Chapter 3
Three
Enzo
Punctuality was as important to me as a pussy to a eunuch.
The only man whose time I respected was my father’s.
Nobody disrespected his schedule. Not me. Not the president. Not the richest man on earth.
Which was why I gave no fucks that I was going to be thirty minutes late to American Gothic Lit. While I had zero interest in pursuing a career in literature or any profession that required a degree, my parents expected one thing from me while I was here: an acceptable GPA.
My father viewed failure as a weakness.
He despised weakness.
He’d never attended college. Nor did my older brother, Benny.
College had never been in the cards for me either until President Byron approached my father four years ago.
He gave him an offer that led to lucrative deals, contracts with high-powered officials, and further opportunities for our family’s illegal ventures.
It was a deal too good for my father to refuse.
It’d also introduced me to a world that changed my life.
Most people feared the Marchetti name. Saint Vale made us even more untouchable. I was here to expand our influence, not for some shitty-ass, overpriced piece of paper. Running a criminal empire didn’t require a degree.
Cristian Marchetti—my father, who was also known as Monster Marchetti—was the boss of the Marchetti Mafia family. Benny served as his underboss. Our name sat on the top of every Fed’s wish list, but no matter how hard they tried to pin our crimes on us, we were always two steps ahead of them.
I aspired to be as sinister as my father.
As brutal and merciless.
Every day, I got closer.
Professor Nelson glanced up from the whiteboard when the lecture room door opened. Instinctively, he parted his lips, prepared to scold the tardy student. He slammed them shut when he found me.
I gave him a lazy salute, adding a flip of the bird for fun. His glare followed me down the aisle as I walked to the back row.
I had no respect for a man who wore a man bun and had once claimed Melville was superior to Poe. I’d take a lunatic hiding corpses beneath his floorboards over the idiot chasing a whale any day.
Last night, after leaving the wall, I had called Nico and told him to tell me everything he’d found on Blair. Judging from the slapping sounds in the background and the chick whining his name, he was mid-fuck but still managed to explain why she’d been expelled from her last university.
It confirmed what I’d already suspected. I’d chosen well, and she deserved everything coming to her.
I told Nico to hack into Saint Vale’s system and send me her class schedule. After that, I spent the rest of the night stalking everything I could find out about her, though I found very little.
She wasn’t on social media.
If you weren’t on social media, you were hiding something.
That was why I wasn’t on it.
American Gothic Lit had turned out to be the only class we shared, which was unfortunate.
I scanned the lecture hall and spotted her quickly. She sat at a desk in the third row between two morons.
Her back was straight, shoulders square, posture perfect. As Nelson droned about symbolism, she tapped her pen against her temple in sync with his words.
Unlike our classmates, she hadn’t looked at me when I arrived late.
That got under my skin.
I slid into the chair behind her, two seats away from Cedric. He glanced up from his phone, flipped me off, and resumed his texting.
Cedric and I were the only ones without laptops. We never took notes and still aced every exam.
Blair’s MacBook sat open on her desk, and the screen was dark. A notebook rested across the keyboard while she wrote in it with her left hand.
I licked my lips, imagining all the things I’d make that hand do.
Her dark brown hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and tied with a red ribbon. Six freckles dotted the nape of her neck. I wanted to take my knife and play connect the dots with it.
Resting my arms on the desk, I leaned in closer, inhaling her perfume and frowning in disappointment at the cheap scent.
Did she buy that shit at the gas station?
Anyone who willingly wanted to smell like raspberry candy deserved death row.
She’d need to fix that.
Her Saint Vale button-up was crooked at the collar, which annoyed me even more. While she matched the rest of the students in their white shirts, mine was black. So was Cedric’s. White wasn’t good for bloodstains.
Sunlight poured through the tall windows, striking her right cheek. I peered over her head, appreciating the mural of a demon sacrificing angels above the whiteboard.
Aside from the loser professor, this was my favorite class, thanks to that painting. I respected any form of art that involved slaughter.
I cracked my neck and clicked my tongue to get Blair’s attention.
Her neighbor glanced back, but not her.
I cleared my throat. Same result.
Tension knotted in my neck. I flexed my fingers, debating if she was ignoring me intentionally or just too absorbed in that notebook of hers. I made a mental note to burn that fucking thing if it became a habit.
Blair was about to learn her first lesson at Saint Vale: nobody ignored me.
If I coughed, if I so much as breathed in her direction, she needed to give me her undivided attention.
While Nelson prattled on, I stretched forward and clamped my hand around her ponytail. I pulled on it, but she didn’t react.
Heat rushed to my cock when I tugged it again. Harder this time.
Her head snapped back, and she whipped around to glare at me over her shoulder.
I settled back in my chair, keeping a straight face, waiting for her to confront me.
But all she did was narrow those green doe eyes at me.
Disappointment settled over me like dust when she spun back around. Her ponytail whipped through the air with the movement.
When she started writing again, I yanked her ponytail harder. So hard that I nearly dragged her out of the seat.
Cedric snorted beside me.
She dropped her pen, swinging entirely around to stare at me in horror. “Why are you pulling my hair?” Her voice dripped with attitude but was still soft-spoken. Like sugar laced with poison.
I smiled wickedly, now fully able to see every feature on her face.
Up close, she was prettier than I’d expected, more attractive than her school photos. Smooth skin with no blemishes. Her short bangs parted over her forehead, framing her heart-shaped face. Cheeks a subtle pink, like she’d been out in the sun for too long.
Her lips were glossy and full, and I wondered how hard I’d have to bite to make them bleed. Then I imagined them bloody while my cock made them open wider.
When I didn’t answer because I was too busy brainstorming all the ways I wanted to ruin that pretty face, she waved her hand in front of my face.
“I asked why you pulled my hair, jackass,” she snapped.
I curled my lip at her interruption.
Another nail in her coffin.
She rubbed at her scalp, waiting for my response, as if I’d waste my breath giving her one. I never answered for my violence.
“What’s your name?” I questioned.
I already knew it, obviously.
But I wanted to hear it leave her mouth. Hear how it sounded in her voice.
That way, I’d have something I could replay while planning all the things I’d do to her.
She reared back, as if I’d asked her for a lung. “Excuse me?”
I leaned in as close as I could to the desk. “Your. Name.”
Her attitude sharpened. “That’s none of your concern.”
“It’s fully my concern.”
Her thick brows furrowed. “My first name is Fuck Off. And my last? It’s I’m Reporting You to Arisono If You Pull My Hair Again.” She looked smug, clearly proud of her lame answer.
I kicked my feet up on the desk, appreciating her smart mouth. I’d punish her for it later, though.
I stared at her with pure satisfaction. “Your parents should be shot for giving you that name. Provide me with their address, and I’ll do you that favor.”
She gaped at me, her mouth falling open.
I half expected her to give me some sob story about a dead parent. Not that I’d care if she did.
Instead of arguing, she huffed and spun back around.
I chuckled. Joke was on her.
Cedric stared at me as I rolled my shoulders and pulled my knife from my pocket. I ran my finger over the blade, checking for any trace of Marv’s blood. I’d cleaned it well last night.
Cedric’s attention shifted from me to Blair.
Of course, it’d take violence to pry his attention away from texting whatever poor girl he was fucking over. Last time I had stolen his phone, I’d noticed he sent a chick’s nudes to her priest. The fucker loved violence and cruelty as much as I did.
It made sense, given we were both Marchettis. Cruelty came naturally.
I leaned forward, and my fingers twitched as I wrapped them back around Blair’s ponytail. This time, I yanked it hard enough that I knew her scalp would hurt for days.
A loud gasp rattled from her lungs. Smirking, I wrapped her hair around my wrist, holding it like a leash as she shrieked, struggling to escape my grip.
Nelson paused his lecture.
I was providing better entertainment than his mediocre teachings anyway.
I steadied my hand and cut her hair cleanly as the chair rocked underneath her.
All eyes were on us, witnessing her humiliation.
A bonus I hadn’t planned.
Before her chair tipped over, I swiftly released her.
No reason for my Fawn to get a brain injury. Not yet, at least.
I needed to have my fun first.
A shrill gasp left her when she lurched forward. She slammed her hands onto the desk to catch herself. I slipped the clump of severed hair and my knife into my pocket.
She stood, clutching her ruined and now shorter ponytail, and parted her lips in disbelief while taking in the damage I’d done. I kicked my feet up on the desk again, acting bored, and crossed my arms.
It took the poor girl a few stunned seconds to find words.
“Did you just fucking cut my hair, you asshole?” were the ones she found.
Her attitude impressed me.
I uncrossed my arms to pop my knuckles, matching her glare. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She inched closer, holding up her hair.
I rolled my eyes. She was lucky I was too lazy to snatch my knife and take off a few more inches.
At my lack of answer, she held her ponytail in front of my face. “You cut my hair, you psycho.”
I swatted the ponytail away. “I’d rather not get lice, thanks.”
She spun toward Nelson. “You all just saw that, right?” She lifted her ponytail as proof.
I loved that her voice trembled and cracked. Her being on the brink of crying made my cock hard.
It was laughable that she believed anyone would come to her rescue or stick up for her. She was at the wrong university if she thought she mattered to any student or professor here.
Like the pussy he was, Professor Nelson stared at the whiteboard and started writing nonsense about homework. The rest of the class pretended to focus on their laptops.
So many fucking cowards here.
“Seriously?” she screeched, flinging her arms toward our worthless professor. “He assaulted me!”
Nelson’s beady eyes lifted to me, squinting in my direction.
I cocked my head, daring him to challenge me.
His warning look was entertaining. I’d seen Marchetti toddlers look more threatening.
My evil smirk grew as I watched him gulp.
The glare he wanted to give me shifted to Blair. “Ms. Dupont,” he said stiffly, “do not interrupt my lecture again.”
“But—” she tried.
Nelson cut her off. “I understand you’re new here, but you are to keep all personal disputes out of lecture halls. If you have an issue with him, take it up after class. Now, face forward and pay attention.”
“Yeah, Blair,” I drawled from behind her. “We can handle this after class.”
Her mouth opened, as if to argue more, then closed. The pink in her cheeks brightened, and she whirled around, dropping back into her seat.
I slipped my hand into my pocket and touched the strands of her hair.
Shame I hadn’t cut more.
But then what would I pull when she misbehaved?
My sister Seraphina had once asked me why we had Fawns. Her voice carried a tone of curiosity and disapproval, reminding me too much of our mother. Seraphina didn’t share our father’s appetite for cruelty like me. She had too much of our mother inside her. Too much conscience.
Still, she was a Marchetti, and that blood ran too deep to erase it all.
When something she cared about was threatened, that defiant spark came out. We all had our triggers. Hers was injustice. Mine was pretty much everything.
My answer to her question had been because it was fun.
After class finally ended, the room emptied quickly. Classmates poured out like rats scurrying from a sinking ship. Even Nelson packed up faster than usual, most likely not wanting to witness whatever hell I planned to put Blair through.
I stayed where I was, eyes on Blair, who remained in her seat.
She was waiting for me to leave first. Smart girl.
It was just the two of us, and from the way she kept fidgeting in her chair, I knew she was uncomfortable with that.
Good. That was exactly how I wanted it.
I tapped my fingers slowly against my desk.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Then I leaned back in my chair and hummed a Nine Inch Nails song, whispering her name every few seconds, as if I were a demon breathing down her neck.
“Blair.” Tap, tap, tap. “Blair.” Tap, tap, tap.
“Asshole,” she muttered while standing, shoving her MacBook into a cheap leather bag without sparing me a glance.
A chill rolled through the room as I palmed my knife, slipped it free, and reached across the desk.
I sliced her tights in one clean motion.
She recoiled instantly, stumbling back a step as the fabric tore.
The rip spread along the thin black material, exposing her pale skin beneath. For a moment, I thought she might fall.
I frowned when she caught herself.
My attention dropped to the tear, the exposed strip of her skin, and a slow smirk curled across my face. The urge to kneel in front of her, to inspect my damage and see if the blade had drawn blood, ran hot through my veins.
But that would have to wait.
Like so many other things with her would.
Her eyes turned glossy. She was so close to crying that I could practically taste the tears.
I pushed back my chair and stood slowly. “Alla prossima, ratta.”
Her stare was a mixture of horror and disbelief.
I twirled the knife between my fingers, let out a slow whistle, and left.
She was a rat who’d pay for her sins.
Starting tonight.