Page 4 of Ruthless Mafia Heir

"I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. One way or another."

Damon rolls his eyes at me. It’s far from the first time he’s seen me obsess over something like this, but it might be the first he’s seen me pour such energy and attention into a woman. Well, beyond the first night that I met her, at least.

"I don’t get it," he protests. "She was rude to you one night at a university event. Why are you so focused on her?"

"Because people aren’t rude to me."

People in Gregora University know who I am. Which can be a little tiresome, sometimes, given my family’s reputation—though hardly surprising. People around here know what we’re capable of, the Devereaux, and how much influence we have over the university. With a flick of my wrist, I can get anyone removed if they so much as look at me the wrong way. Sometimes, it’s tempting to indulge that, though I know better than to abuse my power.

"So just get her kicked out," Damon replies with a shrug. "Then you won’t have to worry about running into her again."

I grin.

"I’m not worried about that. I’m looking forward to it."

"You make no sense to me sometimes, Blake," he sighs as he slumps back on the loveseat next to the window in my dorm room. I can’t blame him for being baffled. Though Damon and I have been friends for years, he is, at the end of the day, not part of the same world I’m a part of. He understands some part of it but not the experience of actually living, day in and day out, inside of it.

"You got a crush on her or something?" he presses.

I don’t reply. There’s something to that, I suppose. She is beautiful, no doubt about that, with her shoulder-length red hair, her bright, blazing green eyes, and those sharp cheekbones. The smatter of freckles across her nose softens her slightly, a glimpse of the girl underneath her defiance. But what intrigues me more than anything is that she seems to have no idea who I am.

And I intend to change that.

"I would have had her by now if it was just about attraction," I chuckle. "I want to know what’s going on under the surface. Why she thought it was alright to talk to me like that."

"Just admit your ego was bruised and get over it," Damon jokes as he rises to his feet. "I’m going to get a coffee. You want to come with me?"

I peer down at my cup. I’m fine with this one. The French press I use to make it, a part of my morning ritual, comes directly from Paris and produces the most deliciously smooth coffee. But I know that Sophia works at a coffee shop on campus, and I’d like to run into her again—this time with her on the back foot instead of me.

"Sure," I reply, casting my cup aside and grabbing my jacket. I drape it over my shoulders to ward off the bite of the fall cold. We head out onto campus, which is bustling with students. I notice a few of them shooting looks in my direction, most of them ducking away before they can catch my eyes. They know better than to put themselves in my line of sight without a good reason.

I steer Damon toward the coffee shop I know Sophia works at. I haven’t got her shift schedule yet, but asking around campus and using my influence to dig up some information on her has at least allowed me to figure out where she works. Turns out to be multiple places—this coffee shop on campus and a store just outside of the university. Seems like she’s doing her best to bring in as much money as she can, which makes sense since she’s on a scholarship, studying history. Which is why she was at the event with Hanna Brown. I’m the one who called in the favors to get her to Gregora University in the first place, though I doubt Sophia cares about that.

We reach the coffee shop, the Blackened Bean, and I lead us inside. And there, on the other side of the counter, is the very woman I haven’t been able to get out of my mind since I first met her a couple of days ago.

Sophia.

She’s busy with a customer when I walk in, smiling politely as some guy chats to her across the counter. She laughs tightly at whatever he’s saying and then guides him to pay, clearly done with their interaction. Her red hair is pulled back into a bun at the back of her head, and her burgundy uniform is a far cry from the sleek dress I saw her in the other night.

I approach the counter, and once the student has paid, she turns her attention to Damon and me. As soon as she locks eyes with me, I know she remembers who I am.

"Oh!" she blurts out. "Uh, can I… can I help you?"

"I’d like a coffee. Black. And a biscotti."

I speak quickly, calmly, and I can tell it throws her. This is different from when we first met, when I made the mistake of thinking she was a waitress out of the corner of my eye. No, now she really is serving me, and she seems distinctly aware of that fact.

Damon orders and heads to grab us a table while I wait by the counter for her to make our order for us. I notice her hands are a little shaky as she attends to her duties. Her fingers, long and delicate, clatter the cups into the saucers as she does her best to avoid eye contact.

When she finishes making our order, she lays it out on a tray for us and pushes it toward me.

"Are you paying?" she asks, and I nod, holding out my card. She hands me the machine, and I tap the button to include a generous tip. I notice her eyes widening slightly when she sees how much I’m giving, but she doesn’t say anything. I suppose, working here, she must be used to seeing people throwing their money around. God only knows how many students there are who seem to be on a campaign to prove how wealthy their families are.

"Thank you," she mumbles, and she locks eyes with me for a brief moment. In that second, I can feel something burning in the air between us—something intense, demanding. I want nothing more than to lean across the counter, grab the back of her head, and plant my lips against hers. There’s something in her eyes that tells me she might not be exactly averse to that...

But I’m not done playing this game with her, not yet. No, she disrespected me—in public, no less—and I have to make sure she and everyone else knows she’s not going to get away with it.

I take the coffees and head over to join Damon at his seat. He peers at Sophia behind the counter and shrugs.

---