“Oh, I am fucking that.” Mateo’s such an asshole, though he does well with the women on campus.
“Don’t you mean her?” I said.
“No,that,”he grins, “I just need her pussy. The rest of her is hot, though.”
“You’re a charmer,” I said dryly, walking away from him. I don’t want his asshole stink to rub off on me. I’m meeting with Professor Fukumoto, so I pass Dean Christie’s office as she’s entering it, shadowed by some big bastard who stares at me suspiciously.
“Tatiana Aslanova, a pleasure to meet you!” Dean Christie’s warm greeting is standard for new students. Until you get to know her and she scares the everloving fuck out of you. I don’t see her table saw in her office but I pick up the pace until I’m past her door anyway.
“Ah, Mr. Toscano, come in.” Professor Fukumoto is one of my favorite instructors, and he looks up with a smile as I knock on his open door.
“Professor, how are you, sir?” Seating myself when he nods at the chair in front of his huge, cluttered desk, I rack my brain for anything wildly against the rules I might have done lately. He doesn’t seem angry, though.
“Quite well, thank you.” He settles back against his chair and examines me. I’m less bitter and sullen than I was when I arrived here two years ago. It didn’t take long to realize being the biggest asshole on campus required a lot more effort than I was willing to put in. I’m still bitter as fuck, though. Mainly at my brothers.
Fukumoto is my “academic advisor,” which is hilarious when you learn he was one of the senior men in a powerful Yakuza syndicate. No one’s certain why he would step down from that position to work here at the Academy. Or they know better than to talk about it.
“I called you in because we will be meeting with Dean Christie in a moment,” he says, watching me closely.
Raising one brow, I wonder if this is an interrogation technique designed to make me panic and spill information about some infraction. There have been plenty, and I’ll never confess to a single one. “Oh?”
His smooth skin breaks out into a thousand tiny wrinkles as he chuckles. “Yes. I wanted to speak with you first. How do you feel you’ve been performing in your major?”
Frowning, I try to figure out where this is going. “I’ve learned a great deal. I feel like I’ve honed my craft.”
“Agreed,” he nodded, “your work is excellent, both academically and in practical application. However, over the last two years, the Dean and I have been watching you grow, and we are questioning your original placement.”
It feels like he just punched me in the throat. Everyone in my family who came through the Ares Academy was assigned the Assassinations major. As the eldest brother, Dante would have been placed in the Leaders major, but he was denied admission. He was furious when Gio and Dario received their admissions letters.
“This… Professor, this is what I will do in life. This is my family’s primary source of power and wealth. You trained both of my brothers in this major,” I said, forcing myself to sound calm.
He inclined his head. “It was a primary source. Giovanni’s been moving the Toscano empire into more mainstream endeavors. You might find yourself without a purpose in your family’s organization.”
My calm, cool exterior is wilting, and I can feel beads of sweat at my hairline. “The only reason you’d be telling me this is if you have an alternative,” I say. “Have you been in communication with my brothers?”
Fukumoto’s eyes are nearly black; endlessly dark pools that drown a multitude of sins and secrets. There is a soft buzz from his laptop, after glancing at it, he rises to his feet. “The Dean is ready for us.”
We pass the blonde leaving the Dean’s office, her mouth is tight like she’s trying to hold back a torrent of screams or tears, and she hurries past me without looking up. The guy behind her looks at me though, like he wants to tear my spine out through my neck. Fuck this asshole and his posturing. I smile menacingly and lean in just slightly as he passes by.
“There we are, right on time!” Dean Christie says cheerfully, “Come right in, gentlemen.”
She’s lounging behind a desk so huge that it could swallow her and three more like her. Having been called into her office before, I know the two seats in front of the desk are uncomfortable enough that they could be classified as instruments of torture.
“Mr. Toscano, have a seat. Professor? I just picked up some excellent Scotch if you’d care for a drink. The chair next to the bar is quite comfortable,” she said sweetly.
Taking my seat as ordered, I try not to shift around as a spring digs into my left ass cheek.
“In the last two years, you’ve settled in well here at the Academy,” the Dean says, looking over something on her computer monitor. “Excellent scores, particularly in poisons and knife work. You’re good with other students, you take the lead naturally in group projects.”
They’re both looking at me, so I offer up a polite thank you.
“Here’s where I feel things have shifted,” she says, “while you’re certainly on track to graduate in the Assassins major, Professor Fukumoto and I feel that your talents would be better used in a different major.”
Frowning, I try to make sense of her words. “I have never heard of a student switching majors once you have assigned them, Dean Christie.”
“Itishighly irregular,” she agrees, “but it has been done before when we find that a student begins to show an aptitude for something else. While we areneverwrong in our initial placements, room must be made for change and growth.”
Professor Fukumoto hastily takes a drink to hide a slight smile when the Dean emphasizes ‘never.’
