Now that it’s out of my system, I’ll go back to avoiding Kirill like the plague.
That’s what I’ll do.
That’s what I have to do.
“You got this, Stella.”
But I don’t got it. I don’t have shit.
Because when the bell rings, I realize that I’m nowhere close to understanding the material I was supposed to absorb in this lecture. If I want to pass my exams, I’m going to have to pull some serious all-nighters. I can’t afford to fail, not when I’m so close to getting everything I’ve ever wanted. My father was very clear on his demands. I need to graduate first before he inducts me into the syndicate.
No diploma. No induction.
And from what Marcello has told me, the news of my father’s plans to induct me in May is already causing a stir among the other families.
A woman in the Outfit?
Unheard of.
But my father has a way of persuading people to fall in line. Under his rule, the Outfit has never been more prosperous or respected. No boss in the Midwest wants to go against him—not when he keeps them rich, protected, and unbothered. Even if they talk shit behind my back, they’ll swallow their indignation and keep quiet when my induction day comes.
But all of that means nothing if I don’t get my head on straight and actually graduate.
I can’t spend my time fantasizing about Kirill… or how his hands feel on my body… or the way his smoky clove scent lingers on my skin afterward. He’s a distraction I need to curb.
For both our sakes.
“Stella! Hey, Stella!” a familiar voice calls out from behind me.
“Hey, Izzie! How are you?” I say, turning just in time to see Marcello’s crush walking towards me.
“I’m good. How about you?” she asks, with suspicious looking worry lines on her forehead. “After last night, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again. I mean, that guy? He was all sorts of scary.”
When I don’t offer a reply straight away, she studies my expression, as if searching for something.
Shit.
I forgot Izzie was in the car with me during Kirill’s full alpha-male meltdown.
“Oh, him? That was nothing. Boys will be boys and all that,” I reply and immediately want to stab myself in both eyes for spewing such patriarchal bullshit.
Boys will be boys?
Ew. Gross. Kill me.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Izzie asks, concern still scrunching her brows. “Your brother seemed upset that you and Frankie stayed behind at that club… especially in that part of town. Not only is it in a sketchy neighborhood, but I’ve heard not the best people frequent it.”
My spine snaps straight.
“TheObsidian was literally dubbed one of the ‘must-visit clubs’ in the paper last month. I’m not sure where you’re getting your information, but it’s wrong.”
Her eyes widen in alarm and then something shifts in her expression…something too quick to name.
“Sorry. My mistake. I must’ve confused it with somewhere else.” Her smile returns, brighter than necessary. “Hey, if you go there again, maybe you can take me to a show sometime.”
Take Marcello’s crush to Kirill’s strip club?
Yeah… that’s a hard no from me.
