His slow smirk patches up the bit of my self-consciousness that believed I was wrecking our non-friendship. He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ll continue attending classes with you. Can’t have you getting hurt again.”
With his agreement, breath whooshes out of me. Turns out, I was clinging to the possibility of it being a no.“Grazie.”
Lev turns for his room. “Start packing, and I’ll do the same. When I’m finished, I’ll come help.”
He disappears into his room, shutting the door, so I rush into mine, wondering at what point the insanity of all this will truly hit.
23
LEV
This room smells like peaches and vanilla. Likeher.
All packed up, I remain in my bedroom longer than intended, taking it all in while also avoiding Serafina for as long as possible. Sitting on the mattress she recently slept on isn’t my wisest decision.
Coming here is turning into the most unwise decision I’ve ever made.
Even everything I dreaded at the beginning, I’ll soon be missing. In Moscow, there won’t be any more late nights watching her damn shows, no more monitoring while she studies. A week ago, freedom would have been ideal, but now…
It’s concerning how much I’m already grieving the change, even if it’s for the best. For her safety and my mental well-being, we’ll be split up. The mansion will keep us apart. She’ll be studying and hanging around my sister and Vanessa when not in class, while I’ll be my regular basement dweller self.
I’llhaveto hide from her. There is no choice. Here, it’s different. Here, she’s a job. At home, her sweet fragrance will taint every corner. She’ll brand the mansion to be unlivable. She’ll destroy my safety net—destroyme. There will be noavoiding it, because she’ll be everywhere for an undetermined length of time. There will never be a chance for her perfume to fade when it’s constantly being refreshed.
Why did I agree to continue attending her classes? A new school means new patterns, places, and noises. After a week, I’d been getting used to this campus and her routine. I knew what to expect. A different school means re-learning everything. New routes, new classrooms, new everything. New people and noises I won’t account for right away.
It's all worth it if it makes her happy.
Throughout the week, I’ve yet to determine what makes Serafina have such a strange hold on me. But, apparently, not every mystery will get solved.
I can’t deny her when she gives methatlook, the one with the eyes I’ve known my entire life reflecting a much different kind of pain and hope. One that fucking destroys me. One that wraps me up in whatever bubble she’s constructed.
That, and because no other man will protect her the way she needs to be.
Last night was a grave mistake, and I’ll own up to that. I can berate myself by taking out anyone else who makes her cry. I’ll continue the job until she’s good to return and attend this place without protection. Then, my interest in this strange addiction—that’s precisely what’s she’s become; an unhealthy, curious fixation—will be sated.
I must. If Vanessa assigned another soldier to guard her, and she was harmed under their watch, there would be no salvaging their soul after I finished with them.
With a sigh, I exit the bedroom carrying my two duffle bags. There’s only one way this all ends, and that’s leaving this dorm. I toss my bags by the front door and gravitate towards her room, biting down a chuckle at the sight.
She’s standing on her bed, using the bed frame to reach higher and unhook the string lights she lined the window with. She nearly topples off twice, grunts, and does this little bouncy thing that in no way helps her. It only causes her hair to flounce, still damp from her shower.
“Need help?” I ask after a moment, before she brings bodily harm to herself.
She yelps, spinning and nearly falling over again. “Yes! How long were you watching this pathetic attempt?”
“Long enough to see you weren’t going to manage by yourself. However did you get them up in the first place?”
“Dragged the bed closer. But I’m too tired to be lugging furniture back and forth.”
So, for all her claims of being okay, she’s really not.
She goes to hop from the bed but lands unsteadily, tripping on air. She’s truly a danger to herself. I catch her, steadying her by her waist. Fingers skate along the patch of skin between her shirt and jeans before jerking away.
“Careful, before you land on your face. It’d be a shame to break something so pretty.”
We both realize what I said—what I’ve admitted—at the same time.
Of course, she’s pretty. Beauty is defined by society as having certain appealing qualities, and by a textbook definition, Serafina is it. It’s the shape of her face, the symmetry of her features, her unique colouring and bright eyes and perfect mouth and shade of hair.
