Page 36 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

And then nothing.

When I came to, I was lying in my dorm room bed, the familiar scent of lavender laundry detergent mixed with something sterile, something wrong. A dull, relentless pain throbbed in my arm. Every movement sent a fresh wave of agony through me. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself into a sitting position, my fingers ghosting over the thick bandage wrapped around my arm.

On my nightstand, two pain pills and a glass of water waited. I ignored them. The pain was grounding, a cruel reminder that everything had really happened. My face ached, swollen and tender, and I could only see out of one eye.

But I couldn’t stay here. Not after the last twenty-four hours. I refused to sit around, waiting for Polina or Ivan to find me.

Summoning every last shred of strength, I packed what I could into two plastic storage totes my most valuable sketches, my laptop, anything I couldn’t bear to lose. Then I ordered an Uber. The moment it arrived, I enlisted the dorm attendant to help carry the totes to the car. I yanked a baseball cap low over my forehead, slipped on a pair of oversized sunglasses, and prayed no one would recognize me.

At a nearby shipping store, I had the driver haul the totes inside.

I was shipping the totes to my friend Gia in Milan. She attended college with me, but recently had to fly home for an emergency. I hated to bother her with my mess, but I had no one else I could turn to.

The bright fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. As the shipping agent typed in the shipping address, I fumbled for my phone with shaky hands and dialed Gia’s number.

She answered on the second ring. “Claire, you don’t have to check in every other day. My grandfather’s fine—”

“Gia,” I cut her off, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m shipping you some things. Keep them safe for a few weeks, please.”

Her tone shifted instantly. “Claire, what happened?” Concern bled through the line, laced with anger.

I swallowed hard. “I can’t talk about it right now. But I’m in trouble.”

I paid in cash, thanked the shipping clerk, and turned toward the door.

“I have to start over,” I whispered.

Gia’s voice softened. “Get to Miami. When you get there, call me. My family’s jet will take you anywhere you want to go.”

Tears burned my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. My breath hitched as a sob broke free. “Thank you,” I choked out.

“Whoever hurt you will answer to the Agrestas,” she said darkly.

I stiffened. Great. Now I’d dragged the Italian mafia into my mess. If I could just start over with a new identity, that would be enough.

So I walked away.

I changed my name. Finished my last year of college at NYU, keeping my head down, my past buried.

Every night, I cried myself to sleep, the weight of everything I’d lost pressing down on me like a vice. I lied to my father, telling him I’d accepted an internship right after graduation. He had wanted to see me walk across the stage at Berkeley. He’d been so proud of me. I couldn’t tell him that the boy he had welcomed into our home was a monster, a Bratva prince who had nearly destroyed me.

And to top it all off, Ivan had given me chlamydia.

I never wanted to have unprotected sex again. Hell, I never wanted to fall in love again. Especially not with some rich asshole who thought his money could buy me.

My fingers tightened around the drawer handle in my office.

“Claire, Claire, Claire?” I glanced up at Amadeo, pushing the horrific memory aside.

“Sorry, yes?”

His sharp gaze studied me. “Are you okay?”

I plastered on a fake smile. “Yes.”

“You’re not. And that’s okay,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I don’t like Polina. I won’t let that woman step foot in this building again.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I struggled to swallow it down. Tears burned at the edges of my eyes. “Please… don’t tell my benefactor about Polina. I don’t want them backing out of the arrangement.”

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