Why does my wife have a red handprint on her cheek?” Dante’s eyes recenter on Mother Dearest. “Do you want to die?”
Oh shit.
Stepping forward, my mother squares up with Dante and it’s clear she thinks she’s ready to go to war with the devil.
But she doesn’t know who my husband is. Not really. She thinks he makes pretty music and lectures college students. She has no idea he belonged to an infamous Italian mob. Has no idea that he’s killed for me.
That he loves me.
“Mother, you were just leaving,” I remind her. “There’s no need to cause a scene.”
“How dare you interfere with my daughter’s engagement. Her engagement to your nephew , no less,” she scolds, ignoring me entirely.
“You obviously don’t know how to read a room,” Dante replies. “That or you just don’t give a shit about what happens to your daughter .” He sneers the last word, making it obvious he doesn’t think she has any right to call herself my mother.
“Victoria knew what was expected of her. What was best for her.”
“So I guess a would-be rapist is what you wanted for her? The kid who tried to rape her was the best partner she could have?”
Dante…
I pluck a handful of cash from my purse and throw it on the table before quickly moving to stand between Dante and my mother. I shift my body, creating enough space that my mother can step through the door and be on her merry way.
“Have a good evening,” I tell her. “I can’t say it’s been a pleasure.”
“What is he talking about?” she asks, pinning me with a look of fury and disgust. “What lies have you been feeding him?”
I roll my eyes. Of course she’s blaming me. In her world, boys from good families—boys like Liam—can do no wrong. I’m truly the spawn of Satan. “Enough of them so that he’d marry me, mom. Now, take care,” I say with a toothy grin.
She gawks at me, and it’s as if she’s realizing for the first time that she has no idea who I am. With a huff, she finally stomps out into the parking lot and slides into her sassy little convertible. My husband and I watch from under the diner’s awning until she’s out of sight.
I’m sure she’ll find some way to bitch at me again for not living the life she designed for me. It’s not the last time I’ll go at it with my mother, assuming I keep in touch.
Dante’s fingers wrap around my wrist, yanking me around to the back corner of the building, out of view of the windows and the main parking lot. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he’s slamming me back against a metal storage door. At least, I hope it’s just a storage door and not an employee exit.
His mouth finds the column of my throat with my next blink, and I practically melt.
“I need you,” he growls, tasting my skin with his tongue and grinding himself into my hips, pinning me in place.
“We’re outside,” I almost whisper. “Anyone might see.”
“How quickly can you come?”
My lips part to answer, to tell him that I’m so freaking close it won’t matter, but he’s already lifting me in the air and sliding the fabric of my dress up my thighs.
I chose this dress on purpose, knowing the floaty mint-green sundress would provide easy access for whatever my husband might want to do to me. Dante promised to take me out on a date tonight—his suggestion—and I am more than ready to forget about my mother and discover what he has planned.
“Did she hit you?”
Damn it, I knew he’d ask.
“It’s fine. It didn’t—” Dante’s teeth sink into my shoulder and I wince a bit at the sharpness of his bite.
“It’s not fine,” he retorts sharply. “If anyone touches you again, I’m breaking their arm. I don’t care who they are.”
I bob my head, helpless to argue when my need is a fire in my blood. “Okay.”
My husband goes back to making out with my neck while he peels my panties to the side. I didn’t even realize he had unzipped himself until I feel the velvet tip of his cock rubbing against my clit.
“Did you miss me, princess?”
I smile.
It hasn’t even been five hours since I last saw him. But miss him, I have. I miss him every second we’re not together, and it’s disgustingly apparent.
“I’m not sure,” I tease. “How about you remind me what I was missing?”
Dante doesn’t need any more encouragement, driving into me. My ass hits the door with a jerk and he continues to pound into me, rattling the poor egress.
We don’t talk with words, instead using our bodies to communicate what we’re feeling. I think we’re both tired of discussing everything around us, all the trials and tribulations we’ve had to face. This afternoon apart gave me some much needed thinking space I’ve been able to reflect on how things might have gone differently. On how I want to handle moving on.
I still want Dante in my life and at my side—that hasn’t changed.
But the timeline for our international relocation may need to move up. I know Dante spent the afternoon with Enzo, exploring our options, but I’m not sure where things stand in terms of Angelo’s organization. The uncertainty is why I couldn’t tell my advisor for sure whether I would be re-enrolling at Thronewood or withdrawing. Why I still haven’t called Graham to figure out how to adjust the timeline for my culinary program.
I have the digital files outlining the credit transfer and transcript request policies for both schools saved on my phone, front and center under the weather display.
But none of that matters in this moment.
Right now, my husband is fucking my brains out and making love to my neck. He knows how much it drives me wild. That I love the lashing of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth. The thought of wearing his marks with pride has me on the edge of climax. I’m sure he’s aware that he could finish me off just like this.
You were right, Mom. I am easy.
“I’m going to come, princess. This tight little cunt is squeezing me to death.”
I rock forward, my lips brushing the outer shell of his ear. “Come,” I whisper, and I can feel the shiver that runs through his body. “Own me, Dante.”
He turns his head around to look down at me, his coffee-rich eyes filled with hunger and raw need. My own delighted shiver causes me to tremble in his arms. “You own me, sweetheart. Milk my cock, take what you want, and I’ll come for you.”
“I’m almost there.”
“Good.” He rests his palm along my ass and slips one long finger between my cheeks. “Because later…I’m going to show you a few other things I like.”
Holy—
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry, but I’m so freaking turned-on that I can’t help but ask, “Like what?”
“You’re gonna take my cock in that pretty mouth and suck me so sweetly… You’ll swallow every drop I give you. And then, after, I’ll start preparing this ass.”
“Preparing…” I moan.
His lips curl in a sinister smirk. “You wanted anal, right baby? You’re so hungry for my cock all the time. Can’t get enough of it.” He nuzzles my temple, one hand twisting into my hair and holding me close. “I warned you I would give you the full experience. Show you everything I need from a forever wife.”
I want all of that.
So much.
I want to see and feel everything he can give me. All the dirty and dark fantasies he wants to live out with me. To become his most beloved toy.
I am here for all of it.
“Thinkin’ about backing out, princess?”
I shake my head in blunt denial. There isn’t anything that could make me turn from him. Not now. “Absolutely not. Do your worst, Moretti.”
His thumb brushes along my cheekbone. “You have no idea what I want to do to you, princess. Everything I’ve dreamed about doing… I’m obsessed with making each one a reality.”
The way he’s staring at me in this moment, this cool and collected killer with the darkest fantasies… I’m so completely entranced by him.
Every long, purposeful glide of his cock binds me to him. Nothing will ever make me leave his arms.
“I want to live them all,” I whisper, darting my tongue out to lick his thumb as he traces my jaw. “Every one of your fantasies. Please make me come, Dante. I need it. I’m so close.”
“Are you?” He drops his hand from my face and reaches down to slide his palm along my thigh. “I want to feel you clench around me a few more times.”
Oh my God.
If I didn’t know any better, I think he was trying to kill me.
I’m on the brink of falling apart, but Dante looks so relaxed that I’m starting to believe I’m the only one riding the edge.
Or maybe it’s just that this man could incinerate me with a look. Much less his touch.
Dante takes mercy on me, circling my clit with his thumb and sending ripples of pleasure through my veins.
I shatter the very next second, moaning his name and trying to smother my cries in his shoulder.
Dante picks up his pace, finally giving into his own need, following me a moment later. I can feel his cock pumping inside me, marking me as his.
“God, I love you, Dante,” I murmur, slowly coming down from my sex-filled daze. My body aches in all the right places.
“I love you more, princess. Happy birthday.” He chucks a finger under my chin and flashes a boyish grin at my shocked expression. “Now let’s go clean up. I made reservations.”