Chapter 6 #2
And yes, I’m aware how pathetic it is that my steamiest experience involves dry humping.
I’ve had opportunities to have sex. Like, a lot of them.
I’m outgoing, I dress well, and at the risk of sounding like a conceited cunt, I’ve got great genes.
I mean, combine Papa’s absurdly handsome Nikitin DNA with that of Dad’s close friend Cora, a professional runway model, and you get a good-looking kid.
Aka, me.
You could even swap Papa’s Nikitin genes for Dad’s Bancroft ones and still get a ridiculously attractive spawn, as evidenced by my big brother Zane, who had the same surrogate and our dad’s genetic input.
I guess it’s just that I never got close enough to want to fool around with any of the boys who came calling and who weren't immediately scared off by Papa and Dad.
There was one guy, Ian, that I dated a bit in high school. Believe me, it’s not like I was in love with him or anything close to that. But eventually, heavy making out and some over-the-clothes stuff ensued, and Ian got me to sneak out of the house to meet him.
The plan was to “go all the way”, of course.
I got dressed to the nines, including a gorgeous set of matching lingerie. I snuck out of the house, which was a superhuman feat, given my two fathers.
And then, within about five seconds of meeting up, Ian tensed against me, bit my tongue, and then came.
In his pants.
We tried again three nights later. This time he made it a whole twenty seconds before blowing in his boxers again.
…Needless to say, there wasn’t a third attempt.
I told myself that college would be a whole new world that would offer all kinds of opportunities. But then I spent freshman year building my Villainess platform and having the best time ever with my friends. Well, and studying.
Who has time for boys who jizz in their pants with all that going on?
“Hey, you!”
Wren’s exclamation tugs me out of my head. I glance up from where I’m sprawled on one of the couches in Morvaine Manor just as Yelena walks in, followed by a tall, good-looking guy with short dark hair and ice-blue eyes.
“The heck have you been?” Wren frowns.
Yelena rolls her eyes and glances down at her outfit: running shoes, shorts, tank top.
“Attending a black-tie event,” she says, smirking at Wren. “Jeez, I was out running. Clingy much?”
“So much,” Wren giggles as she looks past Yelena to Damiano, the tall model-looking guy who walked in with her. “Thanks for bringing her home,” she sighs. “She gets off her leash sometimes and just runs away—”
“Swear to God, I’m going to smother you in your sleep tonight,” Yelena groans, laughing as she walks over, grabs a pillow off the couch, and whacks her suitemate in the face with it.
“Yeah, well, I found her running off-leash alone at night,” Damiano grunts with a dark look on his face as eyes Yelena. “Use your head, Lena.”
Damiano Barone is the head of The Order, not to mention heir to the Barone mafia family in New York. He’s also Lucia’s first cousin.
Personally, he’s not my type, but that’s probably because I grew up with him almost as if he was my first cousin, too. His father Carmine, who's the current don of the Barone family, has been best friends with my papa his whole life.
Cousin-adjacent aside, though, Dame is a handsome guy.
He’s tall and built, with broad shoulders and powerful arms from all the boxing he does.
A few tattoos run up his biceps, disappearing into the sleeves of his black t-shirt.
He wears his dark hair buzzed short. Honestly, he always makes me think of Brad Pitt near the end of Fight Club.
Yelena sighs and shoots Damiano a look. “I was fine. It’s the freaking Knightsblood campus, not Kabul.”
Damiano’s heavy dark brow furrows. “Need I remind you of the still-unsolved murder barely two miles from here?”
Okay, he's got a point. Hawthorne Hollow was shaken up right before school started this fall by the discovery of a young woman’s body on the rocky beach just outside of town, alongside a suitcase full of clothes apparently belonging to her.
The local police haven’t been able to identify her yet, so they’ve taken to calling her “Jane Doe” in the local news.
Her cause of death is still also unknown, but everyone is calling it a murder.
“Yeah, because I need a fucking babysitter.” Yelena exhales heavily after Damiano gives her another reproachful look as he leaves the room.
Arianna frowns. “He’s not wrong, Lena. You shouldn’t be out running this late alone, not right now.”
Yelena starts to open her mouth. Then a sudden blush creeps over her face before she shakes it away.
“It was fine. I was fine.” Her brow furrows as she glances at the doorway where Damiano just left.
Wren arches a brow. “What’s up?”
Yelena shakes her head. “Nothing. I just…” She frowns and glances at Lucia. “Does he ever seem like he’s up to something? Dame, I mean?”
Lucia snorts. “Well, yeah, because he’s a serial killer. Duhh.”
The rest of us go silent as we turn to stare at her, dumbstruck.
Lucia giggles. “Guys, that was a joke?” She snorts.
“He’s always been an insane neat freak about everything.
I mean even worse than you, Galina. Seriously, when we were kids, if he got his hands dirty playing outside, he would basically scrub a layer of skin off.
” She eyes us. “He still does that. Seriously. Poke your head into his shower sometime. I guarantee, he’s got one of those sandpaper-level loofahs. ”
Wren grins. “Like the murderer in the movie uses so they don’t leave DNA?”
“Exactly,” Lucia laughs. “I mean, even as a kid, his room was always spotless. He used to line up his toy cars and action figures by size or color. Uncle Carmine and Aunt Lyra used to worry about it, I think. But it’s truly just Dame being a psycho neat freak.”
Arianna makes a face. “Yeah, or a psycho serial killer.”
A few minutes later, Yelena goes upstairs to shower. I use the distraction of Lucia, Wren, and Ari debating if Damiano Barone is secretly an ax murderer to open my phone and take a peek at my Velvet Villainess account.
…Which has something like a trillion new mentions in the comments of The Ghost Prince’s latest video.
Great.
I switch to my own comments, scrolling through the hundred or so that were left in the last twenty minutes on the new post. It’s all the usual stuff: mostly female fans telling Villainess how great she looks, how awesome she is, how much they loved the book, that she dropped her crown emoji…
But that’s it.
There’s not another incendiary comment from him.
…And goddammit, do I hate that the emotion I feel is “crestfallen”.
I’m bummed that he hasn’t made an appearance in the comments section.
…Or in real life.
God, what is wrong with me?
When I opened my phone just now, I told myself I was looking for a comment from him in the same way you’d scan your surroundings for a threat.
Instead, I’m disappointed that he hasn't left one.
Hmm.
Maybe my friends are righter than they know when they tease me about how coo-coo I am for my fictional red-flag men.
Maybe my obsessions are hemorrhaging too heavily into real life.
In the real world, a masked man using blackmail to force you into giving him a lap dance, who tells you there’ll be a “next time” and who then stalks you across social media platforms is a threat.
Not a swoon-worthy “book boyfriend”.
Get it together, Galina.
I scowl to myself as I think about the other night again, and his casual threat…or was it a promise?…of a “next time”. Slowly, the absurd “disappointed” feeling from him not commenting again turns into anger at what transpired the other night.
Like, how fucking dare he?
Blackmail is fucking blackmail, and I’m not going to live my life in fear of any “next time”.
My mouth purses as I open my account again and deftly navigate to The Ghost Prince’s profile to send him a DM.
Like, fuck you, creep.
Velvet Villainess
Delete that video.
I’m about to put my phone down and rejoin the conversation, which has segued from Damiano being a Dexter-type serial killer to Wren talking some excellent shit about her ex, Bryce.
But then I get a reply.
The Ghost Prince
which one?
My pulse spikes as I glare at the screen.
Velvet Villainess
You know which one. The one you’re holding over my head as blackmail, motherfucker.
The Ghost Prince
Oh.
I stare at the screen, my anger swelling. Oh?!
Velvet Villainess
Yeah, “Oh”. Delete it. Now.
The Ghost Prince
Okay.
My brow furrows.
Velvet Villainess
Really?
The Ghost Prince
lol, no.
Velvet Villainess
Asshole.
I’m about to close the app when it lights up with a reply.
The Ghost Prince
Let’s not fight, baby. I don’t like us fighting.
I roll my eyes.
Velvet Villainess
Trust me, we’re NOT an us.
The Ghost Prince
Ouch, baby :(
I start to chew on my bottom lip.
Velvet Villainess
I’m sure you’re real bent out of shape about it.
The Ghost Prince
Maybe I am. I really thought we were. I already told my mom about you.
I refuse to acknowledge the hint of a smile teasing at the corners of my lips.
Velvet Villainess
Why the fuck would you think we’re an us?
The Ghost Prince
Well, when a girl gives a boy her panties, and he uses those panties to jerk off seven times in three days while thinking about said girl…
My face turns to lava as I stare open-mouthed at my phone.
The Ghost Prince
I guess I thought that meant something. But maybe I’m old-fashioned.
My throat bobs as I swallow heavily, my face throbbing.
Velvet Villainess
Do you enjoy doing this?
The Ghost Prince
Jerking off with your panties? Immensely.
Velvet Villainess
NO.
Velvet Villainess
Scaring me.
The Ghost Prince
Am I scaring you?
Velvet Villainess
No. But you’re trying to.
The Ghost Prince
If I was actively trying to scare you, the next time I break into your room while you’re asleep, I’ll wake you up.
My whole body goes numb, my jaw dropping as I stare at the screen.
He’s fucking with me. Obviously he's fucking with me.
Velvet Villainess
Excuse me??
The Ghost Prince
;).