54. Thea
54
Thea
C assian and Landon rushed to stop Kyril from killing Dario, not that he was in much danger from what I could see. Dar’s skills had leveled up since I last saw him, and he gave as good as he got.
By the time one of the faculty members barreled over to break up the fight, the two stood glaring at each other, Kyril’s expression nothing short of murderous. Dar wiped some blood away from a split lip while ignoring me.
“What is the meaning of this?” barked a man in a tweed jacket.
“Just a small misunderstanding, Lionel,” Cassian explained smoothly, throwing Kyril a warning look that said shut the fuck up, I’ll handle this.
The man’s gaze flicked between the two testosterone-fueled idiots, not at all convinced it was a minor disagreement. Thankfully, though, both Dar and Kyril stayed silent.
“I suggest you both take your argument elsewhere,” he grumbled eventually. “The cafeteria is not the place to pick a fight. We have a boxing ring in the gymnasium where young men can work off their aggression. Consider joining the boxing club if you need an outlet.”
Kyril snorted. I had a feeling the boxing club members would have a literal heart attack if he showed up.
“I’ll leave this in your capable hands, Mr. Forsyth.” Lionel patted Cassian on the shoulder and walked off.
Cassian turned to his friend with a scowl. “Kyril, go cool off, yeah?” Kyril muttered something in Russian but stood his ground.
Dar threw away the napkin he’d used to mop up blood and then cast one final scathing look at me before he stormed off.
Landon moved closer, sliding an arm around my waist. “You OK?” he asked. I nodded. I wasn’t OK at all, but he didn’t need to know that. Cassian stared at me for a moment and my teeth clenched, waiting for him to ask how I knew Dario.
The seconds ticked by, but he said nothing. His expression gave very little away. The guy was a consummate politician, just like his father.
Was he aware of what Kyril and I had done last night?
“I better go talk to Dario, find out what’s going on,” he said eventually. “Maybe this will encourage the admin office to find him a new room.”
“I fucking hope so,” Landon muttered.
Milo stood silently, soaking it all up, watching and listening without getting involved. When I looked his way, his gaze was on me. Kyril’s too.
Conversations had picked up again now that the drama had fizzled out. More than a few of the students nearby were still staring at me and gossiping, some of them recording us with their phones. Probably discussing the salacious things Dar had said and posting shit online.
My skin itched uncomfortably. As much as I didn’t care what people thought of me, I hated being the center of attention.
Before anyone could react, I’d escaped Landon’s arms and was half-way across the cafeteria, heading for the exit. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Eden was calling me. No doubt she’d heard something on the college grapevine already. Everyone must be talking about the fight between Dar and Kyril.
Nobody usually fought Kyril and lived to tell the tale.
I burst outside, sucking in a few lung fulls of freezing air. It helped to quell all the feelings doing their best to erupt. I had a class in ten minutes but fuck that.
No way could I sit through a turgid lesson on contract law or some such bullshit. Why was I even here, anyway?
A few people stared as I headed back to my room, but I ignored all of them. My stomach churned uncomfortably, probably from the pill I’d taken.
By the time I reached my room, Eden had called me no less than 10 times. I also had missed calls from Landon and Kyril.
I switched my phone off, tossed it on the floor, and crawled back into bed. While I’d slept like the dead after my romp in the forest, catching a few more hours of sleep seemed like an excellent idea.
Sadly, it wasn’t to be.
Less than ten minutes later, someone started hammering on my door. I tried ignoring them, but the noise just got louder.
“I know you’re in there! Let me in!”
For fuck’s sake. With a sigh, I dragged myself off the bed and flung the door open.
“I was asleep!”
Eden glared at me. “Liar.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her expression softened.
“That’s OK. We don’t have to talk.”
Since it was clear she had no plans to leave, I pushed the door shut and returned to my bed.
“I thought you had something you had to do,” I reminded her. She’d left the cafeteria in a hurry, so I assumed she had a meeting with her student adviser or something.
She waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing important. Anyway, I brought supplies.” I watched as she rummaged in her tote bag and produced some chocolate croissants. “Sugar is good for a shock,” she told me. “Eat.”
“I’ve had breakfast.”
“And I bet you ate very little of it before the drama kicked off.” She was right, of course. I’d managed about three bites of my pancake and a few sips of coffee. “Eat this and I’ll shut up.”
Rolling my eyes at her overbearing nonsense, I took the croissant and ate it. Damn. The pastry was deliciously buttery.
“Did you bring coffee too?” She grinned.
“Of course!” A pink coffee-to-go cup appeared from the magic tote bag, filled with perfectly brewed coffee. She’d added creamer and sugar, but I didn’t mind. The extra shot of sugar was more than needed today.
Fucking Dar . I hadn’t seen that coming. Why was he here? It made no sense. The last time I’d heard his name was when I overheard Fausto asking my father not to send him somewhere. From that small piece of information, I deduced Dario was working for Dad. Probably had been for years. I wondered if Torrance had planted him in my life specifically to teach me a lesson. The ultimate lesson.
Let your guard down and suffer the pain of betrayal.
“Who’s the Italian hottie anyway?”
“I thought we didn’t have to talk?”
Eden threw her hands up in the air. “Oh come on! You can’t blame a girl for trying! I saw the TikToks. Hot damn. The guy’s seriously rizz.”
I scrunched my nose in confusion. “Rizz?”
Eden’s jaw dropped. “Have you been living in a cave for, like, ever?”
“Kind of.” I brushed a few pastry crumbs off my bed and turned away. Eden watched me for a moment and then sighed.
“Rizz means super attractive and charming. As in charisma.”
“I think he failed charm school.”
She snorted. “Hmm, well, perhaps. But come on, the guy’s hot!” She cringed when I glared at her. “OK, so we’re not talking about the hot guy. Fiiiine . No hot guy talk. So… ready for another few episodes of Damon Salvatore instead?”
“Sure,” I agreed with a sigh. Fictional hot guys were way easier to deal with.