Chapter 13 Lev
LEV
Annoying Twin
Happy first day! Get good grades and all that.
Me
Fuck off.
Annoying Twin
You know how tempted I am to let Papa know what his beloved soldier is doing right now? He’d DIE knowing you walked away from the Bratva—temporarily, sure—to attend SCHOOL with a Cosa Nostra daughter. If he’ll die, it’s worth telling him, actually. Hmm…
Me
1: Don’t even think about it. 2: I didn’t walk away from the Bratva. Consider this strengthening the alliance. 3: She’s not a Cosa Nostra daughter. Technically, yes. Biologically, no.
Annoying Twin
You and your lists… 1: Considering we’ve barely heard from him, hell no. 2: Stronger than an alliance of two people fucking? 3: Testy much. You know what I meant.
Me
1: Let the asshole rest in retirement and forget we’re his family. 2: You know what I mean. This shows real trust outside their relationship, that we’re willing to help. 3: Factual, not testy. The only reason I’m here is because she ISN’T what Vanessa was.
Annoying Twin
K, so 1…you know what? Fuck the lists. Tired of numbering everything. Besides, you must be in class. Can’t keep big bro distracted. What you’re doing is admirable, though I don’t know how you’re functioning. And I get it. She’s normal and all that.
In the middle of typing a response, a delayed second message comes from her:
Annoying Twin
She’s the lucky one.
Me
Because she was raised outside mob rules and regulations for women?
Annoying Twin
Because she has you.
Me
I’d say that’s sweet, but we both know you don’t do sappy. How drunk are you?
Annoying Twin
Completely sober. Sitting at one of the brothels while the good doc does her rounds with the staff.
The class falls quieter when the door opens for the final time, and a middle-aged man strides in. He heads for the podium, plugging his laptop into the projection system.
Me
Class is starting. I have to look studious.
Annoying Twin
Tell Serafina I need a picture of you for proof.
Me
Blackmail material, you mean.
Annoying Twin
I rest the phone screen side down on the tiny, attached desk as the professor begins introducing himself.
In front of me, Serafina sits a bit straighter, her chin resting on her palm as she raptly listens.
I find myself curious, wishing I claimed the chair beside her.
Considering I wasn’t planning on being even this close, I understand why I didn’t.
Class is as boring, as expected. Students range from paying attention to outright ignoring the teacher, playing on their phone instead. I take no notes, instead zoning out, almost missing his dismissal at the end of the scheduled session.
Serafina packs her stuff and shuffles to the aisle, glancing at me with a raised brow that asks, Coming?
I trail her into the hallway, where she heads only three doors down, checking the number against her class list before slipping inside.
By the doorway, I wait as she chooses a place to sit—about two-thirds up—before turning away.
Students are packed tightly together, the halls busier than earlier, but I barrel through, aiming for the small coffee shop Serafina was staring at.
After buying two plain black coffees and grabbing a handful of creamers and sugar packets, unaware how she takes hers, I return to the lecture hall.
She glances up at my entrance, tracking me until I pause to rest a paper cup beside her, deposit the handful of cream and sugar, then climb the remainder of the way to the top row and claim the seat closest to the aisle.
Much like the first class, the professor introduces herself and then the course: Introduction to Advanced Chemistry.
With a sigh, I settle in for more boring content while the professor lists subjects they’ll later be tested on, the kinds of labs to follow in the afternoons.
If only Serafina was a Computer Science major…
When class ends, Serafina packs up and lingers outside the room rather than taking off. She falls into step beside me and tosses the empty coffee cup in the first bin we pass.
“I have a break,” she murmurs, “so I thought we could grab lunch.”
She leads the way outside, directing me through the crowds doing their darndest to have me running for cover.
Once through the crowd and a short distance from the chaos, she slows.
Her head remains low, but her eyes lift my way, reminding me of the shy woman I encountered that night in my room.
The one not in the photos online, which, after a couple days with her, I’m seeing as being entirely faked, though not sure why she’d put on a different facade with her friends.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“How’d you know?”
“Watching you is my job. You stared too long for someone who didn’t want one.”
“I’ll pay you back if you let me know where to send the money.”
“Don’t. It wasn’t why I did it.”
Pink decorates her cheeks, but she shakes her head and picks up her pace, pulling slightly ahead until we make it to the dining hall. She breaks off to grab a burger while I snag an apple from the fruit bar and then find a table giving me a clear view of the entire room.
Given that it’s past noon, the only students in here are those like Serafina, who are eating a late lunch. It leaves a lot of tables available, and she claims one in the centre before glancing my way. Her stare lingers for ten seconds before her attention moves to her phone.
I bite into the apple while counting down the seconds until this day ends.
The day worsens. In the afternoon, she has a chemistry lab, and my fuck, if Zeno believes faking this class is possible, he has another thing coming, considering all the hands-on work.
Thankfully, the professor pulls me aside and takes pity on me, explaining she understands, says I can sit by the side and observe or wait in the hall. Preferring to remain in sight of Serafina, I take the offer of a chair.
Throughout the day, Serafina speaks to no one, keeping her head low. She doesn’t seem to look at anyone to strike a conversation, like she’s shy.
During the lab, I find my attention on her more than it should be, considering her boyfriend isn’t around.
She’s a conundrum, going against everything Zeno described her as being, which aligned with her social media.
Other than a few verbal punches, she’s been—dare I think it?
—pleasant. In many ways, I wanted her to be a pain-in-my-ass so my wonder could be sated.
When we return to the dorm that late afternoon, Serafina mutters something about getting a head start on an essay a professor already assigned and disappears into her room until supper.
Supper passes quickly, and she sits alone, making me wonder what happened to her friend. She barely looks my way until we’re back inside the dorm, where I take up my work again, striking up a text conversation with Dimitri.
Serafina eventually claims her spot on the couch, only instead of turning on the TV, she twists my way. My attention remains on my laptop even as her eyes burn into my cheek.
“What are you always working on?”
Something you probably shouldn’t know about. “The man who kidnapped you—”
“Vanessa’s uncle, Ivan Volkov,” she interjects, voice soft.
“Da. He’s taken off to Canada. His son, Dimitri—you would have briefly seen him the day we came for Vanessa at your brother’s villa—is searching for him. I’m doing what I can to help from here.”
She stares at my laptop for three seconds before pursing her lips. “Which is?”
“It was tracking his phone, but he got rid of it, so now I’m searching for a list of criminal groups in the city who may be willing to help Dimitri.”
“Huh. That wasn’t what I expected you to say.”
And then, she does something I don’t expect and scoots closer. Too close, her knee only a couple inches from my thigh. Peach and vanilla demolish my senses and my will. If it was physically possible for a brain to immediately forget everything it knows, then mine is very close to doing that.
“So, you’re actually working? Like the kinds of things you’d be doing if you were home.”
“If you’re asking about jobs outside guarding the Cosa Nostra printessa, then da, I do other things.”
She scowls. “Told you, I’m not a princess.”
“Good translation.”
“It’s like you think I’m dumb or something.” She scrunches her face, her hand coming up to feign brushing hair back when she’s actually trying to block herself from view—something I don’t like. “You wouldn’t be the first,” she mumbles, stabbing the knife into my gut a bit deeper.
“Dumb? After experiencing today, you are anything but dumb. The content of your classes is crazy. I apologize for my comment, because that isn’t what I think of you at all, and if anyone has said shit like that to you in the past, send me a list so I can take care of them.”
If only I didn’t mean that.
Her hand slowly drops away from her face, but strands still shield some of her. “Thanks, Lev,” she whispers. “I’m sure it was terrible. Especially having to work on this couch, rather than your set-up at home.”
It’s terrible. “It’s tolerable.” It’s worth it.
When she lowers her head onto a crooked arm propped on the back of the couch, I return to my task and feign focus. She shifts until there’s only an inch now between us, and studies the Toronto Police Service’s records, a system I hacked a week ago.
“It’s weird,” she murmurs after a moment.
“Looking back, I never imagined being in this scenario. The first time I saw you was when you all came for Vanessa, but it doesn’t feel like it.
The kidnapping feels like the first, since I blocked the other instance out.
It didn’t really count, since we didn’t talk. ”
When Zeno captured Vanessa, he took her to his villa outside of Rome, but Anastasia, Dimitri, and I, along with a few men, stormed the place to save her.
“Sorry about that,” I find myself uttering, even if I’m not sorry for saving Vanessa. Serafina, by shitty coincidence, was taken to the mansion by Zeno so Vanessa could see the extent of Ursin’s villainy and got caught up in the fight. “Was that your first time with a gun pointed at you?”
“Would have preferred it to be my one and only, but we both know how that went.” She snorts, gauging my humour, but I don’t react.
“Were you scared?”
She nods into the couch. “Figured it’s a natural reaction. You burst in, forced Nero to give up his weapon, stuck my dog in a closet, and had us kneeling. I didn’t know what to expect.”
“Sorry,” I repeat, almost needing her to reassure me she’s okay. That out of everything the Bratva brought to this poor woman’s life, traumatic memories aren’t included.
“It happened. Vanessa and my brother are together, so something good came from it.”
Your sister. She doesn’t refer to them both being her siblings, but asking how she feels about Vanessa isn’t my place. Reflective questions like that are reserved for friends like Amara, not a forced-upon bodyguard.
“Well…” She drags out the word as she slides from the couch and to her feet. “Good night. My first class tomorrow is at nine, like today’s, so same timing?”
She’s asking, not telling, but my response is phrased as obeying rather than agreeing. “Got it.”
She starts for her room, and I really should let her go, but a nagging question that’s been irritating me all day has me calling her name, waiting until she turns to face me. “Why science?”
She blinks. I expect a full-winded answer about possible career paths; instead, her responding shrug is weak. “Not sure. I’d like a career in the sciences, but I haven’t made a decision yet. I figured step one was getting here—doing what no other Cosa Nostra woman gets to do. After that…we’ll see.”
That wasn’t the expected response.
I hate it, because I need organization in my life, to know and understand reasons for everything. Hell, it’s half the reason I’m here—to understand her and the effect she has on me.
The flicker that dulls those blue eyes reminding me of warmth and safety is very telling, though. Concern. Stress. Because she may be allowed to attend classes, but at what point will Zeno chain her to the mob?
She walks to her room and shuts the door. I only look away when her bedroom light switches off, thinking how it’d be a shame if Zeno did precisely that.
If he changed Serafina’s future and took away the passionate parts of her, the parts that made her my angel and my printessa.
Not mine…but something I wouldn’t want to see destroyed.