Chapter six
I keep my hand near my backpack the entire class, fingers twitching slightly with the weight of the weapon inside.
Ever since I saw that woman, an uneasy coil of tension had wrapped itself around my spine, making it nearly impossible to focus.
The other students had noticed too—stolen glances, whispered comments. I didn't care.
Vincenzo had given me the gun this morning, sliding it into my hand with a smirk and a dry comment: "No matter how annoying you are, your family would kill me if I let anything happen to you."
He thought it was a joke but the growing pit in my stomach told me otherwise.
Mr. McQueeney strides through the lecture hall, his usual lazy gait replaced with something more determined. He hands out our final exam results with a tired expression, nodding occasionally before dismissing us.
I barely glance at mine before shoving it into my bag, careful not to let anyone see the sleek black barrel hidden beneath the stack of papers.
"Hey, Alexa! How's your brother?"
Tia's voice chirps from behind me, breaking through my fog of nerves.
She had been in a gap year before joining college, so she was slightly older than me, but we had become friends during the university tour.
Unfortunately, she had developed an unhealthy obsession with Nico—something I wanted no part in encouraging.
"Umm... he's alright," I say, trying to sound casual. "He's started seeing someone."
Her perfectly shaped brows furrow. "Oh? What's her name?"
I shrug, feigning indifference. "I don't know. She's a model, but that's all he told me."
It wasn't exactly a lie. Nico did know models. And I'd rather have her believe that than let her anywhere near him.
Tia pouts, shoving her exam results—still crumpled in her hand—into her handbag. "Where's she from?"
I roll my eyes. "No idea. You know what my brother's like."
Before she can dig further, my gaze flickers past her, landing on the glass panel by the classroom door.
A figure stands just outside, her posture rigid, her dark eyes scanning the room like a predator picking out her prey.
The woman.
Every muscle in my body locks up.
I swallow hard, pressing my lips together.
Shit.
My fingers tighten around the edge of my bag. Tia is still rambling, oblivious to my sudden shift in demeanor.
"You should go," I say, plastering on a forced smile. "You have another class, don't you?"
She laughs, shaking her head. "Oh crap, you're right!" Then, with a quick wave, she darts out of the room, disappearing into the hallway.
I wait until she's gone before standing, my movements slow and deliberate.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I discreetly slide the gun from my bag, the cold metal biting against my fingers. The weight of it is both comforting and terrifying. I tug my coat over it, ensuring it stays hidden beneath the thick fabric.
Peeking around the corner, I catch sight of another person standing beside the woman. A man.
Double shit.
I press myself against the wall, heart hammering. My mind races. If I stay here, I'll be trapped. If I walk out, I'll be cornered.
There's only one option.
I take a steadying breath before flicking the safety off my gun and aiming upwards.
With a sharp pop, the camera above their heads shatters, sparks raining down from the broken device.
Both figures snap their heads up in alarm, their eyes immediately locking onto mine.
For a split second, I do nothing. I just smile sweetly. Then, without warning, I bolt.
The fire exit slams open under my weight, and instantly, alarms blare through the building.
I don't stop to look back. The sound of hurried footsteps pounds behind me as I leap over a small wall, my legs burning from the sudden burst of speed.
Students flood out of the building, confused and panicked. I weave through them, using the crowd as cover. The man chasing me gets lost in the sea of bodies, but the woman is still there—still on my tail.
Tia appears out of nowhere, standing in the middle of the courtyard, waving enthusiastically at me. "Alexa!"
I barely dodge her, twisting at the last second. "Move!" I snap, sprinting past her bewildered expression.
My lungs scream for air by the time I spot it.
Vincenzo's black limo, parked at the far edge of the lot, sleek and unbothered as if nothing chaotic was happening.
Relief floods my chest.
"Vincenzo!" I shout, desperate now. "Any help would be nice!"
I catch sight of him through the open window, his face as frustratingly amused as ever.
He doesn't move.
He doesn't even react.
The woman fires a shot.
The bullet whizzes past my ear, so close I feel the heat of it.
Panic surges through me.
Vince still does nothing.
I don't have time to open the door. I don't have time for anything except sheer, dumb desperation.
I push off the pavement and dive straight through the window.
It's a tight fit—too tight. The rim of the glass scrapes against my hip, but somehow, somehow, I manage to tumble inside, landing hard against the limo floor.
I'm panting, shaking, the rush of adrenaline making my limbs tremble.
Vincenzo just watches me, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement. "You had that handled, didn't you, love?"
I shoot him a glare, shoving his shoulder. "I could have fucking died!"
He smirks. "I wasn't going to let you die." He leans back lazily, throwing his arm over the seat. "I need you."
I freeze.
The words send an unexpected jolt through me.
"You... need me?" My voice is barely a whisper.
Vince's smirk widens. "Of course. Your family makes mine stronger."
The warmth in my chest vanishes instantly, replaced by cold reality.
Of course. That's what he meant.
His gaze flickers over me, dark and unreadable. "Though, judging by the way you're looking at me..." He leans in, voice dropping to a sinful murmur. "I assume you need something else."
My stomach twists.
I shove him away before he can get any closer. "I don't need anything from you."
Vince chuckles lowly, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Oh? Then why don't you go to Jaxon?"
His name barely leaves my lips before Vincenzo's entire expression changes. His jaw tightens. His knuckles turn white.
I grin, slow and taunting. "I can assure you, Jax could make me feel more pleasure in two minutes than you could in half an hour."
His eyes darken.
In an instant, he grabs my wrist and yanks me beneath him, pressing me down into the leather seat. His breath fans against my throat as his hands pin mine above my head.
"You really like testing me, don't you?" he murmurs.
I shiver.
Vincenzo's grip tightens around my wrists, pinning them effortlessly above my head. His dark eyes burn into mine, filled with raw amusement and something far more dangerous—possession.
"That lowlife couldn't make your body sing like I do," he murmurs, his voice like silk laced with steel.
He leans in, his breath hot against my ear as his fingers trail down the curve of my waist, igniting every nerve in their path.
"I haven't even done anything yet, and you're already soaking for me. "
A sharp gasp escapes me as his fingertips graze the lace of my thong, teasing the delicate strings, toying with them as if he had all the time in the world.
The heat pooling between my thighs betrays me, and I curse my own body for responding to him so shamelessly.
I feel his length pressing against my thigh, thick and unyielding, and my breathing stutters.
"He... he does," I lie, though the words come out broken, weak.
Vincenzo chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through me as he dips his head to the hollow of my throat. His lips brush over my skin, barely there, before he bites down just enough to make me whimper. "Liar."
His hand slides up my stomach, tracing every dip and curve, until he palms my breast through the thin fabric of my top.
My back arches instinctively, pressing into his touch, craving more even as my mind screams at me to resist. But resistance is impossible when he's touching me like this—like he owns every inch of me, like he's proving a point neither of us wants to admit.
A desperate moan slips from my lips as he takes my other nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak before sucking just hard enough to send electricity straight to my core. My fingers dive into his dark hair, gripping tightly, needing something to ground me.
I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't want him.
But my body is betraying me with every roll of his tongue, with every possessive squeeze of his fingers.
He kisses lower, slow, deliberate, as if savouring the way I tremble beneath him. His hand slides between my thighs, brushing over my soaked lace, and I choke on a breath.
And then—suddenly—he stops.
Vincenzo pulls away like nothing happened, like he hadn't just unravelled me piece by piece. He smirks, eyes dark with amusement, and leans back against the seat.
Embarrassment floods my veins as I hastily adjust my top and smooth down my hair, my face burning with frustration, desire, and something I refuse to name.
I turn to the window, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge how easily he reduced me to this.
I need to forget what just happened.
But deep down, I know I never will.