Giovanni
GIOVANNI
F rom where I’m sitting on the steps of the main building, I can see everything that happens in the courtyard. And I have a perfect view of the new girl, Chiara.
The new bane of my fucking existence.
Her presence is like a pebble dropped into a still pond, sending ripples of curiosity and unrest through the crowd. She’s not exactly blending in, and that’s the first thing that unnerves me.
Most people here know better than to step out of line, but Chiara’s walking around with a kind of fearless confidence that’s almost... refreshing. It’s the same kind of recklessness that gets people in trouble, and I can’t help but be intrigued by it.
It doesn’t help that she’s goddamn beautiful, either. Dark curls I want to wrap around my fist, big green eyes, pale skin, red lips, and a fucking body I want underneath me. Those thigh-high boots and that dress yesterday … Fuck, she’s going to be trouble.
I hate that I can’t do anything just because she’s Dmitri Mikhailov’s step-daughter.
A group of my own guys, including Mihai and Con, are standing nearby. Mihai’s looking over at Chiara with a smirk, clearly amused by the way she’s handling herself. Con, as usual, is in full flirt mode, trying to chat her up from across the courtyard.
“Hey, Gio,” Mihai says, noticing where I’m looking. “Heard you got into a fight with Chiara yesterday.”
“More like a disagreement,” I reply, keeping my gaze fixed on Chiara. “She’s not like the others here; they know better.”
Mihai agrees with a chuckle. “And we all know you don’t like people who think they’re above you.”
“Above me?” I scoff. “It’s not about being above or below. It’s about respect, and she’s not showing any.”
“Respect is earned, fucker,” Connor chimes in, sauntering over with that infuriatingly charming grin. “She just doesn’t care who you are.”
“That’s exactly it,” I say, my irritation mounting. “She doesn’t care, and that’s what’s pissing me off.”
Mihai pats my back. “Poor baby,” he says in a condescending tone before he walks over to her, where she’s sitting with Cat and Marina.
The more I watch her, the more I realize how much her attitude is getting under my skin. She’s got this aura of nonchalance that shouldn’t be there. She’s new, and she’s supposed to be intimidated, but instead, she’s acting like she owns the place.
“She doesn’t look like she’s having a hard time,” my friend Marco says, joining me on the bench. He follows my line of sight and smirks. “She’s got guts, though.”
“Guts or stupidity?” I retort, leaning back and crossing my arms. “She thinks she can just stroll in here and act like she belongs.”
“That’s exactly what makes her interesting, G,” Marco says.
My attention is pulled away as she starts a conversation with a few students near the art building. From the way they’re reacting, she’s holding her own, exchanging laughs and comments with ease .
It’s like she’s already found her place, and that’s where the irritation kicks in.
“I don’t like it,” I say, mostly to myself. “I don’t like how she’s making it look so easy not being born a Crown.”
Marco raises an eyebrow. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
As he asks that, I think about the upcoming Legacy Week and what we’ve planned for the freshmen this year.
I turn to him with a cold smile. “I’m going to make sure she knows her place.”
I decide then and there that I’m going to make her life hell. Not just because I dislike her, but because her presence irritates me. It’s not just about asserting my dominance—it’s about keeping the balance.
If she’s allowed to walk through this place without feeling the weight of it, then where does that leave everyone else?
Later in the day, I find her at her locker again, rifling through her things. She’s alone, which is the perfect opportunity. I slip into the hallway, my footsteps deliberately loud enough to catch her attention.
“Can I help you with something, ?” she asks without looking up, clearly annoyed.
“Just wanted to see how you’re settling in,” I say, leaning casually against the locker next to hers.
She finally looks up, her green eyes meeting mine. “And why would you care?”
“Curiosity,” I reply with a smirk. “Plus, it’s always fun to see how long someone like you lasts around here.”
“I’m not here for your entertainment,” she snaps, closing the locker. “And I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
I chuckle, leaning in a little closer. “Is that so? Because I’m starting to think you’re underestimating how things work around here. ”
“I’m not underestimating anything,” she says, her voice steady despite the underlying tension. “I know exactly what I’m up against. My stepfather is Dmitri Mikhailov, remember?”
“That’s a brave thing to say out loud,” I reply, not backing away. “But maybe you need a little reminder of the world you’ve willingly stepped into.”
She rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “, please go find someone else to play with. I won’t be your new toy.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And what makes you think that I want you as a toy, Micetta ?”
“You’re not exactly subtle,” she says, her tone challenging. “It’s clear you’re determined to make me feel like I’m inferior, but you’re forgetting one thing: you may be a Crown, but you’re not my king, .”
I take a step closer, closing the distance between us in one smooth motion. “Not your king? That’s cute,” I say. “But you’ll learn, Kitten, that the only crown you need to worry about is the one I’m going to make you bow to.”
Before she can respond, I back her up against the locker with a swift, deliberate move, feeling the cold metal against my hand as I cage her in. My fingers find their way to her throat, resting there lightly at first, just enough to feel the way her pulse is thrumming beneath her skin.
She’s clearly not intimidated, and that’s something I haven’t seen often, and it’s something I have to fucking change.
“Tell you what, Micetta, ” I say with a cold smile, and watch her eyes widen. “Why don’t we test that courage of yours?”
“Stop calling me that,” she snaps and narrows her eyes. “What are you planning?”
“Nothing drastic,” I say, though my voice suggests otherwise. “Just reminding you of Legacy Week, since I know Nikolai must have told you by now. It’s a tough world here, and since you want to go up against a king?— ”
“Your imaginary crown doesn’t scare me,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I may not have been born into this life, but I’m not going to allow someone like you to push me around.”
I can’t help but smirk at her bravado. It’s almost endearing, if it weren’t so misplaced. I lean in closer, my hand instinctively tightening around her throat. The pressure I apply is just enough to remind her who’s in charge without causing real harm.
“Oh, babygirl,” I say, watching her eyes widen and a blush forming on her cheeks. “I can’t wait for you to swallow those words when you’re on your knees for me.”
She gasps, her breath hitching as she tries to push me away, but I don’t budge. Her attempts are half-hearted; she’s still trying to project strength, even though she’s clearly rattled.
“You think you can intimidate me into submission?” she chokes out, her voice strained but defiant.
I lean in closer, my lips brushing against her ear. “Of course I can. I enjoy breaking pretty little things.”
She shivers, her eyes darting around the hallway as if looking for an escape route. “Let go,” she demands, her voice quivering. “This is harassment.”
“Harassment?” I laugh softly. “That’s a bit dramatic. I’m just reminding you of your place. You’re not in the safe, cushy world you were used to. You’re here now; and in my world, things work differently.”
I can feel her pulse quickening under my grip, her skin warm and soft against my hand. It’s a feeling I’ve always enjoyed—the power, the control. But with her, it’s different. She’s got this fire that makes me want to push her harder, to see how much she can take.
How much can I push her until she shatters?
“You keep saying my place is below you. Does Dmitri know what you think of his family? ”
Her words feel like a slap to the face, and that just pisses me off more. “You’re not a Mikhailov and you’ll never be one of us.”
“That’s just it. I don’t want to be one of you,” she says, her voice barely a whisper now. “You’re just another bully wearing Daddy’s last name like a crown.”
I don’t know if I want to choke her harder or fuck her until she’s screaming my name. So I just smile, releasing her throat but keeping my hand close enough that she knows I could tighten it again in an instant.
“And you’re just another stubborn girl who thinks she can play with the big boys,” I say, running my thumb over her bottom lip. “We’ll see how long that attitude lasts.”
Her breath catches, and for a moment, I think I see a flicker of something in her eyes—fear, maybe, or excitement. Doesn’t matter. She’ll learn, one way or another.
“You’re right,” I murmur, leaning in so close our breaths mix, “I’m not your king. But by the time I’m done with you, you’ll wish I were.”
Legacy Week can’t come any sooner.