Chapter 43
Forty-Three
Daphne
My alarm this morning was courtesy of Blair barging into my room in the Fawn Quarters.
Or rather, my afternoon alarm since it was twelve thirty. I’d been so exhausted I’d slept in later than I ever had.
“Daph! I’ve been calling you all morning, and then I remembered you didn’t have your phone.” She shut the door with her hip while carrying two lattes from the university coffee bar.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and scooted up until I was propped against the headboard. A yawn escaped me as I eyed the latte like it held the cure to every problem I had.
I looked from the latte to the empty space beside me.
I frowned, hating that Brooks had slipped out sometime this morning without waking me.
Blair, already dressed in her uniform, held one of the cups out to me. “Drink this. You need to be fully alert for what I’m about to tell you.”
“Okay …” I carefully took the latte from her. “You’re scaring me.”
She sat at the end of my bed with her latte cradled between both hands.
“How bad is whatever you’re about to tell me?” I blew across the opening in the lid before taking a sip.
“Pretty bad,” she said softly.
I took another sip, wishing it had liquor in it. The expression on her face told me she wasn’t just being dramatic for once. “What is it?”
“Which do you want first? Bad or worse?”
“Is there a good option?”
She shook her head, staring at me over the rim of the cup.
“Fine,” I sighed. “Let’s go with bad.”
She set her drink down, pulled out her phone, tapped the screen a few times, then handed it to me. “Here you go.”
I took it, nearly dropping my latte in my lap when I saw the social media post on the screen. It was a photo of Brooks and me with a headline claiming we’d been spotted together at a club.
“What the …” I gasped. “No one acted like they recognized me.”
Were they just playing pretend?
I chugged the latte, threw the blankets off me, and handed her phone back. “I need to talk to Brooks.”
She nodded and handed me my phone. “Grabbed it off your bed before I came down here.”
I shot her a grateful smile before calling Brooks. He didn’t answer.
I tried three more times. All went straight to voicemail.
With shaking fingers, I resorted to texting him.
Me: Call me ASAP.
If Blair had seen it, Brooks already knew.
Which meant the rest of the Sons probably did too.
“Did Enzo tell you about this?” I asked Blair while pulling up the news article on my phone. “Or did you see it on social media?”
“Enzo told me about it.”
“Now that you’ve delivered the bad news, what could possibly be the worse?”
She tapped her screen a few times before handing it back.
My heart nearly stopped.
“They’re trying to label Brooks as a traitor?” I jumped out of bed and stripped out of my pajamas. “That’s a fucking lie! I was with him at the club, and he never said any of that. Is Enzo on campus?”
“Let me ask.” She started texting. “I haven’t talked to him for a few hours, after he kissed me goodbye this morning and left. My guess is, he’s been dealing with this.”
While she texted Enzo, I fired off three more texts to Brooks, begging him to call me.
I wouldn’t let him go down for a lie.
I was his Fawn. I’d protect him. I’d protect the truth.
“I wonder if this has anything to do with us being shot at last night.” I started dressing in my uniform.
Blair stopped mid-text. “Wait, you were shot at last night?”
“Girl, you have no idea the days I’ve had since I’ve been gone.”
“As much as I want to sit on that bed and have you tell me everything, that has to wait for now.”
I loved how our minds worked alike.
We both thrived on drama, but we also knew this wasn’t the time for it. We’d seen firsthand what happened to people who exposed the Night Sons.
We left my room the second my shoes were on. I followed Blair through the hall, up the stairs, and outside. Our quarters connected to the First Benefactors Building, and it was a decent walk back to campus.
We hurried through the garden filled with colorful flowers and flowing fountains I’d have loved to admire if we had the time. A gate creaked as Blair opened it, and we passed gravestones.
“Do you know how to get to Brooks’s dorm?” Blair asked.
“Nope. But can we go to Enzo’s? See if he’s there?”
“He might kill me for bringing you there, but this is an emergency. He’ll have to get over it.”
I pulled her into a hug.
It was a fifteen-minute walk to reach the main building. Blair led me up the stairs to the third floor, near the back, before stopping at a locked gate. She dug a key from her pocket, unlocked the padlock, and shoved it open.
There was only one door in the short hall. She unlocked it, and I followed her inside.
I checked my phone for the millionth time. “Ugh.” Still nothing from Brooks.
I took in Enzo’s room. The walls were painted dark—a violation of SVU rules that Enzo clearly didn’t give a shit about. It was more of an apartment than a dorm, complete with a living room and kitchenette.
“This is nice,” I commented just as my phone finally vibrated in my hand with a text.
Brooks: Go to all your classes.
I couldn’t reply fast enough.
Me: Where are you?
Me: Is everything okay?
Brooks: Go to your classes. This is a normal day.
Me: Normal, my ass. I saw the articles!
Brooks: You didn’t see anything, Daph. Pls go to class.
“Is that Brooks?” Blair asked over her shoulder as she pulled a Dr Pepper from Enzo’s fridge. She tossed another one to me.
I nodded. “He told me to go to class.”
She twisted off the cap, took a sip, and checked her phone. “Yep. Enzo told me to do the same.”
“Bossy pricks,” I grumbled.
“We’d better get to class then.” She headed toward the door.
“Don’t you want to figure this out?”
“They’re Sons. They’ll figure it out.”
“Blair, they could kill Brooks.”
She was far too calm for my liking. “Enzo won’t let that happen.”
“Enzo isn’t all the Sons.”
“I told him you were at the club with Brooks last night. Someone is lying.”
I lifted my drink toward her phone. “Text him again. Say that all of them can question me if need be.”
She opened the door halfway before glancing back at me. “Do you really want to be questioned by the Sons? That’s fucking terrifying.”
“I will if it means Brooks won’t die.”
A smile played at her lips. “There was a time when you wanted him to die.”
She was right. Or at least, there’d been a time I pretended to.
If they killed Brooks for this, I’d no longer have to put up with his bullying. His bossiness. I’d no longer be his Fawn.
But a life without Brooks didn’t sound like much of a life at all.
I gave Blair a really? look.
She waggled her finger at me. “I always knew you were lying. You’ve been in L-O-V-E with that man for years.” She sighed dramatically. “I love it when a Night Son love story comes together.”
I did what Brooks had told me and went to class.
Of all my classes, it had to be Women’s Studies.
I sat at my desk, fidgeting and checking my phone every few seconds.
The lecture hall slowly filled as I nervously wondered who’d be teaching today. There was no way Brooks had faked Sinclair’s murder like he had my father’s.
I was there. Saw the blood. Mopped it freaking up.
Sinclair was no longer breathing on this earth, which meant he could no longer teach this class.
Guilt gnawed at me for that.
If it weren’t for me, he’d still be alive. He’d be here, being a crappy human being, yes, but he’d at least be able to kiss his children goodnight.
All conversation suddenly stopped.
I dragged myself from my thoughts and looked toward the front of the room.
I gasped when Cedric walked toward the desk, carrying a leather briefcase. His height alone dominated the room, and his presence, like all the other Sons, demanded your full attention.
He’d never attended this class before. We actually didn’t have any classes together since he was a senior.
One girl whistled. Another fanned herself.
The guy to my right said, “Fuck, that guy is so cool.”
Cedric wasn’t a professor, but he was dressed like one. All the Mafia men had their own personal styles. Of all of them, Cedric’s was the most sophisticated.
He dropped the briefcase onto the desk with a heavy thud and rolled the chair out from the desk. Silence settled over the room as he unclasped the briefcase.
I leaned in closer, elbows on the desk, seeing what was inside. I rolled my eyes when I saw only a bottle of bourbon. Nothing else.
“Hello, class,” he greeted, unscrewing the bourbon lid and taking a swig.
“Unfortunately, your teacher is”—he stopped to click his tongue against the roof of his mouth—“unavailable to teach class today. The university needed a replacement, so they thought what better person to teach about this great subject than me?” He cupped his hands together and placed them against his chest. “I consider myself an expert in this field.”
I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes again.
Cedric was notorious for ruining people’s lives who had wronged him. That included women.
Rumor had it, a girl he’d been seeing demanded he go public with her, and when he refused, she stood up in class and announced all the dirty things he liked in bed.
He’d sent her nudes to her priest as his revenge.
“If the topic is women, let’s discuss things they should never have to do.” He snatched a marker from the mug, which served as a makeshift pen holder, turned, and tapped it against the whiteboard. “Fellas, this is mainly for you dumbasses, so listen the fuck up.”
Shockingly, the guys in the room opened their laptops or notebooks and started taking notes, as if he were about to deliver the Ten Commandments, while Cedric started writing a list on the board.
You never make a woman pay for shit.
Whatever she wants for dinner, you make sure that’s what she gets. Even if you have to take a jet to get there.
Always make her come before you do. That’s mandatory.
The way he was trying to act like he was all pro-women was laughable, but I knew his mom—a Mafia princess—was strict about how they viewed the roles of women.
The Marchetti men worshipped the women in their family and never showed disrespect toward them.
Gemma always talked about what good brothers Cedric and Nico were.
Once, after Cedric had tried to ban her from social media, she burned every one of his sweaters.
In response, he replaced his wardrobe and bought her a Chanel bag as an apology.
Gemma insisted their mother had forced her to apologize, but at least she had gotten a new bag out of it.
Giving everyone time to take their notes, Cedric turned on his heel and took a drink of bourbon.
“Now, let’s discuss the female G-spot. Any ladies want to come down here and help me out?”
I covered my mouth as hands went up in the air.
No way would he … no freaking way.
“Mr. Marchetti.”
Everyone turned toward the doorway as Arisono rushed inside.
“Yes?” Cedric asked, taking a gulp while winking at a girl in the front row.
“We do not need a substitute for this class.” She was careful with her words. Even as Headmaster, she knew that the Sons ruled above her.
“Who’s going to teach it then?” he asked. “It appears your professor failed to show up and teach this wonderful subject to my fellow students.” He flicked a marker toward the board. “Don’t worry. I know this material well. I’ll do a good job. Don’t believe me? Have a seat and see.”
Arisono clasped her hands in front of her, her focus fully on us. “Class is canceled for the day. You’re all free to go.” When no one moved, her voice rose into a scream. “Out now! Unless you all want to be suspended!”
Her threat sent everyone to their feet. Students scrambled to pack their belongings, a few dropping books and notebooks on the floor.
I waited until everyone, including Arisono, cleared out of the room before slowly making my way toward Cedric, who was now parked in Sinclair’s chair and texting.
“Hey,” I said nervously.
I’d been around this man more times than I could count, but it was never in a situation as dire as Brooks possibly being labeled as a traitor.
“Yeah?” he asked, not looking up from his phone.
“Cedric,” I stressed, needing his full attention.
He ran a hand through his thick hair while sparing me a single glance. “What?”
I shuffled closer to his side, sitting on the edge of the desk. “Where’s Brooks?”
“Don’t know. I’m not his handler.”
“Is he in trouble with the Sons?”
He pushed the chair back, stood, and slid his phone into his slacks pocket. “Why would I tell you that?”
“I was at the club with him,” I said as he finished off the last of the bourbon and shoved the empty bottle back into the briefcase. “He didn’t say one word about the Sons. Whoever wrote that article is lying … or their source lied to them.”
He zipped up the briefcase and stared at me, his cocoa-brown eyes hard with distrust.
The guy who’d been joking about the female G-spot minutes ago was gone. It was like I’d suddenly become the Sons’ enemy.
“Don’t leave campus, or you’ll regret it, Daphne,” he said before leaving me alone in the lecture hall.