Chapter 2 Dante
DANTE
Iran a hand through my hair as I closed out of the journal article I’d been reading. It was my first day of the semester, and I had biochemistry in a few minutes. I typically enjoyed teaching, but I was deep in a research rabbit hole, and I wanted to stay there.
As I stood and grabbed my jacket, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and sighed.
My brother, Lorenzo, wanted me to call him as soon as I could. What was up now? Something new with the Russians? Some other faction ready to go to war with us? Why the hell had I been born into a crime family?
Was Lorenzo going to push me to get involved in family business?
Thank fuck I hadn’t been invited to Dmitri Koslov’s party.
That was Lorenzo’s problem, not mine. Had I ever really thought I could get out of the family business, that once I had my PhD, I could live my life as a professor and put all the violence, scheming, and criminal behavior behind me?
No, I’d always known better, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself.
If it weren’t for the money the family brought in, you wouldn’t be where you are.
That was true, and I loved my brothers and even my cousin Remington, who fancied himself king of the New Orleans criminal world, but I wanted a different life.
Do you really?
Yes. I did. But the way I’d grown up had branded me.
I knew what I was capable of, and I wasn’t sure I could ever live like a regular person.
I knew what my family would do for me if I asked, but I also knew there would be expectations.
I couldn’t have Remington snap his fingers and get me a job and a huge research budget without owing something back.
I pushed those thoughts from my mind and texted Lorenzo. Got class now. Call you after.
I slipped on my jacket. I liked to present a professional appearance, especially on the first day, and it helped that the air-conditioning stayed at meat-locker temperatures during the first weeks of class.
Nothing said New Orleans in August like gasping for breath in the humidity, then freezing as soon as you stepped indoors.
Once I had my laptop and a leather folio in hand, I locked my office and headed down the hall. I passed a few students I’d taught the previous semester and greeted them. Their giggles after I passed told me the extremely obvious crush they’d had on me last year hadn’t abated.
I shook my head. If they knew who I really was, what I was capable of, they’d think I was a monster, not someone they wanted to date.
As if that was even an option, since I was gay and I didn’t date students.
I didn’t really date at all. I had no trouble finding hookups when I wanted, but I didn’t need a relationship complicating my life.
Family responsibilities and my career were enough to juggle.
I stepped into the classroom I’d been assigned and surveyed the students who were already in their seats.
There were the usual eager-looking first-row students, likely premed majors intent on keeping a perfect GPA.
One young man in the back row was catching up on his sleep, and a group of sorority girls were debriefing their evening while sipping their iced coffees.
The room slowly filled up as the minutes to class time ticked down.
I opened my laptop and brought up the first slide in my introduction, which laid out my expectations for the semester.
Just before I introduced myself, a young man pushed the door open aggressively, sending it banging against the wall.
Several students laughed, and he joined in, not looking the least bit embarrassed.
He grabbed the door as it bounced back to him and pushed it closed, then took off his baseball cap and bowed to the class, winning applause from a majority, excluding the eager-to-get-going students in the first row.
“I hope you aren’t planning such a dramatic entrance every day,” I said.
He turned to look at me, and his eyes widened. Something about him was familiar. But where would I know him from? I hadn’t taught him before; I was sure of that.
He grabbed a desk to steady himself, and the young woman seated in it scowled at him.
My irritation was growing. “At least if you plan to be this disruptive, arrive earlier.”
He grinned, seeming to have recovered from whatever had startled him. What was that about, and why did I need to know so badly?
“Yes, sir.”
His mocking tone should have pissed me off, but it intrigued me.
He intrigued me because he didn’t fit in a neat box.
He looked like most of the frat boys on campus—dirty-blond hair, long on top, T-shirt and shorts, with the backward baseball cap he’d returned to his head.
He was obviously used to drawing attention to himself and comfortable with it, but it seemed calculated instead of natural.
He had a barrier around him. I recognized intentional distancing because I did it too.
“Take a seat,” I ordered.
He sent me a smile that I was sure melted most people he used it on and headed toward the back of the room.
He was going to be trouble. I knew that instantly. But in that moment, I had no idea just how much trouble he would be.
I introduced myself and continued my first-day talk about expectations, objectives, and an overview of the syllabus.
When I asked if someone could give a concise explanation of what biochemistry was, I didn’t expect Troublemaker’s hand to shoot up.
When it did, I couldn’t resist calling on him.
I immediately saw disappointment in some of the eager students’ eyes. They’d survive.
I expected a joke or some stilted explanation. I assumed he just wanted more attention. But I needed to know. I needed another piece of the puzzle that might explain him.
“Biochemistry is the study of chemical processes that take place in living organisms, including the study of biomolecules like amino acids and proteins.”
I sure as hell hadn’t expected him to give a textbook definition with no humor included. He was intelligent and trouble. A lethal combo.
“Very good, Mr.…?”
“Alexander Hebert. But you can call me Alex.”
A young woman in the second row had her hand up. When I acknowledged her, she said, “Doesn’t biochemistry also include enzyme catalysts?”
I forced a smile. “Yes, you’re absolutely right.”
I moved forward to the next slide, which gave an overview of the syllabus. “As you’ll see, all the topics mentioned are included here.”
Thankfully, I’d taught the class several times before, so I was able to quickly rattle off the rest of my talk before dismissing the students early. Alex had me distracted. I wanted to hate him for that. I shouldn’t have paid attention to him at all. I should have called on someone else.
A student intriguing me because of the answers they gave, their understanding of the material, or their unique perspectives was one thing. A student making me personally interested, making me want to see how they’d respond if I pushed them… that was not good.
I needed to ignore Alex unless I had to interact with him.
I closed my laptop and disconnected it from the projector as students filed out of the room.
When I looked up again, Alex was still there, talking to a few other students.
His gaze met mine, and he smiled again, not the way you smile at a professor or even a friend.
He smiled like he was imagining me naked.
Big fucking trouble.
“Less drama on Thursday,” I said.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“If you need this class to graduate, then there will be no further drama. If you don’t, you can leave.”
One of the guys standing with him whistled.
“Oh no. I need it,” he said, holding my gaze. I refused to let him unnerve me.
One of the girls shoved at his arm. “Stop acting like that. You don’t have to be such a spectacle.”
He turned back to me, smile still in place. “Sorry, sir.”
Alex’s sweet, submissive tone stirred something in me. I needed to ignore it. Next class, I would pretend he didn’t exist. And I’d find some willing boy to fuck tonight. Hopefully, that would be all I needed to get me out of whatever strange mood had overtaken me.
I walked on past the group of students.
“See you Thursday!” one of the girls called.
“You will.”
When I reached my office, I intended to return to the paper I’d been reading on a new epigenetic theory.
Instead, I found myself looking up Troublemaker, aka Alexander Hebert.
He was from a wealthy family. His parents had died in a boating accident when he was twelve.
He’d been raised by his aunt and uncle and his grandparents.
It seemed clear that he was expected to follow in the family tradition of joining the medical profession as well as rushing Chi Rho.
A blue jay’s call emanated from the bird-themed clock on my office wall, a gag gift from my younger brother, Rafael, when I took this job. The sound let me know I’d been investigating Alex and his family for nearly an hour. What the fuck was I doing?
Something bothered me about Alex. That’s why I was researching him. I was trusting my gut. He needed watching, and I needed to find out what the hell was up with him. I was absolutely not interested in him because he was beautiful and would look great ass up in my bed.
Leave him alone. He’s not up to anything. He’s a frat boy, and he likes attention.
Maybe—based on the way he’d smiled and spoken in that damn submissive tone—a closeted one with a crush on me. Student crushes were nothing new, and they’d never affected me before. They’d only ever been funny or irritating. They sure as hell had never had my stomach flip-flopping.
And that wasn’t going to change now. I would make sure of that.
I had to.