It’s not that I hate my new position of power. After all, I’ve craved it my whole life. My problem stems from conforming to the people I’ve despised my whole life. It’s putting me through a fucking identity crisis, trying to decide whether I want to become one of them, or keep fighting them off.
Groaning, I step away from the balcony and regard the scene before me. Two girls are spread over Marco’s lap while my other housemates are scattered around the room that’s filled with smoke, beautiful women by their side. Why the fuck did Bruno send me here? The question keeps replaying in my mind, and yet I’m no closer to the answer.
I think of Adrianna then, the girl who lied to Bruno about me knocking her up. I should’ve known the bitch was a little liar. I always fucked her with a condom. I now think she only did all this, so I’d be sent to this place and forced to spend more time with her. But Adrianna doesn’t interest me. Sure, she’s a gorgeous mafia heiress, and Bruno would no doubt love to see my ring on her finger. But I’m not the least bit interested in her. Even Miss Ricci is more interesting, though my affair with her has its own ulterior motive.
Leonardo.
The name on everyone’s lips, dying from gossip to a whisper when I entered the school. I’m the new king now. There’s no room for the memory of Leonardo under my rule.
And yet the boy’s disappearance, which has been ruled as a death, is making me ponder everyone’s intentions. Something tells me Miss Ricci isn’t the only one who knows more than she lets on. I think the students are just as guilty of hiding their dirty little secrets as she is.
“Hey, Julian, time to fucking go,” Marco yells at me from inside.
Nodding, I grab my school blazer from the chair and follow my friends out of the house and through the campus to a fraternity house where the party is being held.
The lawn of the house is full of haphazardly parked, expensive cars. The students have spilled out to the front yard and I’m guessing to the back as well. My group walks right in, and I smirk at girls who trail their fingers down my blazer.
But everything changes the moment we walk inside the house, because that’s when I see her.
Francesca Esposito. I would recognize that insolent little bitch anywhere after seeing her in plenty of my revenge fantasies over the years. But none of them match reality. My grin is wide as fuck as I approach her, leaning against the wall and quietly watching her struggle.
The little mafia princess I had a crush on is no longer. Francesca has been humiliated beyond belief. Not just because of her family’s deceit, but also because she’s currently duct-taped to the wall.
There’s tape in other places, too.
I admire the thick piece of it holding her arms above her head at the wrists. She closes her eyes firmly, refusing to so much as look at me as I slowly trace my fingers over the milky porcelain skin of her arms. There’s a freckle here and there. It makes me want to trace them with my tongue.
I move to the next piece of tape. There’s just one across her pretty mouth. She breathes through her nose as I run a fingertip over the tape covering her lips, her eyes still firmly closed and refusing to acknowledge me.
The next pieces of tape are on her nipples. Her lean, firm body is exposed save for two x’s crossing out the part of her body I want to see most.
And there’s another x of tape on her pussy. I smirk, hoping she was shaved or waxed, otherwise tearing that off will be much harder to bear.
Finally, her legs are stuck to the wall at the ankles, spread apart.
“I heard a rumor that you were going to this school, too,” I mutter against Francesca’s ear while she pants behind the duct tape covering her pouty lips. “But I thought it sounded simply too good to be true.”
She whimpers as I grip her cheeks with one hand.
“Open your eyes, Francesca.”
At this, she moans and shakes her head.
“Do it, Francesca.”
Shakily, her eyes open. Her pupils dilate as she focuses them on mine, staring deep within me. I can see the recognition sinking in, and the moment of horror as she realizes who I am. She instantly shuts her eyes again.
“Do you remember me?”
She shakes her head, and I laugh, pulling out a small knife from my pocket. Slowly, I place the blade against her cheek and she lets out a muffled gasp.
“Got you to open your eyes,” I smirk, putting it away, and she flushes in response. “Anyway, seems that the tables have turned, haven’t they, Francesca? When we met, you were the princess, but now I’m the fucking prince. And don’t lie to me, you little slut. I know you recognize me.”