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Of course, she doesn’t. Not after the meltdown she had with Anton, the blackhearted bastard.
Gritting my teeth, I glare at the map of the world on the wall facing my bed, dotted with pushpins. I have a bucket list this year, and by God, I’m going to do everything on that list if it kills me.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Not me. No more. I’m fighting back.”
Gabby lets out a resigned sigh next to me. “Oh boy, then I guess there’s gonna be no peace.”
That’s my girl. Always has my back.
Crina twirls around in my spinny chair, making a soft noise of derision at the back of her throat. “I’m not afraid of those bastards. Never was. Marku especially. He can go fuck himself, and you know I’ll tell him that to his face.”
And she has. Unlike me, that girl is fearless. I may never be a Crina, but I’m determined to shed the old Star.
Since Tatum left, I’m coming to understand that life means taking risks, and it’s past time I started taking some.
CHAPTER3
LUCIAN
“You want me to dowhat?” Star asks, eyes wide as she stares up at the head of the Popescu clan.
I stand beside her, facing Cristo like a good soldier, while he lounges back like some modern-day Roman Emperor. Even the ornate crimson leather couch he’s sitting on looks fitting for his regal pose. The large windows of his Tribeca loft rise behind him like mountains. The setting sun strikes the panes and spills into the expansive room, setting the bright ruby-red of the massive modern paintings of jagged mountains on fire.
I hear her swallow.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her tugging at her crop top in an attempt to cover the sliver of flat belly showing.
I get it, glancing down at my own attire with irritation. I didn’t get a chance to change into a suit, because when a boss calls, you come running.
The fact that she’s not only wearing a crop top, but oversized sweats and a pair of coral-colored Air Jordans tells me that she flew out of her house when she got his summons. But fuck, even dressed like a typical teenager, Star is nothing but fucking stunning.
Star.Only one syllable, it’s such a simple sounding name.
Simple as it might sound, it’s a perfect expression of who she is. Stars may look small in the sky, just pinpricks in a huge expanse of black, but they’re immense. Fiery and explosive. Yeah, I bet she’d explode under my touch. Better yet, under my tongue.
Whenever she steps into a room, I just want to go to her, to bring her attentive dark eyes on me, and I want to keep them there. It’s gotten worse over the years. Every one of those instincts is wrong, wrong,wrong. So instead of satisfying my burning desire for her, I expend every ounce of energy I have to crush it. At times, I have to crush her in the process. Collateral damage.
Cristo scowls.
I second his irritation.
Star’s not stupid enough to outright dismiss the Popescusef’srequest, but what the fuck? Did she actually question him? Is she pushing back because we’re Popescus?
I shift slightly so that I have each foot planted fully on an entire paisley in the design of the rug. Fucking Lupu snobs.
Cristo has more patience than I do, because he schools his features into a marginally less vicious expression and says, “Tutor him, Star. You’re the smartest girl in your grade. You can do it.”
“B-But, I’m a Lupu,” she has the audacity to argue, even if her voice doesn’t rise above a rasp.
“Lupu. Popescu,” Cristo replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s not like before. We’re at peace. Our families are friends. My sister married a Lupu, for Christ’s sake.”
Yes, his sister Cat. How could I forget her wedding?
That kiss.
But he’s also making a point, one with an underlying threat:Do you dare insult me? There’s peace, but it only takes one match to light a fire.
Her gaze darts to me.
