Page 3 of Ruthless Mafia Heir

"Thanks," I reply, though I’m sure she’s just gassing me up. I tug at my hair, trying to get it to sit right against my shoulders, but it still looks a mess no matter what I try to do.

"You ready to head out?" she asks, and I nod, finding myself looking forward to unwinding. I don’t go out a whole lot these days since I’m always trying to balance work and studies. I don’t have a lot of time to think about anything other than staying on top of everything that I need to do, even if sometimes I find myself jealous of the girls who roll in to an early lecture with stories from the night before. I can’t have a social life right now, not yet, but it’s not always going to be like that.

I hope.

We head across to the event hall, an enormous converted cathedral with giant stained-glass windows that cast a glowing golden light across the flagstone floor. The place is already filling up, maybe 50, 100 students already sipping on drinks and picking at the expensive canapes being whisked around the room by experienced waiters. I grab one with crab and pop it into my mouth, trying not to think about how long it’s been since I last ate.

I scan the room to try and find Hanna. I want to talk to her, tell her how much I enjoyed her lecture earlier. I’m sure she will remember me, though not exactly for the right reasons, given that I interrupted her when she was in the middle of her flow...

I spot her, over by the drinks table. She looks a lot smaller than she did when she was in the lecture hall, and she’s already surrounded by students who seem to be interrogating her. I feel a twist in my chest, nerves catching me off guard. I know I have as much a right to be here as anyone else does, but sometimes, I feel like I’m about to be cast out on the spot, like a vampire trying to enter a church, for rubbing elbows with people of this caliber.

"Go on, talk to her!” Rachel urges me as she hands me a glass of champagne, sensing my nerves.

"I don’t know, she looks busy..."

"You came here because you wanted to speak to her, right?" she reminds me, digging her elbow into my side. "Go talk to her."

I take a sip of my champagne, hoping it’ll imbue me with the Dutch courage I need to get through this, and make my way across the crowded room toward her.

When I reach her, she’s in conversation with a man, someone I’ve seen before around campus a few times. He stands a good head taller than me, dark hair curling down just below his ears, and he has deep brown eyes that flicker in the gold light cast from the windows around me.

"...it’s a pleasure to have someone of your standing at the university, Hanna," he tells her, and I hover just behind them, feeling beyond awkward. Can I just cut in? I try to catch her eye, but she hardly seems to notice me. The man shifts slightly and sees me standing there.

"Ah, my champagne," he remarks, and he reaches to take the glass from my hand. My eyes nearly bug out of my head. He thinks I’m part of the waitstaff?

"Uh, actually," I snap back at him. "I’m a student here."

He eyes me for a moment. Anger flashes in his gaze. I can tell, for whatever reason, he’s not used to being spoken back to like that.

"An honest mistake," he shoots back at me, voice arched with irritation.

"You can go get your own champagne," I tell him, planting a hand on my hip. He doesn’t move. Tension hangs in the air between us.

"What did you say your name was?" he demands.

"Sophia," I reply. "Sophia Romano."

The corners of his lips quirk up into a smile.

"I’ll leave you to it, Sophia Romano."

There’s an edge of a threat to his voice, as though what he’s just told me is a warning, as much as it is anything else. I refuse to let it get to me. I’ve handled more than I ever thought I would be able to since I came to study here, and I’m not going to let some arrogant jerk undermine that.

"Professor Brown, it’s so good to meet you," I tell Hanna as I turn my attention to her. She seems vaguely amused by the exchange between that man and me, and I hope I haven’t served to make myself look even worse than I did when I arrived late to her lecture.

"You, too," she replies, and I begin to relax.

"So, I was doing some reading on your research into marital rights in the 1950s in Europe," I begin. "And I wanted to ask you about a couple of things..."

She leans in with interest as I speak, and I try to keep my focus. But, just behind me, I’m sure I can feel someone staring at me, their gaze burning into the back of my head, just a few feet away. And, somehow, I know it’s the guy I just told off.

I pray, to whoever might be listening, that I haven’t just managed to make myself an enemy. Because knowing the kind of people who attend this school? They’re the last people you’d want working against you.

Chapter Two—Blake

"Why are you so obsessed with her, man?"

I grin as I take a sip of my coffee—pitch-black, just the way I like it—and shrug at Damon.

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