Chapter 15 Lev
LEV
Of course, I followed her. Of course, Zeno had one of his cars delivered to the school in case we needed it.
Of course, her phone’s being tracked within my software. That was set up before she even arrived at the dorms. It was never my intention for us to be apart, and after Zeno’s description of her behaviour, I refused to take a chance, figuring it’d only be a matter of time before she gave me the slip.
I just didn’t think it’d be the second day on the job.
Which is why when she insisted on leaving, I didn’t fight or chase after her. I let her leave the building before trailing and watching as she climbed into a black car with a male figure—hopefully Vitale.
Then, I drove the car Zeno sent and tracked her to the outskirts of Rome, to a town surrounding a lake. When her boyfriend turned down a side road towards a tiny lookout, I figured out what kind of night I’d be in for.
I park along the main road, because following them to the secluded area would be too obvious, and sneak through the small forest surrounding it to watch from the shadows.
I’ve seen Vanessa kiss Zeno and felt absolutely nothing.
I’ve unfortunately witnessed my sister kiss other men and felt disgust—for them.
Watching Serafina be kissed, touched, held against a tree with his hand up her dress, not only felt wrong but had my muscles tensing. All except the ones jerking towards the gun tucked into my waistband.
I don’t know why.
But it’s wrong.
A wrongness that’ll hopefully end soon, if her boyfriend is indeed Vitale. The blasted sky is too dark to make much out, and the asshole switched his car’s headlights off. Even with my phone zoomed in as much as it can be, his features are too blurry to make out.
When Serafina moves from of the shadows, her expression kills me.
Pain.
Fuck this.
Halfway out of my hiding place, she shoves him away, so I remain, preferring not to make my presence known unless needed.
“We’re done,” she announces in a chilling tone before walking away.
“Where the hell are you going?” Impatience rings in his voice, and while I should be watching him, hoping for an identity, it’s Serafina my attention remains on.
“Home!” She twists for the trees, walking straight at me. Not that she’s aware I’m here—and lucky for her, I am. The girl’s walking a dangerous line by breaking up with him at night, in the dark, away from civilization.
“Get the fuck back here, Serafina! Don’t be a child.”
“Go die, culo.”
Guessing that isn’t an affectionate nickname.
She slips between two trees, and I lunge from my hiding spot before she notices me. My hand wraps her wrist, spinning her around until her back’s against my chest, and my free hand slaps over her mouth to muffle potential screams as I drag her backwards.
“It’s me. Don’t yell.”
I release her to face me. Her expression scrunches, presumably in anger or annoyance, but she can be irritated another time. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Be happy I am.”
A car door slamming shut followed by a loud shout in Italian gains our attention. Her boyfriend slips into his car and backs away. With my own muffled curse, I release Serafina, intending to go after him—schematics not yet figured out—but the tires kick up dirt in his rush to get away.
Then, he’s gone, and I have no proof of his identity.
Blyat.
Serafina approaches, her shoes cracking over the terrain. If I didn’t follow them, the asshole really would have left her out here, where fuck knows what or who could attack her.
I’m going to kill him for his damn lack of respect.
With an aggravated feeling in my throat, almost a growl, I turn to her, stopping at the sight, immobile like a bullet’s jammed into my gut.
Tears line her eyes, a drop halfway down her cheek.
Blyat. He’s made her cry.
Crying confuses me. I never know how to react, what to do or say.
If possible, I let Anastasia or literally anyone else handle the tearful person, but right now, there is no one else.
While tears typically make me want to bolt, Serafina’s keep me grounded.
My head thumps, and this time, it’s not for reasons relating to noise, but rather, confusion. Always confusion with this woman.
“Can we go home?”
She’s staring at me with eyes wider than ever, with an expression halfway broken and halfway depressed. Her shoulders are bent in on themselves, her disposition low. She reminds me of myself when I’m dragged to social events, which thankfully have been minimal since Vanessa’s takeover.
“Da, let’s go.”
There’s only one place I want to go, and that’s after her dick of a boyfriend, but it isn’t what Serafina needs.
To realize the truth behind my presence when I drag us halfway around Rome searching for his car wouldn’t be wise.
She needs comfort and safety, and while I’m uncertain how to give those, returning to campus is a start.
She follows me through the small patch of woods towards the car parked nearby. I lead her to the passenger side and open the door. She’s silent when climbing in, and by the time I’m in my own spot, she’s buckled and twisted to the door, her head against the seat.
Thank fuck she doesn’t need to talk about it, because that may very well be the limit of my capabilities. Would I try? Fuck yeah, for her. Because somehow, Serafina Mancini has this ability to drag me from my comfort zone and make the uncomfortable easier.
As the trip goes on, I’m almost wishing she’d talk, or at least face me. Anything but blankly staring at the door, body stiff. She’s without her usual spunkiness, which freaks me out and suggests she really isn’t well.
Like she reads my mind, she puts me out of my misery by asking, “Were you there the entire time?”
“Da.”
“How’d you know where we went?”
She’d never be able to get the tracking software off her phone because she wouldn’t know where to look for it, so for the sake of her own mood, I remain silent, letting her fill in the blanks with whatever creative reason she invents.
She doesn’t probe further, and after five more minutes of silence, I choke up the question I really need to know.
A question that’d be easy for anyone else to ask but takes real effort from me.
Three of those five minutes were spent mentally wording and re-wording it so it comes out clear—normal, the way anyone else would ask it.
“Are you okay?”
Her silence lasts a full ten seconds—I count every single one, assuming I fucked up. I should have remained quiet and not asked what was in my head.
Finally, as we pass under a streetlight that reveals the misery on her face, she whispers, “No.”
“I’m sorry.” That’s appropriate to say, right?
“I liked him but didn’t completely trust him either, you know? The longer we were together, the more the red flags popped up.”
To think I ever wanted this conversation to begin… “He hurt you.”
“Sì.” She glances at her lap, biting her bottom lip. “I don’t really want to talk about this right now. Once was enough. I just want to go to bed.”
“We’re almost there.”
She’s silent, and again, it should be everything I want…but it’s not. She’s hurt. She’s sad. I don’t know what the fuck to do about it other than turn around and hunt her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend?
“What’s his name?” If she’ll admit that much, it’s one step closer to getting Zeno what he requires.
“Does it matter?”
Yes, yes, it does. If I say anything but no, she’ll grow suspicious.
Eventually, we arrive at the dorm. Once we pull into an empty spot, she asks what I’ve been expecting since the start of the trip. “Where’d the car come from?”
“It’s one of Zeno’s. He figured it’d be smart for us to have transportation, just in case. Or, if you wanted to see your mother on weekends, we have a way to get there.”
She follows me out of the car, the parking lot lights catching on her downturned mouth. “Seriously?”
“Why would I lie?” The only time I’ve ever lied was to Vanessa and Zeno about her sleeping in my bed. And I suppose to Serafina about the real reason I’m here, except following orders doesn’t really count.
“I don’t know. Seems being a taxi is a bit more than your job description.”
I open the door for her with a tap of the entrance card and then step in front of her to get the elevator as well. “My job description is whatever keeps you safe.”
She peers up at me, the blue of her eyes more murky than usual, clouded by grey—by tears—placed there by a man who doesn’t deserve to lick her shoes. “Like tonight?”
“Exactly.”
She’s quiet until the elevator dings at our floor. “Sorry you had to.” It’s so soft, I barely hear her over the doors screeching open. “As soon we got there, I regretted leaving with him at all.”
Inside the dorm, she cuts straight to her bedroom, returning within seconds with a towel slung one arm and tears still in her eyes. “I’m going to shower this entire night off me. Good night, if I don’t see you again.”
She’ll see me again. I head for the couch to update Zeno, keeping details to a minimum for her benefit. Physically, she’s fine, and that’s probably all he cares about. She’d be pissed if I admitted everything.
Although…she’s his responsibility, not mine, and if roles were reversed and Ana was in trouble, damn right, I’d want to know.
Me
She went out with him tonight. Picked her up in this car. I followed. Didn’t get too close enough in case he realized he’s being followed.
I think they broke up. They fought. He started to touch her, but she pushed him away. Yelled that they were over.
Zeno Mancini
Good. Not good. Fuck. Goddammit.
Me
I tried to get a picture, but there was no light.
Zeno Mancini
Please don’t let her out of your sight, especially now. If this is the Vitales, they won’t accept her rejection lying down.
Me
I won’t.
Zeno Mancini
Other than tonight, everything else okay? She getting used to you being there?
Me
Unwillingly, but yes.
The bathroom door opens, and she steps into the common area, wet hair bound up.
Water drips from it, down her bare shoulders and arms before decorating the floor.
Her skin’s darker from the water’s temperature.
She clutches the towel tighter and hikes it as high as possible—which only reveals more thigh.
No part of this is good for my insides trying to unknot themselves.
“You’re still up.”
“I won’t be going to bed for a while.” Especially not now. Images of her in this towel will mean no sleep for the next month.
“Oh.” She shifts, and the movement lowers her towel until the swells of her breasts are visible.
My fuck. My stare bores into my laptop’s screen—anywhere that isn’t her. She needs to put on clothing right fucking now.
“Thank you for being there. I was prepared to walk to the town and call a taxi. Or you.”
“Good instincts.”
She smiles—if a strained press of her lips can be called that. Her eyes are lined a combination of red from crying and black from smudged makeup she never completely wiped off. “Well, goodnight.”
“Night, Fina.”
What?
Printessa is one thing—more of a mocking name to annoy her than anything meaningful. But shortening her name? A proper nickname, like Ana’s, isn’t…me. Names are names and nothing less.
But it slipped out, without thought, rhyme, or reason, and now it’s unable to be clawed back. Even her fucking name…nothing about this woman makes me sane.
She blinks, tilting her head a fraction. A few strands of hair fall onto her shoulder, water dripping from the ends toward the curve of her breast, kissing the towel’s edge.
I’ll admit, I follow that water with as much intensity as I code.
“Fina?”
There is no decent explanation. “I mean—sorry. So many call you Sera, and that’s probably what you prefer, right? Or your full name?”
“No.” She shakes her head, her expression still a little dazed. “I mean, yeah. Yeah, most people call me Sera, but it’s not what I prefer. No one’s ever called me Fina. I like it.”
Then Fina it is. “Okay,” I reply, because how else can this conversation end? “Night, Fina.”
“Night, Lev.”
Her voice lingers long after she’s gone.
As does her scent.