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I struggle through the remainder of the hour, keeping my eyes locked forward despite the continuous onslaught of paper balls and other objects thrown my way. As soon as Professor Kennedy dismisses us, I’m up and out of my chair, making my way hurriedly toward the door. But when I reach the end of my row of seats, Nicolo’s already waiting for me.
His imposing figure bars my path, his arms crossed over his chest to reveal his strong biceps beneath the fabric of his blue polo. “What’s your name, New Girl?” he asks.
I swallow hard, fear gripping my chest as I worry he might recognize me if I tell him. “Anya,” I reply simply and hold my breath.
“Well,Anya,” he sneers. “Why don’t you go back to whatever podunk town you came from? Chicago’s my town, and I don’t want you here.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the threat behind his words. I know his family all but runs Chicago, and they’re reputedly quite willing to prove their power with violent displays.But he wouldn’t hurt me, would he? In the middle of broad daylight on a college campus?Perhaps I should just keep my head down and try not to provoke him. I don’t particularly want to find out.
3
NICOLO
Tilting my chair against the back wall of my econ class, I can’t get Anya off my mind. It’s irritating. She burst into my life like a tornado, dumping coffee and salad all over my favorite pair of shoes and effectively ruining my day. While I couldn’t care less about the way her clumsiness scalded my skin, I care more about the way she looked at me. Like I was a viper, some poisonous snake that would surely kill her given a chance.She spilled all over me, and she had the nerve to look at me like I’m the ass?
As the oldest son of Lorenzo Marchetti and the heir to his business someday, I’m used to people treating me with respect and, when I demand it, fear. But Anya seemed to dislike me before she even met me, and that rankles me.Who is she to judge me?No one. She might be beautiful with her natural waves of golden hair and sky-blue eyes, her dainty chin and nose, but she’s clearly inferior to me. A charity case, probably here on some scholarship to the private college because no girl from a proper family would be caught dead in the rags she was wearing. Hell, I could see the runs in her leggings telling me she’s in desperate need of a new pair.
“Dude, Nico, your new car issick,” Jay says enthusiastically beside me, pulling my attention away from the clumsy new girl and back to the present.
I smile cockily, thinking of my black Maserati parked in the garage beneath my Lincoln Park penthouse apartment. A belated birthday present from my father, my new car handles like a dream. I’ve taken it out several times over the last few weeks just to show it off and race it around town. Not that anyone in my family necessarilyneedsa car. We have drivers for that kind of stuff. But like my dad said when he gave it to me, a young man needs his freedom and a set of wheels that will take him anywhere he pleases.
“It hits zero to sixty in 3.2 seconds. Makes the girls go down on my cock even faster,” I brag.
I wonder if Anya might suck my cock for a ride in my new car. Immediately, I hate myself for even thinking it. Something tells me she wouldn’t, and that pisses me off even more. Girls don’t say no to me, but from the way Anya looked at me today, I think she just might. And that’s what infuriates me.She thinks she’s too good for me? In her threadbare clothes, a proper charity case?I’ll teach her not to look at me that way. If she doesn’t know enough to respect me, I’ll make her fear me instead. But no clumsy little nothing from some meaningless little town is going to come into my city and pretend like I don’t own her just as much as I own everyone else in Chicago. If I wanted to, I could have her chained to my bedpost for as long as it suited me.
We fall silent for a few minutes as the professor at the front of the class drones on, creating mind-numbingly droll noise in the background. Some days, I hate going to school. There’s no point to it in my mind. I might be passing my classes solely because of the private tutors my father has hired to ensure I do, but this is all just for show.
Dad thinks a proper degree is important to maintaining the family image. We can’t run the town if we don’t even have a college education, in his book. Especially since a large portion of our philanthropic gestures revolves around the funding for this school. But Dad doesn’t really care if I learn anything, and neither do I. It’s not like they teach something relevant to the kind of business my family runs.
“Look at that prime piece of real estate,” Dominic praises, leaning toward me so only I can hear.
His chin juts toward the model-perfect blonde that walks through the door, her pencil skirt snuggly hugging her curves. Her heels click on the floor, making her hips sway and demanding everyone’s attention. She’s late for class, and I almost think that’s her intention. She’s here to find a sugar daddy if I had to bet. Her outfit is too form-fitting to qualify as studious, and she’s dolled up like she’s looking to catch someone’s eye. There are plenty of those girls at Rosehill, here to waste Daddy’s money while they look for who might fund their Botox in exchange for pumping out a couple of kids and being a trophy wife. This one’s too obvious for me. But still, I can appreciate her efforts. She’ll find someone to drool over her. I can almost guarantee it.
“Mmm. What I wouldn’t give to put that rack to good use,” Dom practically pants, letting his chair fall back onto four legs as he watches her closely.
The girl’s eyes flick toward the back of the room as if she can hear him speaking about her, and her gaze meets mine. She gives me a sultry smile and the subtlest of finger waves. See, that’s the kind of response I’m supposed to get when girls look at me. An invitation to bend them over, spread their legs, and make them scream my name. I give her a subtle nod, returning her smile, though I can’t find it in me to fully appreciate how attractive she is. She blushes coyly and keeps peering up at me through her lashes as she finds her seat.
“Sometimes, I hate being your friend,” Dom gripes, making me chuckle as he slumps in his seat and crosses his arms in a grown-man pout.
“I can’t help that I’m better-looking than you,” I joke, glancing his way.
I get how infuriating it must be to watch girls throwing themselves at my feet and not get any of the action because, as close as my friends are to me–and they just might be good enough friends to become members of my family business someday–they just won’t get the same kind of respect that comes with the Marchetti name. Of course, they get plenty of pussy just from being my friends on top of their own admirable qualities. And any girl I’m not interested in, I’m happy to send their way. But sometimes it’s fun to take a girl just because I know I can.
“I’ll tell you what,” I say, clapping both Dom and Jay on the shoulders and drawing their eyes to me. “Dom, you can have the blonde once I’ve broken her in. I’ll bring Jay along in my Maserati when I drop her off at your house. Then we’ll all get the ride we’re looking for.”
Jay chuckles, flashing his teeth to confirm his agreement.
“Fuck you, man,” Dom hisses, shoving my hand away. “I don’t need your sloppy seconds. I’ll find a girl on my own.”
I shrug. “Suit yourself.”
Jay snickers. “Like, how about that dumpster diver that spilled her food all over Nico today?”
My irritation spikes once again at the mention of the new girl. Her soul-piercing gaze sticks with me, tugging at the back of my brain. I don’t know why, but something about her is familiar. It’s probably just her common face, so similar to the endless billboard sob stories of the impoverished immigrants that plague our great city.
Dom scoffs. “I wouldn’t have to stoop that low to find pussy. Even I have standards. But at least she had some fuck-worthy legs. Right? Mmm. And that ass–”
“Definitely a dancer’s ass,” Jay agrees.
