Alessandro, page 4
I had. I totally sucked.
What it came down to was attending the same school with the guy whose mother was killed by my father. I couldn’t believe it when my father told me I was going to Rochester with the Brambilla heir and that I would be safe. Freshman year was a nightmare and I expected to be stabbed in the back any moment. Sophomore year was easier and junior year I actually calmed down.
Why couldn’t it stay as it had been? This was senior year, and then we were done. It was apparent I would not escape the retribution Alessandro owed me. Maria had the same problem with Matteo, though the reasons were completely different. We both knew our time was coming and only hoped we survived the retaliation.
I marched into the bathroom, vomited, and went to bed with Maria’s pathetic eyes following me. I needed a game plan.
Our weekend was a blur of preparation for the coming year. We unpacked our trunks and turned our dorm into this year’s home. Maria had a flair for style that came through in her clothing designs. I would pay more than some people make in a year to buy one of her creations in a few years. She was headed to the top.
We made dinner together Sunday evening but I couldn’t eat.
“It won’t be that bad,” Maria promised.
I did not have a solid plan and my anxiety was through the roof.
“No, it will be worse, I feel it.”
****
“Dio santo!” I blasphemed with shaking fingers.
I hated the first day of a new school year and this was the worst by far.
“You ready?” Maria called from the other side of the door.
My shirts and skirts were dry-cleaned and appeared like magic weekly. The magic didn’t extend to Maria until I put my foot down. Now we spent zero time on school laundry which gave us more time to do the things we enjoyed.
My white collared shirt was clean and crisp and the pleats of the skirt firmly pressed. It was the same old me. I wore a locket my mother gave me that belonged to my grandmother, but it was my only jewelry. Senior year we were allowed fingernail polish other than neutral or pink. Maria had painted our nails a deep blood red which announced our senior status. I admired her handiwork before pushing through the door.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
I did as commanded. No toilet paper stuck to my shoes or skirt. Everything was as plain and boring as always.
“You’ll do,” she said and followed with her own slow spin.
She looked good in the god-awful clothes and used a silk neck scarf to add flair. It was totally against the rules but as a senior, she might get away with it.
I felt like an imposter. I was more comfortable in pajama pants and a loose tee. The uniform accented nothing and even the required length didn’t show off my best feature—my legs. Our skirts were measured. I would be okay with it if they measured the guy’s dicks and publicly gave the details. The girls were reprimanded for uniform infractions while the boys rarely were.
It was the way of our world and the school was here to provide us with the perfect mob education. I was surprised female students didn’t have classes on how to deal with cheating spouses. I guess it would be a quick course after we were told to look the other way. Somedays I hated this life more than others.
“Let’s walk,” said Maria.
That was her cue for us to leave. We always walked because cars were not allowed on campus. Apparently long before our time, there was a fatality rollover involving several students and two died. Cars on campus were off-limits since. The school offered private vehicles and drivers if we needed to go into town. Like my dry-cleaned clothes, the private cars were provided for the baby Mafia elite.
Maria and I lifted our satchels, shouldered them, and left our suite. Our start time was an hour later than the underclassmen, and it was the only good thing about today. Seniors poured out of their rooms and mingled with us by the time we walked outside.
The chattering excitement and guys goofing off almost had me smiling. I would get through today and that was all that mattered. I would give myself the same lecture tomorrow and would continue doing it until a plan formulated and I could breathe again.
The grounds of Rochester were beautiful with the old architecture, acres of green grass along with sweeping willow, fir, and spruce trees. It smelled clean, unlike the city air in New Jersey that I was accustomed to. Yep, I was a Jersey girl without the thick accent or overbearing personality, unless I wanted to play the part. Drop me on any Jersey street and I could blend in. It was my special gift.
I laughed under my breath. Our black and white unies blended with the other students’ which I guessed was the point. Our station in life came through in more subtle ways. Like the dry cleaning and private cars. The special favors came from our family money and power. In my opinion, the uniforms were ridiculous and did not achieve their intended purpose. We all knew who was who. No matching clothing would change it.
I checked my schedule again as I approached the hall. My class lineup was decent and I liked the instructors. Most of all, the schedule guaranteed I would never be in the same classroom with Brambilla. I still had to watch my back but at least I wasn’t a complete wreck every class.
The tall mountainous building in front of us had stood for decades and was once an abbey church and then renovated into a private college before it was purchased by the families generations ago and became Rochester. The home for misfit Mafia teens.
The underclass coffee shop I loved and the shops in the small town near the school were also run by the families. We were safe here. No bodyguards followed us around. For the girls like me, it would be the last time in our lives we had that luxury.
My mother’s team had been with her since I was born. Even my nanny was trained to kill if it was needed to keep my mom and me safe. New team members entered when others retired or in bad cases, sacrificed themselves for me and my mother. That happened when I was five. It was the last time I became close to a bodyguard.
Cannain was shot outside a hair salon while my mother and I had a fancy hair day as she liked to call it. A bullet passed through the shop window and drew my attention before all hell broke loose. I saw Cannain take a hit and go down. It was hard for a child my age to understand because he was my friend and always had a piece of candy in his pocket to calm me when I would otherwise throw a tantrum.
Being near me was not safe and it always stayed in the back of my mind. Why should people die for me? Yep, my soft heart. I had no place in this world.
The freshly cut grass and smell of an early autumn helped soothe my first day of school nerves. I squared my shoulders and entered the double doors held by staff. They smiled eagerly. As seniors, we were the hallowed ground of the academy. Our last year made us kings and queens even to the staff. We would hold the school reins within a decade and they knew it.
Maria gave me a hug at our lockers, which were side by side, and practically skipped to her first class. She loved school. I think she even enjoyed the time away from me. We had few classes together by design. Sometimes, we had to have our own back and class time was one of those. Maria would not stay in my world after graduation. We would remain friends and talk on the phone from time to time, but it would never be the same.
Dread filled me as lockers slammed and students laughed. I was safe in my classrooms so I squared my shoulders and gave myself an internal pep talk.
“I was the Rossi and school was my bitch.”
It didn’t help. I had to bring Lulu to the forefront. She was a tough cookie with a cold heart and my favorite for the Rossi bitch role. Usually, I could easily slip into her persona. I’d watched myself do it in the mirror many times and pulled on the memory. Subtle changes washed over my expression as Lulu came out. Her entire character swelled inside me until I was her.
With my Rossi bitch on solid ground, I glanced at my schedule again. English for first period wasn’t my pick. I needed to be a bit more awake for nouns and pronouns, but I hadn’t changed it. Each small shift in our schedules had a ripple effect and I trusted those in power to know where I needed to be when.
I trudged to class in my black ballet flats that cost more than three pairs of Maria’s four-inch heeled boots. I made it through English, PE, and Business Finance. The former class decided to get real this year and our instructor openly talked about great businesses to launder money.
The morning flew by and went smoothly until I walked into Home Economics fourth period. Yes, Home-Ec, our outdated wife class. The teacher checked her list and said I wasn’t registered. I showed her my schedule, but she never blinked.
I went to the office to see what was up, knowing I would be late for whatever class I was assigned to. The winner was Civics which had been switched so I had Home-Ec sixth period. Maria, who always had the gossip, warned me Civics would be rough this year. I would handle it even if the thought behind the class gave me the creeps.
I didn’t bother running because the bell rang when I entered the office and now I was ten minutes late. I’d had Mr. Caleb sophomore year and he would be okay with my being late once I explained.
He was already lecturing when I walked in. Our classrooms were standard, nothing fancy. Heads looked up when I entered. The whispers quickly turned defining which seemed off.
“Miss Rossi, there’s one seat available at the back right.” He pointed to the desk’s location.
Mr. Caleb was not unattractive. He just didn’t stand out and I would normally feel bad for thinking something like that but there was no denying he was badass. He also blended into his surroundings easily, even in class. He looked like an ordinary teacher and it didn’t matter. We all knew he was dangerous.
Mr. Caleb wore the Rochester teacher approved clothing which was a suit and tie. The female teachers had knee-length granny skirts or dresses. The colors weren’t black and white but they were always drab earth tones. Only Miss Bianchi, the Home-Ec teacher, bucked the system with some killer heels from time to time. Mr. Caleb did not buck the system. He was someone you did not mess with. Sometimes, with some people, it was unwritten and still everyone knew. I called it the killer vibe.
The students dubbed Civics, Killer 101, years before I came to Rochester. From Maria’s inside info, I would find out over the next few months why Mr. Caleb taught this class. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
I took my first step toward the back of the room, knowing I would be stuck there for the remainder of the semester. I usually claimed a seat in the front row. Damn whoever screwed up my schedule. My next step faltered.
Alessandro, with his cocky sneer, sat behind the empty seat.
He casually stuck his foot out and nudged the desk so it tipped slightly. Students snickered softly and Mr. Caleb went back to his lecture.
I couldn’t move.
No way. I wouldn’t do it.
“Miss Rossi, is there a problem?” Mr. Caleb’s voice had a sharper edge this time.
“No, sir,” I said and walked the green mile to the desk.
I sat down in front of Alessandro Brambilla and stared straight ahead. My entire body quivered. I expected a knife in the back but received a tug on my hair in its place. I ignored him. The tug was harder the next time and the girl in the desk beside me, Stephie, giggled.
Stephie had never bothered me and she had her own small crew of girls that had stopped some bullying of a freshman. I didn’t know her but appreciated that she’d defended someone younger. For a recep, she had a good reputation. I didn’t want to make enemies of her, but Lulu, who had taken a back seat at the sight of Brambilla, slammed into the forefront. Poor Stephie was dealing with pure Rossi bitch. She realized it and turned away quickly. She became very interested in Mr. Caleb.
Another jerk, this one harder, caused me to turn. I gave him Lulu’s ice princess eyes.
“When are we going to fuck?” he whispered, completely ignoring my killer glare.
“Never, vaffanculo,” I said, adding the “fuck off” in Italian because I was far past agitated.
I hated using that word and now had to admit it in confession. I internally groaned at all the Hail Marys I would receive. Even saying it in Italian would land me in trouble and I’d said it in English Friday night so that trouble was multiplied.
My clenched teeth would leave me with a headache. The ass. To make it worse, he wore the same damn cologne that smelled so good. Even with my quick turn, I noticed the way he filled out his uniform. God, even the tie was sexy on him. Yes, I’d noticed it before. It just hadn’t been a close-up view. Nor had seeing him ever left my skin clammy but that was exactly what happened. Nerves. I had to suck this up and get through this nightmare.
“Wanna bet, Rossi?” he said into my hair.
It was like a lightbulb went off in my head. The reason I was sitting in this chair became crystal clear. Alessandro Brambilla had set me up.
Chapter Seven
Alessandro
My plan went perfectly and Gia Rossi was mine for the taking. I wasn’t sure how to go about this now that she was where I wanted her but I would figure it out. Did she like assholes? It was the easiest to pull off because I was an asshole. Or did she want a wine me, dine me, fuck me man? I could do that too.
The plan wasn’t only to take miss high and mighty’s virginity; it was to make her fall hard. Once she declared her undying love—yeah, gag me—I would give her my gift and walk away. She would never forget me, of that I was sure.
Mr. Caleb droned on. Yes, getting rid of a body wasn’t easy but I already knew that shit. I was more interested in the wicked flash of Gia’s eyes. I started tapping my pencil like a juvenile dick.
Tap, tap, tap. Pause. Tap, tap, tap.
She made it through five cycles before I received the wicked flash.
“I’m going to come on your tits,” I told her.
“You’re disgusting.”
“It will be, I promise.” My eyes went intense. “I keep my promises.”
Manache, my dick grew hard. I wanted to do very nasty things to Gia Rossi. I’d thought about it for three years, beginning the day I first laid eyes on her. Before that, I just wanted her dead. My gift to her was saving her for last. Fucking her up was my senior project.
Everything about her set me on edge and affected my dick. Her long legs needed to be wrapped around my hips or supporting her on her knees. Her large dark eyes would hold passion and so much need, she would be screaming. Her tits would drip cum and I would play in it.
Yeah, Gia Rossi brought out my dark side and she would see it all before this year was through.
After our exchange, it didn’t matter what I did; she wasn’t biting.
I pulled the back of her skirt like a five-year-old after class when she got up to leave.
“Don’t be late tomorrow. My dick enjoys having you around.”
She didn’t look at me and kept her head high when she walked toward the door. Mr. Caleb stopped her and whispered something. She gave a short shake of her head and walked out. I’d be interested to know what he said.
“You’re an asshole,” Andre, a member of my crew, snorted when he approached my desk.
He had this class too. I’d kicked him out of the seat in front of me and sent him across the room to another desk.
“So are you,” I said because it was a crew requirement.
“Yep.”
See? No argument. We headed to lunch. The food here wasn’t bad and we could even order à la carte or preorder something special if we did it by eight the night before. Food was the one thing that did not change from freshman year. They fed all of us well.
Miss Rossi was not in the cafeteria and I hadn’t expected her to be. We grabbed from the à la carte line and gathered at our table. There were eight of us total. Sitting in my zone meant you were important to me. It was an honor Miss Rossi would never have.
We bullshitted and laughed about our first classes, acting badass and like the idiots we were. I was talking when the eyes at the table went behind me. I had the instincts of a cat but wasn’t fast enough to avoid the upside-down tray aimed for my head, instead catching my shoulder, the hot food biting into my shirt and flesh. My chair flew back and I came up ready to kill.
My nose nearly hit Gia’s.
“Change my fucking class back,” she demanded.
Her teeth were clenched and her hands were fisted at her sides. Breathing as she was made her breasts swell and my mouth water. Holy fuck the bitch was pissed. I hadn’t expected this from her. I wasn’t dumb. I knew she put on an act. I knew it because I’d watched her socialize with her BFF, Maria, and then watched how she acted with others. Gia Rossi hid a lot.
She may have avoided me for three years but I hadn’t followed that rule. I knew everything about her. It was part of my attack. I would never force myself on Rossi. No, that wasn’t my style. I would make her beg for it.
She wasn’t expecting my move. I took one step in her direction, snagged her arm, and jerked her in. My mouth slammed down on hers for the entire cafeteria to see. Her teeth bit my lip and I didn’t stop. The taste of blood filled my mouth and I knew it filled hers too.
I let her go. The noise in the room had died down, but it came crashing back.
“Get a room,” someone yelled.
I turned and walked away, leaving Gia with a stunned expression. Once my dick did its thing, she would have a similar reaction.
I hustled to my dorm to shower and change and whistled the entire way. Students cast side-eye looks at my food-covered clothing and I didn’t give a shit. I’d be late for PE and couldn’t care less.
Gia Rossi was turning into a better game than I expected.
She was also a lot sexier up close. Funny what you don’t notice when you hate someone. Freshman year, she hadn’t grown into the sex kitten she was now. Her features had appeared too big for her face or something, and now it all came together and almost punched me in the gut. As my last conquest at this fucking school, Gia was worth the wait.
