Ruthless Royalty, page 8
I force myself to ignore him, focusing instead on Marina and Cat; there’s no way I’m going to let him get under my skin like this.
“Let’s go outside,” Cat suggests, sensing my discomfort.
We make our way to the back, where a few people are gathered around a bonfire; the fresh air is a welcome relief.
“Chiara!” a familiar voice calls out. I turn and see Leo standing by the fire, looking pleasantly surprised to see me. His hair is hanging loose around his shoulders and he’s dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, but he looks effortlessly cool.
“Leo!” I say, smiling. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
He laughs, running a hand through his blond hair. “I could say the same about you. You look incredible, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I reply, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “This is Marina and Cat. Guys, this is Leo, the one I met in the art studio.”
“Nice to meet you,” Marina says, giving him a once-over. “Chiara’s been talking about you.”
“Has she now?” Leo says with a grin, raising an eyebrow.
I shoot Marina a look because that sounded so wrong, but she just grins and takes a sip of her drink. The little shit.
“Just mentioned you’re an artist,” I say, trying to play it cool.
Leo chuckles. “I’m flattered. What brings you to this madhouse?”
“I needed a break,” I admit. “Figured a party might help.”
“Well, you came to the right place,” he says, looking around. “Volkov parties are legendary, but just stay away from the punchbowl … trust me.”
He pulls a face and I can’t help but chuckle. We fall into an easy conversation, and I find myself relaxing for the first time all day.
Marina and Cat exchange looks before giving me space, moving off to mingle. Leo and I find a quieter spot to talk, and I notice how different he looks in the party setting. Still handsome, but more relaxed.
“Thank you again for the sketch,” I say later on as we stand around the bonfire. “I didn’t realize anyone could…see that side of me.”
Leo nudges my shoulder with his own, a playful grin on his face. “Anytime you need cheering up, you can always come to Studio 3. I would say you could call me, but I don’t have your number, so...”
I chuckle and raise my eyebrow. “Smooth way of asking me for my number, there,” I say and hold my hand out for his cellphone. When he hands it over, I input my number and call myself. “There. What’s your last name, by the way?”
When he doesn’t answer, I look up at him and notice the odd look on his face. “Leo?”
“Promise me you won’t freak out?”
“I’m afraid I can’t promise that,” I say, handing his cellphone back. “What is this about?”
Leo sighs. “My last name is Volkov, Chiara.”
My eyes widen and my mouth falls open slightly. This is his Suite. How could Marina and Cat not know that?
“You’re one of them?”
He winces at this and I’m about to walk away, when he grabs my arm and pulls me close. He shakes his head.
“I’m not,” he says softly, almost pleading. “My family went legit a long time ago. We’re not involved in any of the Bratva’s business, and trust me, that hasn’t exactly made me popular around here.”
“But you still came here,” I say, my voice softer now, less accusatory. “You still chose to be part of this world.”
Leo sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t choose this, Chiara. I didn’t have a choice. My family might be out of the game, but that doesn’t mean we’re free from it. My parents thought it would be safer for me to be here, surrounded by people who know the score, who won’t touch me because of who I am. And yeah, the art program here is the best. It’s what I live for. You get it, right?”
Leo hasn’t lied to me, but this new information leaves me feeling off balance. I’ve been so careful, so guarded since arriving at Willow Bridge, and now this — Leo Volkov, the guy I’ve been opening up to, the one who drew me that beautiful sketch, is part of a life I want no part of.
The thought makes me want to run, but something in his eyes stops me. When I look at Leo, I don’t see a threat. I see a friend; someone who understands what it’s like to be out of place, someone who’s here for reasons he can’t control —just like me.
“I get it,” I finally say, the words coming out slower than I intended. “You didn’t choose this either.”
He looks at me, relief flooding his features, and there’s a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart beat just a little faster. “Thank you,” he says, his voice soft and sincere.
I let out a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “So, you came here for the art, huh? That’s kind of romantic in a tortured-artist sort of way.”
He grins, that playful spark returning to his eyes. “I prefer to think of it as dedicated. But hey, if you want to call it romantic, I won’t stop you.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. “You know, you’re not as smooth as you think you are.”
“Who says I’m trying to be smooth?” he shoots back, stepping closer. His voice drops to a low, teasing tone, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. “Maybe I just like seeing you smile.”
My heart skips a beat, and I glance up at him, suddenly aware of just how close we are. There’s something in his eyes, something that makes the air between us feel charged, electric. I swallow hard; my mouth suddenly dry.
“Well, you’re doing a decent job of that,” I say, my voice a little breathless.
I don’t know if it’s the heat of the moment or the lingering tension from the day, but there’s a part of me that wants to close the distance between us, to see what it would feel like to kiss him.
“So, now that you know my last name,” Leo says, leaning in just a little closer, “does that mean I’m off the hook, or should I start worrying?”
I smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “Depends. Are you planning on keeping any more secrets from me?”
He laughs, a genuine sound that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. “No more secrets, I promise. Well, unless you count the surprise I’ve got planned for our next studio session.”
I arch an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. “Should I be worried?”
“Maybe,” he teases, his tone playful. “Or maybe you’ll just have to trust me.”
“Trust, Leo?” I tilt my head, giving him a mock-serious look. “That’s asking a lot from a girl who just found out you’ve got a pretty intimidating last name.”
He grins, and there’s a warmth in his expression that makes my chest flutter. “Fair point. How about I start by earning that trust with coffee? My treat.”
I chuckle, feeling the last of my apprehension melt away. “Coffee sounds good. I could use something to help me survive the rest of this week.”
“Great,” Leo says, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone. “And who knows? Maybe by the end of that coffee, I’ll have you convinced I’m not such a bad guy after all.”
I can’t help but smile at his confidence, the flirtation between us subtle but undeniable. “You’re really selling yourself, Volkov.”
He shrugs, his eyes never leaving mine. “I have to, considering the competition around here.”
The playful banter between us is easy, and for a moment, I forget about the chaos that’s been my life lately.
I forget about the Blood Oath, about Nikolai and Giovanni, and just focus on Leo, on how close he is, on how his presence makes the tension in my shoulders loosen.
His gaze drops to my lips for just a second, and I feel a flutter of anticipation in my chest. I take a small step closer, my hand brushing against his, and I see his eyes darken slightly, that playful grin fading as something more serious takes its place.
“Chiara,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with something that makes my pulse quicken. He’s so close now that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, and I find myself leaning in, too, drawn to him in a way that feels both thrilling and terrifying.
But just as our lips are about to meet, a sharp voice cuts through the moment like a cold blade.
“Well, isn’t this cozy.”
I jerk back, my heart slamming against my ribs as I turn to see Giovanni standing close to us, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk twisting his lips.
The easy warmth that had settled over me with Leo evaporates, replaced by the icy chill that always accompanies Giovanni.
Leo straightens, his expression hardening as he turns to face Giovanni.
“Basile,” he says, his tone laced with irritation. “What do you want?”
Giovanni’s smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with something dark and knowing.
“Just came to see what our little princess has been up to. Didn’t expect to find you two getting so ... friendly.”
I grit my teeth; anger and embarrassment flooding me in equal measure. “What the hell do you want, Giovanni?”
He cocks his head to the side, clearly enjoying the fact that he’s managed to ruin the moment.
“Just making sure you’re not getting too comfortable with the wrong people, Kitten. Wouldn’t want you to forget where your loyalties lie; especially after the Oath you took.”
I roll my eyes, but I can feel the tension ratchet up several notches. Leo steps forward, his expression hardening as he faces off with Giovanni.
“She doesn’t need you to babysit her,” Leo says, his voice cold. “And she certainly doesn’t need your permission to talk to me.”
Giovanni ignores him, his focus entirely on me. “You know, Chiara, I’m starting to think you have a thing for dangerous men. First me, now Volkov. What’s next? You planning on making friends with every criminal heir in this school?”
I narrow my eyes at him, trying to keep my voice steady. “Not everything is about you, Giovanni. You don’t get to dictate who I spend my time with.”
Giovanni’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think he’s going to take a swing at Leo. But instead, he just laughs, the sound low and dangerous.
“Maybe not, but I think you should know better than to trust a Volkov,” he says, his tone dripping with contempt, then he looks at Leo. “Or has she not learned that lesson yet?”
I stiffen at his words, the reminder of Leo’s last name hitting me like a bucket of cold water. Giovanni’s words are meant to wound, to stir up the doubts that I’ve been trying to ignore.
And damn it, it’s working.
“What the hell is your problem? You’re not my keeper, Giovanni. You don’t get to decide who I talk to or who I’m friends with.”
“I’m not trying to keep you from making friends, Kitten. I’m just reminding you that in this world, names matter. Bloodlines matter, and the Volkov family aren’t exactly who you want to get caught up in,” he leans in, his smirk turning into something more sinister. “Just ask Nikolai.”
My eyes widen, and the anger gives way to confusion. What does he mean by that? Before I can ask, Leo pulls me back toward him and glares at Giovanni.
“That’s enough, Basile. Chiara doesn’t need your warnings.”
Giovanni’s gaze shifts to Leo, and for a moment, the tension between them crackles in the air. But then he looks past Leo and sets his eyes on me again.
“You might not see it, but you don’t know what you’re getting caught up in, Chiara. Better to stick with the devil you know.”
With that, he turns and walks out, leaving the room feeling colder than when he entered. I’m left standing there, my heart still racing, my emotions a tangled mess.
Leo lets out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing as he turns back to me. “You okay?”
I nod, but the truth is, I’m not sure how I feel. Giovanni’s words have left a bitter taste in my mouth, and the moment Leo and I almost shared feels distant, overshadowed by what Giovanni has insinuated.
“Yeah,” I say, though the word feels hollow. “I’m fine.”
GIOVANNI
Ican’t take my eyes off her.
I watch Chiara from across the clearing, my eyes never leaving her. She’s still with Leo Volkov, talking and laughing like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
I don’t like the way he looks at her, like she’s some sort of goddess he’s trying to worship. It pisses me off more than I’d like to admit.
Out of everyone she could’ve chosen to spend her time with, she picks him? A king who gave up his crown, an outsider with no real place in our world?
It feels like a slap in the face, like she’s deliberately choosing the one person who doesn’t belong here.
I didn’t belong in this world either; I shouldn’t have been an heir, but it’s different. I’ve earned my place now, fought for it tooth and nail, and I sure as hell didn’t abandon it when things got tough.
I take a swig from the bottle in my hand, the burn of the whiskey doing little to ease the knot of frustration tightening in my chest. Why the fuck does it bother me so much?
Seeing her with him, seeing her gravitate toward the one person who’s chosen to step away from everything we stand for, makes my blood boil.
Leo’s acting like he doesn’t know the danger he’s in, like he’s forgotten that his family name doesn’t protect him anymore. But maybe he does know. Maybe he’s just fucking with me because he knows I can’t do shit about it; not here, not now.
Not within the walls that keep us safe.
I grit my teeth, trying to keep my anger in check, but it’s not easy. Every time she laughs at something he says, it feels like a knife twisting deeper. What the hell does she see in him? He’s weak. He doesn’t belong here. He gave up his right to be one of us, to be a Crown, and now he thinks he can waltz back in and take what he wants?
Over my dead body.
I’m about two seconds away from marching over there and ripping him away from her, when Connor’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
“Save your sulkin’ for later, G,” Connor says, his voice dripping with amusement. “We’ve got more important shite to deal with than whatever’s goin’ on in that fucked-up head o’ yours.”
I snarl at the insinuation, but I force myself to keep it together.
“I’m not sulking,” I snap, trying to shake off the red haze of fury. “Just watching the entertainment.”
Connor raises an eyebrow, glancing over at Chiara and Leo before his gaze flicks back to me. “Right. Entertainment.”
He doesn’t press further, but I can see the curiosity in his eyes. He’s always been good at reading people, which is fucking annoying sometimes.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I grumble and put down the bottle of whiskey while taking my mask from him and sliding it on.
Connor claps me on the back, clearly satisfied that he’s managed to distract me. “That’s the spirit,” he says with a grin and puts on his Jester mask. “It’s time for the Night Hunt, anyway.”
I’ve got to keep my head in the game, especially with Legacy Week in full swing. There’s no room for distractions, not even for her.
Connor steps in front of the bonfire, his voice booming out with the confidence of someone who lives for this shit. Mihai and Nikolai hang back, their masks in place.
“Alright, listen up, you fuckin’ heathens! It’s time for the Night Hunt.” There’s a murmur in the crowd as he continues.
“Those who took the Blood Oath, head to the SUVs in front of the Suite and you’ll be taken to the Willow Bridge forest,” Connor says, and I can practically hear the grin in his voice. The fucker’s always loved this part. “You all know the rules — or if you don’t remember, well, I ain’t gonna explain ‘em again.”
The group disperses, heading toward the door to take them to where the real challenge awaits. I watch as Chiara hesitates for a moment, her eyes flicking to Leo before she turns and follows the others.
“G,” Connor says, coming up beside me as we watch the participants disappear. He slides his mask up so it rests on the top of his head. “You’re too fuckin’ tense, man. It’s not like you to get this worked up.”
I grunt, not really in the mood to discuss my fucked-up headspace with Connor. “Just want to make sure everything goes according to plan,” I say, sliding the mask off again. “Lets fucking go.”
GIOVANNI
The initiates exchange nervous glances when we pull up, clearly trying to size each other up. Chiara is off to the side, without her high heels, and she’s on edge. Good. She should be.
Connor walks towards them, a paintball gun slung casually over his shoulder.
“Here’s the deal. We’re huntin’ you,” he says, his voice taking on that playful, twisted edge that tells me he’s already enjoying this more than he should. “You’ve got two hours to find your shit in the forest. We’ve hidden somethin’ important to each of you—something you’ll need to find if you want to finish Legacy Week.”
I step up next to Connor, adjusting the holster strapped across my chest. The weight of it feels good, familiar. But the paintball guns aren’t just for show. It’s psychological warfare. Break them down with a few good shots, see how they crack under pressure. If they’re smart, they’ll make it out. If not? Well, that’s on them.
I look out over the initiates, my eyes locking onto them one by one, watching as their fear starts to settle in. This isn’t some simple game. It’s a test, a brutal one. We’re here to see who can keep their head while being hunted, who can stay calm when everything around them is falling apart.
“We’re giving you a ten-minute head start,” I say, my voice cold, hard. “After that, we’re coming for you. If we catch you before you find what we took, you’re out. Simple as that.”
A few of the initiates’ faces pale, and I catch the faintest flicker of fear in their eyes. Good.
