How I find myself watching the way he moves through a room, or how his cologne smells like cedar and something uniquely him that makes me want to lean closer when he’s near.
God, I’m pathetic. Crushing on my dad’s ally like some cliché mafia princess.
“What do you think, Bianca?”
Professor Chen’s voice snaps me back to reality.
Shit. I have no idea what she just asked.
“I think,” I say slowly, buying myself time, “that any strategy that doesn’t account for long-term stability is ultimately self-defeating. You can win every battle and still lose the war.”
It’s generic enough to apply to whatever they were discussing and true enough that Professor Chen nods approvingly.
Lucas looks annoyed that I managed to sound intelligent without actually participating in their debate.
Ha. Fucker. Take that.
My phone buzzes again.
This time it’s a text from an unknown number:Car waiting outside. -AR
Alessandro never contacts me directly. He’s Dad’s ally, not my personal driver. Something must be wrong.
I start packing my bag as Professor Chen wraps up the discussion, my mind already shifting from corporate strategy to whatever’s waiting for me outside.
The other students file out, chattering about weekend plans and upcoming assignments.
Normal college problems that feel increasingly foreign to me.
“Leaving us early, princess?”
I glance up to find Lucas smirking at me, clearly still bitter about our earlier exchange.
The nickname makes my skin crawl—not because it’s inaccurate, but because of how he says it.
Like I’m some spoiled brat who’s never had to work for anything.
“Some of us have actual responsibilities,” I reply, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Enjoy your trust fund meeting or whatever it is you do when you’re not embarrassing yourself in class.”
His face goes red, but I’m already walking away.
I don’t have time for his wounded ego—not when Alessandro is waiting.
The October air hits me as I step outside Hamilton Hall, cool enough to make me pull my leather jacket tighter around my shoulders.
Students stream past me, heading to afternoon classes or back to their dorms, and for a moment I feel that familiar disconnect—like I’m watching their normal college lives from behind glass.
Then I see the black BMW parked at the curb, and everything else fades away.
Alessandro is leaning against the driver’s side, and goddamn, he looks good.
He’s wearing a charcoal suit tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders and lean frame.
His dark hair is slightly tousled by the wind, those thick waves that I’ve caught myself wanting to run my fingers through more times than I care to admit.
When he spots me, he straightens up, and I get the full effect of those hazel eyes that seem to see everything.
He’s beautiful in a way that makes me want to swoon, if I were the swooning type.
