Page 11 of Ruthless Royalty

Nikolai gestures for me to follow him inside what I assume is our townhouse, and I’m not at all shocked at the obvious luxury inside.

“Welcome to your new home,” he says, his tone both comforting and patronizing. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I doubt that,” I mumble under my breath as I walk behind him.

Nikolai shows me to my room, and I can’t help but be impressed by the size and opulence; it’s like something out of amovie. The interior of the Suite is luxurious, with high ceilings, elegant furnishings, and that same air of old money that makes me feel even more out of place.

“The belongings you sent arrived yesterday and should be packed away,” he says with a stretch and a yawn. “Now, if you don’t mind, I am fucking exhausted and will see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Nikolai,” I say as he leaves and I sit on the edge of my new bed, trying to steady my racing heart. This is it. There’s no turning back now.

CHIARA

Black dress, black thigh-high boots and black peacoat.

Black is my go-to war color, and in this case, I need to put my best foot forward for my first day at Mafia University. Marina already gave my outfit a resounding YES when I sent her a picture this morning, so I’m feeling good!

Not like I wanna vomit AT ALL.

Nikolai is quiet as he sits next to me on the ride over, and I can’t bring myself to ask him questions. He’s wearing a black shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show off his collarbones and crowned skull tattoo. A crown pin is fastened to his lapel and he’s leaning with his elbow against the window; his stance relaxed but somehow still commanding.

His boots are polished, like the rest of his outfit, and there’s something about the way he carries himself that says he’s used to being in control.

I would give anything to have an ounce of his confidence right now.

I step out of the armored SUV, my heels crunching on thegravel driveway of Willow Bridge Academy. Before me, the large brownstone rises majestically, its towering structure covered with ivy creeping up the walls.

The manicured lawns stretch out like a lush, green carpet, meticulously trimmed and edged with vibrant flowerbeds. Behind us, a line of expensive cars glisten under the morning sun; showing off the wealth and power amassed by the families who control this place.

I spot Mihai, Marina, Connor and Cat walking over to us, the boys wearing the same smirk as they look at me. It only takes me a few seconds to see why: we’re all dressed in black as if it’s the Crown uniform or some shit.

Mihai has on a black turtleneck, sleek and fitted, paired with tailored trousers. It’s simple but sharp, making him look both sophisticated and like he could tear you apart with just a look.

Marina is wearing black dress as well, clinging to her curves perfectly as her curls kiss her tanned shoulders. She’s so effortlessly beautiful, I want to cry. While Cat is decked out in black trousers, a black corset and killer heels.

Connor, with a cigarette dangling from his fingers, is the most laid-back of the three guys, but there’s nothing casual about his black blazer.

It’s tailored to perfection, the fabric clinging to his frame, and underneath, he’s got a simple black tee. His pants are just as sharp as the others, and he’s got the same polished boots, completing the uniform look they seem to share.

All of them are wearing that pin; the one that separates them from everyone else.

“Welcome to Willow Bridge, darlin’,” Connor drawls, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Here you either bow down or make them kneel.”

“Stay out of trouble, Chiara,” Nikolai says before I can respond and he walks off with Con and Mihai, leaving me withMarina and Cat. Marina loops her arm through mine, her cheerful demeanor a stark contrast to the heaviness I feel in my chest.

“Come on, let’s get your schedule sorted.”

We walk toward the main building, the Mikhailov name already feeling like a burden. Inside the office I receive my schedule and the Crown pin—a small, silver insignia that marks me as one of the elite.

“The Crown pin,” Marina explains as she fixes it to the lapel of my peacoat. “Wear it proudly.”

Pride. Right. As if that’s all it takes to survive here.

Afterward, she guides me through the hallways, her commentary a welcome distraction from my nerves. We’re on our way to my locker, when her cell phone rings and she tells me to go ahead as it’s her father on the line.

I shrug and watch her walk away, feeling people staring at me already. It takes me a few minutes to find my locker, but I can’t even feel relieved because there’s someone leaning against it.

I stop dead in my tracks when I see him leaning against my locker like he owns the damn thing. He’s got that look—dark, brooding, and dangerous. The kind of guy who doesn’t have to say a word to command attention.

---