7. Victoria

GrabbingBonnie the nail-studded bat with one hand and my book bag with the other, I sling the bag over my shoulder as I head down the stairs. As much as every instinct is screaming at me to go with Cian, even just to wait in the car for him, I know I’ve got my own fatherly shit to deal with. Grades up or any chance of a power once I leave here, vanishes. I’m no mug. I know the fucking score, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me fail. Not now, not ever. Making my way out of the house, I pause to look above the door. I can’t see any cams, but that’s Luke for you. Still, I stick my middle finger up at them and turn to make my way across campus.

When I reach the quad, I stop and shake my head with a smile. Someone is watching me and it’s not just because I’m a hot piece of ass. I know when eyes are on me. It makes my spine tingle. I don’t give them the satisfaction of turning around to look, but I do make a point of twirling the cricket bat around and around, making sure everyone can see it. People back off. It’s something I’m used to. They think I’m crazy, and maybe I am a little. Past events have made me that way, not to mention growing up with my dad. All the students here are a little unhinged, but me? They think I belong in a straitjacket. It doesn’t bother me. I’m not a people person, so the more assholes who stay away from me, the better.

I make a beeline for the lecture hall, my boots thumping against the cobblestones, Bonnie held close like she’s part of me.

As I push open the heavy door to the lecture hall, I spot Gianluca Etienne—Cian’s left-hand man, if that’s a thing—leaning against the wall, his phone out as he pretends to be engrossed in whatever’s on the screen. But his eyes flick up to mine for a split second.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head at my over-the-top protective boyfriend. Cian needs to be reminded that I’m not some idiot who needs a bodyguard. Although a girl could do worse. Raking my gaze over the incredibly hot Prince of Esteria, some teeny country nestled on the Italian border, I lick my lips. I’m not the only one looking at him. Men and women alike are practically panting at this presence here, which is an anomaly. He is a history major, not Crim Psych.

I slip into my usual seat at the back of the class, dropping Bonnie onto the table with a clatter that earns me a few wary looks. Professor Marshall doesn’t even bat an eyelid; he’s got his own demons and is probably on something just to get through his lectures. He drones on about psychological theory, but my mind keeps drifting back to that fucking box and who would send me such a twisted gift.

After a few minutes of trying to pay attention to the monotonous lecture, I give up and start scribbling in my notebook, not notes but doodles, pictures of sharp objects and spirals that seem to have no beginning or end. It’s therapeutic in a fucked-up way, helps me keep the edge off. I can’t afford distractions right now.

The lecture finally drags to an end, and I grab Bonnie, ignoring the wide berth the other students give me as I exit. Gianluca is still there with a sexy half-smirk on his face when he sees me notice him. Not that it’s fucking hard or anything.

“Nice of you to stick around,” I say, approaching him. My tone is sarcastic, but there’s a trace of something else, too. A dark thrill because even though it pisses me off to be babysat, Gianluca’s presence is distracting.

“It’s not exactly a hardship,” he says, his eyes drinking me in like he has all the time in the world. Fuck. He’s flirting with me. We barely speak. I never see him without Cian around, and even then, Cian keeps my attention most of the time. This is new and unusual.

I roll my eyes again but can’t suppress a giggle. The man has charm leaking out of every pore. “Just don’t get too comfortable. Once Cian’s back from his old man’s joyless summit, you’ll be back to grunt work.”

He laughs—a rich sound that seems out of place in these sterile halls. “I doubt it will be that simple.” He steps closer. His nearness is startling and sends a shiver racing down my spine that feels a lot like danger mixed with excitement. “Cian trusts me with his life, and you are his life. He’s not taking any chances.”

There’s a challenge in his eyes, and part of me wants to take it up. “Is that right?” My voice is low, and the air between us is charged with something fierce.

Gianluca nods slowly, a calculated move as he closes the gap even more. “Absolutely.”

I can feel the heat of his hot body against mine, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t affect me.

Gianluca towers over me and reaches out to brush my hair away from my neck, his gaze on my lips.

Fuck. He’s good. I’ll give him that.

“Look, Princey. I don’t need eyes on me.”

“Who said they’re on you?” He smiles, slow and sexy and I feel my pussy go damp. I’m still in need of a proper fucking since Cian used me this morning and it’s affecting my ability to think straight.

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “So Cian didn’t send you here to watch over me?”

“I know you don’t need that. I’m here to see who is watching you, princess.”

“Princess, hmm? That means more coming from you.”

He doesn’t say anything, just steps back and lets me pass by, wishing I had the guts to jump him. But I’m not that girl. I love Cian. He is a twisted fucker with demons bigger than most, and our relationship would be labelled toxic by anyone who doesn’t understand it. But what they don’t realise is that I’m twisted, too. Childhood sexual abuse will do that to a girl, and you deal how you deal. For me, it’s to bury it deep and take my rage and pain out on anyone who looks at me wrong. I won’t ever be a victim again, even if that means I’m an aggressor. I don’t give a fuck. I protect myself now like I couldn’t back then. Plain and simple.

I stride out of the building, letting the cool air hit my face and trying to shake off the lingering warmth of Gianluca’s proximity. Fuck, that man knows how to push buttons I didn’t even realise I had. But I can’t let any of that shit get to me. Cian is all that matters, his fucked-up love is what keeps me sane, in that fucked-up sort of way.

He probably won’t even be at his dad’s house yet, so I don’t bother texting. I know without a shadow of a doubt, he will be checking up on me as soon as he parks up. He can’t help himself.

The world seems to recede with every step I take, swallowed by the shadows that are as much a part of me as my own skin. I’ve got an hour to kill before my next class and a mind that won’t sit still, so I head to the campus café, hoping a strong coffee will be the ticket.