CHAPTER 3
EVE
The next morning, I decide I will do everything in my power to forget Vincent goes to school here. I do my best to focus on starting my day, one small step at a time. After washing up and getting dressed, I take a quick trip to the dining hall for a gigantic coffee and a bagel. Bringing the food back to my desk and sitting quietly to eat, I do my best not to get any crumbs on the floor. Finally, I crack open my economics textbook.
My room is a simple square, located on the third floor of one of the old gothic buildings making up the freshman quad. The desk next to mine is empty; I was supposed to have a roommate, but she decided last minute to defer admission for a year. After living in the Blue Houses—where I could hear my neighbor’s conversations and smell everyone’s cooking twenty-four seven—this room has become my own little sanctuary.
Staring at the supply-and-demand curve, I again reread the same passage. I need this shit to make sense! I drop my head on my desk and groan. It’s only ten in the morning, and I already feel tired.
And then, like a three-dimensional puzzle with a gaping hole in the center, my brain finds the missing piece and places it right where it belongs. “Oh, thank God!” I exclaim out loud. “I understand! I get it!”
I jump up from my chair, dancing to music that isn’t on, shaking my ass left to right. My phone buzzes mid-dance, and I smile wide when I see it’s Claire. After my weird stunt yesterday, I was worried she’d write me off.
Claire: Meet me at my dorm @ 10. Brearley Houses. Come earlier if you want to pre-game!
Me: I’m planning on studying today, not sure if I’ll be feeling up to going out later. Can I text you?
Claire: Come on, girl! We’ll have fun! Come out!
I look back at the economics book. I deserve to go out, right? I promised Janelle last week that I’d do my best to get out more at night. Now that I’m living in relative safety, I don’t have to be a hermit. And, while it’s hard to change my old ways, it’s something I’m consciously trying to modify about myself.
“You know what?” I exclaim loudly into my empty room. “I’m going out.”
Me: Okay. I’ll be there. See you later!
The day goes by with my head in the books, my only break to run down to the campus deli to pick up a turkey sandwich and another large coffee.
By evening, my brain feels completely fried. I lift my hands to my hair and try to pull the rubber band from my ponytail. When it gets caught in a knot, I whimper, trying to pull it free. I finally remove it, but not without ripping out a bunch of hairs in the process. Ouch.
Looking at my old worn-out clothing, I take stock of my situation. I seriously need to revive myself if I’m going to be seen in public tonight. I quickly undress, slide on my blue robe and Old Navy flip-flops, and grab my lime-green shower caddy. Peeking out of my door to make sure the hallway is clear, I sprint to the girl’s bathroom, praying with each step that I won’t bump into someone. I know it’s only girls on this floor, but I’m self-conscious about being seen in nothing other than a terry-cloth bathrobe.
After shaving and scrubbing as best as I can, I grab the fancy shampoo Janelle brought me from her swanky salon and massage my scalp with my fingertips. I inhale, smelling the creamy coconut scent. After rinsing, I take out the conditioner and let it sit in my hair for three-minutes, exactly as the instructions suggest. I’m standing and waiting for the time to pass when I hear a few girls walking into the bathroom, giggling.
“…saw them at the business center!”
“I seriously can’t even—”
“You can’t?” another voice interrupts. “Well, I can! Doesn’t Vincent look like he’d be a total savage in bed? God, I bet he fucks like—”
Laughter.
I hear a swishing sound in my ears. I want to turn away, pretend that I didn’t just hear his name in the context of sex with someone, but I can’t un-hear the words.
Their high-pitched voices taper off until I hear the door clang shut.
My face contorts into an ugly cry. No sound is coming out of my mouth, but the silent moans wrack my chest. Tears run furiously down my face, mingling with the shower water. My heart moves low into my stomach, my mother’s voice barging into the forefront of my mind. She’s railing. I can hear her words echoing against my skull. “You’re nothing! A zero!”
I lean my hands against my knees under the spray, trying not to heave as my stomach twists. I slightly turn my head and come face to face with my beautiful shampoo bottle. Even with Janelle’s salon discount, it was still crazy expensive. But, she wanted me to go to school with “good hair.” According to her, it would help me do better in my classes. Somehow, I manage a small chuckle along with my tears. Then Angelo forces himself into my mind, too. Angelo, who thinks I’m destined for great things. They’re the scaffolding to the strong and independent woman I want to become. I need to lean on their opinions of me, and not let some asshole tear me down.
I put my hands back to my sides and stand taller. I rinse my hair, and with as much strength as I can muster, open the shower curtain and put my robe back on. Gathering my wits, I leave the bathroom with my head held high.
After getting into my room, I slide on an old band T-shirt that one of Janelle’s ex-boyfriends gave her. I conveniently took it along with a few other items before moving out because, well, sisters! I take out my blow-dryer and a round brush, placing it on my desk while I separate my hair into sections, drying my hair piece by piece, just as Janelle taught me.
I look in my mirror, relieved that I managed to turn thick dark hair into something relatively smooth. I drop the brush at my desk, exclaiming, “Fuck love!” Better yet, fuck Vincent Borignone! I’m going to work as hard as I can while I’m here, and I’m not allowing a man to take advantage of me again. I’m a freshman with my head in the books, and it seems that he’s the most notorious bad boy on campus. Why would our paths ever cross? They shouldn’t. And thank God for that. I couldn’t bear for him to see me. Would he laugh? I’m sure he would. I was so stupid.
I pull out a pair of tight black jeans and a simple white tank from the top from my closet. Sliding on a stack of gold bangles I bought from H&M, I finish myself off with some clear lip gloss and a little mascara. I feel casual, but a hell of a lot better than I did an hour ago.
I’m no longer that pathetic girl who hides behind her sister and her books. I’m new. I’m improved. And Vincent Borignone can kiss. My. Ass. At the end of the day, all that shit is behind me. It’s done. And I’m… over it!
Like a horrible thunderstorm, memories of the two of us flash through my head. But this time, I inject my newfound knowledge into every past moment. We met at the fight, but he was with Daniela—who probably gave him a blowjob in the bathroom. He brought me to the skating rink, but he likely went home that same night to Daniela, who was waiting for him, wearing nothing but sexy black lingerie and high fuck-me heels. He took me to pizza but shot those Russians in the head while Pauli distracted me with conversation!
The Borignone mafia is nothing if not arrogant and powerful. Just last month, I read a newspaper article about an explosion killing an FBI agent and his wife in their car. Apparently, this agent was garnering evidence to bring forward a case against the Borignone mafia. And Vincent is part of this? I shake my head side to side, disgusted that I ever touched him. I vaguely wonder what part he plays. Is he simply a soldier at the lowest rung? No way. He’s too intelligent for that. Maybe he’s one of the Capo who reports to the boss? Even that feels like it isn’t enough. As the son of Antonio, I have no doubt that he plays a crucial role in their sick schemes.
I grab the small black bag Janelle bought for me as a graduation gift, filling it with some essentials: lip gloss, cell phone, my ID, and some cash. I leave my room, taking the steps to the lobby. Pushing open the building’s large wooden front door, I inhale the scent of flowers. The campus is simply beautiful and perfectly maintained—an oasis in the city.
I take my time walking to Claire’s. Even though it’s evening, the entire school is lit up with huge streetlamps. I pause to read a silver engraved plaque located on the back of a wooden bench: IN LOVING MEMORY OF DAN BROWNING, WHO ALWAYS LIKED TO SIT. I chuckle, rolling my eyes to high heaven. These rich people have so much money, and they spend it on this shit? I shake my head at the absurdity of it all and finish my short walk to Claire’s dorm.
“Hey,” the guy at the front desk stares at his phone intently. “Who are you here for?” His hair is long in the front and covers most of his eyes.
“I’m waiting for Claire, um, I’m not sure her last name. But she’s a sophomore.”
He finally lifts his head and pauses, his mouth hanging slightly open and cheeks turning pink. I look down at my clothes, self-consciously wondering if there’s something wrong with me.
“Do you want to w-wait here, or go up?” His eyes flicker between my eyes, lips, and boobs.
“Uh, I’ll just wait here,” I mumble, pulling my tank higher to cover me better. I take a seat in one of the lobby’s plastic chairs, typing out a message to Claire that I’m waiting downstairs.
I try to relax. I’m still unsure about the best way to cope with this new world. It’s hard enough to sit in class with these entitled rich kids, but it’s even harder to have to go out socially and try to act like I’m the same as they are. In my heart, I’m still the poor girl from the ghetto. I know technically, I’ve left my old life behind—I’m a student here, just like everyone else. But still, the past remains with me. The result is a sense of not really belonging anywhere. Maybe if I just pretend to be like them for long enough, my new persona will become me. Eve Petrov, Columbia-educated woman. Eve Petrov, attorney-at-law. I like the sound of that.
I look back up again at the guy sitting at the front desk. He doesn’t look much older than I am. I once read that every passerby has a life as vivid and complex as my own. I wonder if that could possibly be true. He looks like any other preppy white kid, but then again, he’s working here tonight instead of chugging beers at a frat house.
Claire walks out of the elevator. She looks beautiful in a fitted jean jacket and a long black cotton dress with a high slit in the thigh. Her outfit is casual but still manages to show off her toned body. When we look at each other, I feel a combination of relief and happiness. I know we’ve only just met, but it feels like we could be good friends.
“Hey, girl! I’m glad you decided to come out.” Her voice is upbeat. I stand from the chair, and we head out into the night.
“Where are all of your friends?” I rub my hands up and down my arms. Since I left my dorm, it seems that the weather has dropped fifteen degrees.
“They may meet us there later,” Claire replies. “It’s just the two of us for now. Oh, by the way, the party is close, so we can walk. Totally beats having to get in a cab, right? Maybe we should go downtown to a bar in the West Village later if the party here sucks. Did you bring an ID by any chance?” Her voice is hopeful.
I nod my head, relieved that my age won’t cause a problem. “Yeah. My sister called the DMV over the summer and told them she lost her driver’s license, so they sent her a new one and I got to keep her old.”
“Oh my God, that’s so lucky! Mine is just one of the older girls in Phi Alpha, and she looks nothing like me!” We laugh.
Even though we didn’t drive, Janelle thought it was important for us to have driver’s licenses. Somehow, she got Vania’s brother to lend us his old Volvo once a week so we could practice.
Claire and I finally get off campus. Everywhere I turn, college students are ignoring traffic signals, or running drunkenly from one corner to the next. A group of girls, all in short skirts, walk ahead of us.
Finally, we enter a small but obviously expensive-looking building. The uniformed doorman nods to us as we walk into the elevator. Claire pushes the button for the penthouse level and we smile at each other excitedly. The door opens directly into a huge loft. Claire immediately steps out, but it takes me a second to realize this is the party.
Hard-core rap music blares on the speakers. I step inside, doing my best to give off a casual vibe as if this social scene doesn’t scare me. But the truth is everything around me serves as a reminder that I’m out of place. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows and an open floor plan give the apartment an airy feel. The walls are filled with beautiful black-and-white photography, framed in silver and gold. This place screams money.
I turn my head to see a green ping-pong table along the wall by the kitchen. Some people are playing a drinking game on it, throwing balls into cups on the opposite side of the table. There’s a beautiful brown leather sectional couch in the center of the room. A coffee table is littered with ashtrays, red cups, and empty water bottles. Random pockets of students grind their bodies together to the music.
Before saying hello to anyone, Claire walks us into a large chrome and silver kitchen. Bottles of alcohol are spread out chaotically across a white marble island. She checks them out and finally picks up a magnum of vodka that’s already half empty. She pours some into two large plastic cups, adding some Diet Pepsi to each. After handing one to me, and taking the other for herself, we walk to the side of the living room. Clinking our drinks together, we take our first sips. The swallow burns, but I do my best not to flinch.
“To new friends,” she says.
“New friends.” My heart actually warms in my chest.
Claire checks her phone while I look around the party. I put my lips back onto the cup’s rim when I lock eyes across the room with a familiar guy. He’s big and built, but also really preppy looking. It only takes a moment for me to realize that we’re both staring at each other questioningly, trying to place the other. Wait. Is this who I think it is? Oh. My. God. Does he remember meeting me? Vincent introduced me to him the night of the underground fight in the Meatpacking District. Did Vincent ever tell him about us? Does he know anything? Is he also Borignone mafia?
He starts to move through the crowd, seemingly toward me.
My heart thumps.
Some girl stops him to say hello and he barely gives her a second glance. He’s on his way.
He reaches his destination—me. Standing tall and naturally imposing, I’d peg him at over six feet tall, and in this moment, I’m wishing I wore a pair of higher heels. I feel like a kid in front of this man.
“Holy shit,” he says, not unkindly. “You’re Eve.” His lips quirk up into a smile, but I can tell there are nerves behind his relaxed demeanor.
“Do you know Claire?” I point to her, deflecting. His eyes smile as he takes her in.
“Of course, I do.”
Claire rolls her eyes as if she’s been there and done that. “Yeah,” she says. “I know Tom.” She cocks her head to the side and crosses her arms over her chest, full of attitude. He doesn’t look daunted.
“Oh, come on, Claire,” he laughs. “We had some fun together, didn’t we?”
“Huh,” she says skeptically. “I vaguely remember sitting in the dining hall with the rest of my pledge class when we all got a text on our phone at the same time.” Claire’s face is reddening, but Tom looks like he’s trying not to laugh.
“And you wouldn’t believe it, Eve, but, it was the same exact message. From the same guy. And do you know what this text said to each and every one of us?”
I let my gaze bounce between the two of them.
“It said”—she lifts her hands to make air quotes—“Netflix and chill?”
Tom breaks out into laughter. “Come on—I was throwing out an option and figured someone would respond! How was I supposed to know you were all together?”
“We were all pledging Phi Alpha! We were together for the entire semester, you moron.”
“All right, so I got busted. Doesn’t mean you and I didn’t have fun while it lasted though, right?”
I want to ask if Vincent is here, but I don’t have the nerve. Tom glances toward the couch. I turn my eyes and—there he is, facing away from me while Daniela straddles his lap. The back of his head rests against the cushion while she grinds up against him to the music.
I turn away, trying not to stare. Tom looks at me with pity in his eyes and all at once, I feel like crying. He must know everything. I wish I could care less about this right now. Against all odds, I made it to one of the best schools in the country. I have everything paid for and taken care of. My sister is safe. I’m safe. I have a nice clean bedroom to sleep in every night. I’m on a path to success. I can’t let this bother me.
Still, seeing them in front of my face feels like I’m receiving punishment for a crime I never committed. I need to get out of here before Vincent sees me. The last thing on earth I want right now is to bump into him while he’s with his girlfriend.
Tom seems to notice my distress. He shrugs his shoulders as if to say that what I’m witnessing is just the normal course of things.
“You girls want another drink? Eve, you look like you could use one.”
“We just got,” Claire replies, lifting her full cup. “But I could use a bottle of water.”
Tom nods. “No problem. Let me grab one for you.” He turns, walking toward the kitchen.
Claire’s eyes follow Tom as he saunters off. “Ugh, he is such a man-whore. Then again, we did have a lot of fun together.”
“Yeah,” I reply, taking another huge gulp of my drink. If she’s still talking, I wouldn’t know. I need an exit strategy, stat.
Claire turns her head toward Vincent and Daniela. “He’s best friends with Vincent. That guy, over there.” She points to his back. “I know Vincent’s gorgeous, but he’s so intense. I don’t know what it is about him, but he always looks so aggressive…so, dominant. I obviously get the appeal, but sometimes he just like, scares the shit out of me.”
“Tom looks pretty intense, too,” I add.
“Yeah, but not in the same way. Tom is sort of free-spirited; he messes around and makes a lot of jokes. He’s definitely got that aggressive side too, but not like Vincent. Vincent is like, brilliant. And huge. And rough.” She laughs, taking another sip of her drink. “They say he got a full scholarship, even though he’s a gazillionaire!”
“Oh.” I shrug and take a deep breath, my gaze falling back on the asshole who cared for me—during my lowest moments—like no one else. I need to hold myself together, at least until I find somewhere private to cry.
A girl I’ve never met before walks over to Claire. “Do you see the bag Daniela has?” She’s huffing, annoyance written all over her pale face. “How the hell did she even find it? I looked everywhere for that bag and it was sold out! Barneys, Bergdorf, Net-a-Porter, everywhere!”
I’ve recently come to understand that in this rich people’s world—where everyone has the money, the looks, and the intellect—connections and access are what reign supreme. Because when everyone can afford the newest “it” bag, it’s no longer exciting or special to have it. The goal becomes about having a bag that others can’t get their hands on.
“Who cares? I think it’s ugly anyway,” Claire looks at me and winks. “By the way Alexa, this is Eve. Eve, this is Alexa. She’s a junior in Phi Alpha.”
Alexa turns to me, giving a genuine smile. “Nice to meet you. Are you planning to rush?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe?” I lift a shoulder in question.
“You totally should. We have a lot of fun and it’s great to have a smaller community within the college scene. Especially since the city is so huge, you know? It’s good to have that close-knit family feeling.”
She turns her body again to face Claire. “A few of us are heading over to another party in the building next door. Come with?”
“We just got here. I think we’ll stay for a bit.” The girls air-kiss goodbye and Alexa waves to me as she walks away.
Claire plunges a hand into her huge purse, searching for something. “I almost forgot!” She pulls out two small bags of pretzels and hands one to me. “I brought these for us so we won’t get too drunk tonight. Carbs to soak up the alcohol!”
I take the pretzels from her hand, feeling like crying even harder now. The fact that she thought of me enough to bring this little snack is beyond thoughtful. I’ve never really had anyone in my life other than Janelle who I could call a friend. And in this moment, Claire is seriously coming close to that mark.
Tom walks back over with a bottle of Poland Spring and within seconds, they’re shamelessly flirting. I drop the pretzels into my bag and hold my drink in a death grip as my eyes move back to Vincent and Daniela. I just can’t stop myself; watching him with her is like staring at an awful car crash. It’s sickening to see, but impossible to turn from.
Apparently, I’m not the only one with a staring problem because Daniela’s stripper dance is beginning to garner interest. Katy Perry and Rihanna’s “Black Horse” booms on the speakers as a few preppy-looking guys move closer together, hooting and hollering as she grinds on Vincent. It’s obvious she’s loving all of the attention she’s getting; her seductive dancing only increases with their cheers. Her narrow hips slowly circle as her long auburn hair sways down her back. The look in her eyes is seduction.
She spins around in an expert-looking move. While the front of her top was relatively modest, the back is entirely open and strung together with nothing other than a few delicate gold chains. The shirt showcases her milky-white skin. I wish I could see Vincent’s face, but he’s still sitting looking away from me.
Daniela finally moves off him when the music changes. I know it’s not rational, but I feel instantly relieved. Some of the guys who were watching start to boo, begging her to keep dancing. She demurely shrugs as if she didn’t even realize anyone was watching her. “Oh, please,” I say under my breath.
Meanwhile, Vincent leans forward on the couch, seemingly ignoring everyone and focusing on a muted UFC match on the big-screen TV in front of him. I step closer to Tom and Claire. Strangely, it feels like Tom keeps darting his eyes toward me. He’s not giving off any sexual interest, but he is for sure watching me.
I glance back to see Daniela walking toward her friends. Pulling out a phone from her bag, she leans into the group with her arm extended forward, posing for selfies.
I subconsciously lift my tank top higher, making sure I’m not showing too much skin. I let out a groan of irritation. I’m sick and tired of the same old issues that I’ve always had—the same boring flaws and anxieties that have been gnawing at me for years. Every girl here is dressed sexy and I can, too. I’m in college, a place for reinvention within relative safety. I have nothing to fear anymore. I pull my tank down just a bit so that the top of my breasts show. There!
All of a sudden, Daniela and her friends turn to me together. Oh, shit. They totally caught me staring. I do a quick about-face and try to act like I’m part of the conversation between Claire and Tom.
I feel a soft hand on my back and I immediately flinched, turning around.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Daniela says with a saccharine smile. “Having fun?” Her perfectly plucked auburn eyebrows are raised in question.
I want to look happy, but my face won’t move. Luckily, Claire turns to us then, her presence immediately breaking the potential for awkwardness. Tom casually drapes an arm around Daniela’s thin shoulder and pulls her in for a hug. Of course, they’re friends. This is his best friend’s girlfriend.
“How was your summer, Claire?” she asks as she relaxes comfortably into Tom’s side. She sounds just as a rich girl would: confident and perfectly measured. Claire, who I could swear was slouching just a moment ago, is now standing ramrod straight with her stomach pulled in and shoulders back.
“It was great. I was working in Malawi actually.” She glances down for a moment before resuming eye contact.
“I always knew you were one of those do-gooder types. You’re pre-med, right?”
“Yeah,” Claire says proudly. “Did you declare your major?”
“Yeah. I’m business.” Her voice is upbeat. “I plan to work with my father’s bank after graduation; so this works for me.”
I hate that she has a brain. If she were stupid, I’d feel a whole lot better about this entire conversation right now. I stand silently, hoping that everyone just forgets I exist.
Unfortunately, I have no such luck. Daniela turns her face toward mine, placing a hand on her chest. “I’m Daniela by the way.” Pointing to a group of girls who are now standing behind her, she introduces them next. “This is Allie, Jenna, and Julie.” She turns to another girl standing slightly behind them. “Oh, and that’s Quinn.”
“Hi!” they all reply in unison. I eye each one of them, their hair all long and highlighted in the same honey-blonde shade. The girls stand around Daniela as if they’re her secretaries, ready to do her bidding at a moment’s notice.
Daniela’s smile is back on me. “You should take a look at Omega Chi during rush next semester.” She looks me up and down, assessing me. “You’re so pretty. I feel like you would really fit in with us.” I blink a few times nervously, feeling confused. I know she’s speaking English, but it’s as if there’s an undercurrent to her words that I can’t catch onto.
“So, what’s your name?” she asks expectantly.
I clear my throat, hoping that I can get a word out. “Eve.” I rub my sweaty palms on my thighs, wishing she’d leave me alone.
She nods her head slightly as if my name is suitable to her. “Well, we’re all about to head out. This party totally sucks. But I’m so glad we met. See you soon, Eve.” She struts off in her black stiletto heels, her posse walking behind her.
The moment they’re gone, I lean back against the wall, looking for support. Claire is about to say something when I interrupt her. “Do you know where the bathroom is?”
“It’s in the back, second door to the left,” Tom replies with a piercing gaze. Does he think I’m going to steal something? Jeez.
Before I walk away, Claire gives me a face like holy shit I can’t believe Daniela was here just now, but then looks back at Tom to continue chatting. I walk away from them, moving as quickly as I can. For a moment, I wonder if I should turn around and leave the party. But Daniela may be in the lobby, waiting for a ride or something. I don’t want to bump into her.
Luckily, I find the bathroom quickly and walk right inside, locking the door behind me. It’s small, white, and thankfully still clean. I put my hands on either side of the sink and bow my head, my breathing labored. How long should I stay in here?
I finally lift my face and look at my reflection. My hair, which I painstakingly straightened a few hours ago, now has a wave to it and my face is flushed, lips puffy. I look down at my wrist and find a skinny black hair tie. Pulling my hair back in a tight bun, I immediately feel better. Turning on the faucet, I put my wrists under the ice-cold water, trying to cool my body down. I feel completely depleted from seeing Vincent and meeting Daniela. All I want to do is run back to my dorm room and cry myself to sleep.
What I need to do is leave this party. I let out a whimper and stare at myself hard, willing the tears not to leave my eyes. Everything with Vincent was blown up in my childish mind. He has his own life, and I was nothing more than his little sideshow. What a joke I must have been. A pathetic joke. I’m going to walk back into the party and tell Claire that I have a terrible headache. Hopefully, I’ll be able to find her quickly and without incident.
I hear a knock on the bathroom door. “Just a s-second.” I try to stop my voice from stammering. I take a few deep breaths when I hear another hard bang.
“Just a minute!” I yell again, my voice stronger. I stare at myself, trying to muster the strength to go back outside.
“Whoever is fuckin’ in there, better get out.” It’s a man on the other side, his voice deep and angry. I turn around, swinging the door open with annoyance. What a jerk!
A huge body looms in front of me. We lock eyes, both rooted to our respective spots. The plot of my life just doesn’t make sense anymore.
“Eve?” The tone of his voice registers that he’s completely stunned. He puts his hands on either side of the doorframe, seemingly to steady himself.
“Uh…” My entire brain goes on mute as I drop my head and stare at dark denim hugging muscular thighs, my eyes track upward to a tight black T-shirt that stretches across a wide chest, and finally, my eyes lock with a dark and penetrating gaze that belongs to only one man.
“Eve?” he repeats. While I didn’t think it would be possible, his stare deepens. All I can process is how vulnerable I feel in this moment. When Vincent looks at me, it’s as if he can see within me. It’s exposure I both yearn for and despise.
In a blink, he steps inside and locks the door behind him. He bends down and lifts me onto the counter, dropping his head in my neck and breathing me in. My legs immediately spread apart to make room for him to get closer. He wraps his huge hands on either side of my head, keeping me in place while he lowers his head to look straight at me again as if to confirm that I’m real.
“You’re here? But, how—” his voice breaks off. I listen to his shallow breaths mixed with mine.
Seeing him face to face like this brings it all back in a rush. He’s so intense. I swallow hard. How much time passes with us locked in the bathroom like this, I have no idea. I’m lost to him. All of my pain and anger seems to have gone up in smoke. I want to stay lost in his eyes and simply savor this moment and the way he’s looking at me.
He keeps his hands on the sides of my face, thumbs gently rubbing my temples. It’s soothing and arousing. I’d clamp my legs together to stop the ache if I could, but his huge body is still between them, not allowing me any movement. I’m melting for this man. And it isn’t the fact that he’s insanely sexy. It’s more. It’s him.
He wraps his arms around me again, pulling me into his chest for another firm squeeze. “Did you know I was here?”
I take a deep breath, confused by his implication. Is he saying that I followed him here? To school?
“What? I didn’t know at first…but I, I saw you…” The truth comes rushing back into the front of my mind. Vincent has a girlfriend. Vincent is Borignone mafia. I physically shrink back from him.
His eyes change as if he notices the change in my demeanor and isn’t happy about it. “When did you see me?” Lines form on his forehead. Clearly, Vincent isn’t a man who is used to surprises.
I shrug, trying my best not to sound as broken as I feel. “I saw you with your g-girlfriend in the dining hall.” I wish I were one of those girls who could look him in the eye and dare him to lie to my face. Instead, my voice comes out sounding insecure and small. I drop my eyes to the floor. Even though he’s the liar, I’m the one who is embarrassed. He saw me as a girl who wasn’t worthy to be his. He made me feel as though we had something special, but clearly, I was mistaken.
He presses his thumb under my chin to lift up my head. “There’s a lot to that, Eve. But, I’m just…” he sighs, tracing my full lips with his finger, stunning me quiet with his gentleness. “I just can’t believe this. I need to explain everything to you, and I promise I will. But, can we just chill tonight?” He lets out a deep breath as I sit, staring at him in confusion. He wants to hang out tonight? What. The. Hell? I stare at him like he’s insane.
“I know you must be hurt by what you’ve heard.” He has the decency to look down for a moment, but when he lifts them back to meet mine, his dark eyes are full of hope. “Can we just pretend that we’re all good, and trust that I’ll explain it all later? Nothing is as it seems. Trust me.”
My rational mind is saying no. Actually, it’s screaming “FUCK NO” at the top of its lungs. But my heart is beating with the word “Yes.” He’s here and I can’t believe how much I missed him. I almost forgot how good it felt to be looked at in this way. How could this Vincent I’m staring at be the man in the photos? It just can’t be! The man I’m staring at is warm, loving, and gentle. He saved me from the hands of a madman. He doesn’t gallivant around town with a socialite and then kill people after hours with the mob! I can’t reconcile his sides.
He seems to sense my hesitancy because before I can make a final decision, he steps forward, hugging me into his chest, essentially making the choice for me. He lifts me back into his arms and gently sets me back on my feet. “I may not deserve this chance. But fuck if I’m not gonna take it.” His voice is rough, and damn my traitorous body, but it melts a little more for him.
“Wait right at the door. Give me a second, yeah?” I step outside and the door closes. A minute later, I hear the flush of a toilet and the water turn on, as though he’s washing his hands. Finally, he exits. The look of relief on his face that I didn’t leave is evident.
Taking my hand, his steps are certain and strong as we walk. The crowd of people literally parts as he moves. I’m trailing behind, nervously holding onto his hand, but keeping my head down. We get into the kitchen when he picks me up with something that feels like tenderness, totally at odds with his hard demeanor. He places me on top of the marble counter.
I move my lips to his ear, whispering, “Why do you keep manhandling me?”
“Don’t take that away from me,” he whispers back, bending his head so we can continue to speak at eye level. “You know I love it. You’re so tiny and it feels so good to keep you safe.” He moves his gaze from my lips up to my eyes and back down again.
“But, Vincent, I don’t need—”
“I know you don’t need. But I want.”
His dark eyes shine, telling me he sees me. And the truth is, he’s the only one who ever has. He licks his full lips. “God, Eve, you look—” he stops. Raking his hands through his hair, seemingly to gather himself. “Are you happy here? Are you living in the dorms? You have everything you need, right?”
Instead of replying, I want to ask him some questions of my own. Like, where the hell has he been? And how could he see me when he had a fucking girlfriend? And how did he hide the fact that he’s Vincent Borignone? I internally groan, feeling frustrated. Apparently, I talk a big game. But when push comes to shove, I have no backbone. Why the hell am I sitting here in front of him? If I were Janelle, I would have raged and caused a huge scene. I would make sure that he paid the price for lying to me! Better yet, she would have thrown one of these huge bottles of Vodka at his head. But, I’m not Janelle. And when I’m near Vincent, I lose all rational thought.
“Breathe,” he says, giving me a crooked grin. “I promise we’ll talk about everything, okay? You didn’t change your mind now about hanging out, have you?” His voice is full of question and I manage to nod my head, albeit reluctantly.
“Yes. I mean, no, I…I haven’t changed my mind.” I feel my face turning beet red.
He steps between my legs again, moving his mouth to my ear. “Don’t change.” He grabs a bottle of water from the counter and drinks it down in a swallow. Dropping the empty bottle in the sink, he leans forward on his hands, caging me in. The party may be full, but we may as well be alone. His face is so close to mine that I can feel the energy coursing between us. Right now, it’s no one and nothing other than us. My heart falters as he speaks to me with his eyes. Everything in this moment becomes so simple. I stare at his face, trying to memorize every feature. I can’t believe how much I missed him.
Tom throws his arm around Vincent and I gasp from the intrusion. “Wake up, brother. You’re at a public party, remember?” Tom laughs, but it seems there’s a hard undercurrent to his words. He’s looking at Vincent with a face that says get the fuck away from her. I turn to Vincent, who is scowling at him.
After their strange standoff, Vincent moves his face back to mine. “This asshole is always pushing me to come out to these fucking parties. Now that I’m here, he’s unhappy.” He shuffles to the side, shifting an enormous shoulder. For a moment, I remember what he looks like without a shirt on and I feel a throb in my lower belly. Vincent has a body that I’d swear was airbrushed if not for the fact that he’s a living, breathing human and not on a billboard in Times Square. He’s just so…big. Everywhere. I touch my hand to my face and feel it heating up again.
“Yeah,” Tom replies. “You’re supposed to come out to chill with your girlfriend, right?” He exaggerates the word girlfriend.
My breath gets clogged in my throat; I feel like reality just came over and bitch-slapped me. It’s obvious Tom isn’t happy that Vincent is talking to me right now. My hands grip the edge of the counter, wanting to jump off and escape when Vincent grabs my thigh with his hand, essentially keeping me frozen to the spot.
“You’re a funny guy, Tom. Eve here is my friend. You better treat her with some goddamn respect, brother.” He spits out his last word like a curse.
Tom stares at me hard. “Hello, Eve. Welcome to Columbia University.” With those words, he steps back to Claire. I blink nervously.
“So, how are your classes going?” Vincent licks the corner of his lips as he leans his side against the counter, ignoring what just happened with Tom. I’m still staring at him dumbly, the stress making my throat immobile. “Ignore him, yeah? I’ll deal with him later.” I shiver at his words. They’re laced with promise, and not the good kind.
I press my lips together. “My classes are actually p-pretty good. I like them.”
I may be crazy about the old Vincent, but I’m not equipped to handle this new one. As if he knows I’m wavering, he places his hands above my knees, bringing me back into his orbit. I suck my stomach in and take a sharp breath; his proximity is intoxicating. “There are a few kinds of kids at school. You’re obviously the first kind.” His words are teasing, but the way his hands are gripping my thighs are anything but.
“Oh?” My voice squeaks. My entire body is burning up from the heat of his hands and how good it feels to be touched—no—gripped by him.
He raises his eyebrows, fastening his hold. “You think I don’t know you, Eve?” His heavy hands move slightly higher and my eyes widen. “I know you. I remember every single detail. I know you love the stress and the classes and the assignments. Pop quizzes make you giddy. You’re like, ‘Hell yeah! I did the reading; I’m gonna ace this test with my huge brain!’” He speaks in a high voice, making fun of me. Meanwhile, his hands keep roaming up inch by inch. I feel like I may pass out.
“Yeah, so what?” I bite the inside of my cheek but can’t stop the laugh that’s beginning to bubble in my chest. The asshole really does know me! I try to cover my face with my hands, but there’s no stopping it. He picks up his hands from my thighs and brings me into his chest to laugh with me. My laughter only intensifies and I try to control myself, the result being a loud snort. He guffaws when he hears it and I want to die of embarrassment.
Moments later he stops, his face turning serious. It’s as if yesterday I were in his apartment, sleeping next to him in his bed, feeling like I was finally home.
“Oh, Eve,” he says on an exhale. “You’re probably carrying your books around like a good little nerd. Tell me you wear a backpack! Wait...” he pauses, moving back from me for a moment. “Are you as good in math as you are in English?” As usual, for Vincent, I always want to rise to the occasion. I nod my head yes excitedly, but then die a little inside that I do, in fact, have a backpack. I’m going to go home and throw it into the garbage.
“Is Vincent laughing? Holy shit, but I never thought I’d see the day!” Tom shakes his head in surprise while Claire’s mouth hangs open.
“I laugh,” Vincent says, his face like stone. “I just never laugh with you because, well, you aren’t funny.” It’s clear Vincent is still angry over Tom’s words from a few minutes ago.
“I am funny as hell. Claire, tell him how funny I’ve been tonight.”
“You’re hilarious,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes as if he is the most unfunny guy she’s ever met. Her eyes then move to mine, and they’re saying: what the hell is going on here?
Vincent chuckles silently and turns back to me. “Okay, Ms. Brainiac. What’s forty-seven times fifteen?”
“Seven hundred five,” I reply. He looks at me with surprise but continues.
“One hundred twenty-two times seven plus forty-six?”
I picture the numbers in my head. “Nine hundred. That’s easy, give me more.” We’re both laughing again, and I feel like we’re inside this warm and gooey bubble. Everything and everyone outside of us is blurry and dull and… silent.
Wait a second. I look around and realize that the silence is not just in my head. Every single person in the kitchen is staring at us. I hear a voice say, “Who the hell is that?”
Before things can get more awkward, I turn to Claire, relieved that she didn’t leave our side. “Vincent, do you know Claire?” He smiles at her and her face immediately falters. He outstretches his hand in a greeting.
“Hey.” With only one word, her face changes from white to red. Honestly, it’s not her fault. Looking at Vincent straight-on is hard to do without crumbling. Tom rolls his eyes at her inability to speak and throws a possessive arm over her shoulder.
“Tell me something, Claire,” Vincent starts. “Seven thousand one hundred fifty divided by thirteen.”
“Five hundred fifty. Why?” Her eyes bounce between Vincent and Tom. Claire may be gorgeous, but she’s obviously wicked smart.
“Damn, you two girls deserve each other.”
Some of Vincent’s hair gets into his eyes and I’m yearning to push it off his face. Instead, I look away. I shouldn’t be doing this.
“Yo, let’s play quarters!” Tom grabs a bunch of beers and cups off the counter.
Claire takes my hand and pulls me toward the couch with a face full of question. She glances back and forth between Vincent and me as if she’s trying to understand what is going on. I shrug because I don’t have any answers.
We drop down onto the L-shaped leather couch and the boys sit on the bottom of the L so that we can all see each other. Tom explains the rules of the game to me; we each get a chance to bounce a quarter off the table and try to get it into one of the cups full of beer. If you get your quarter into a cup, you choose who in the group has to drink it. The boys keep getting their quarters in and making Claire and me drink. Before I know it, we’re drunk in the best possible way. I feel free and relaxed as I laugh at something stupid Tom says. The alcohol has thankfully shut my inner voice up. All I can see and feel in this moment is a blissful buzz and Vincent’s warm gaze.
Soon enough, the game is forgotten as Tom begins telling us stories about my economics professor, Ms. Williams. Apparently, she used to dance in a cage at Exit, a huge dance club in the city.
“Yo Vincent, remember the moment you noticed it was your professor dancing up there? Jesus…her tits! I was ready to fuckin’ sign up for college after that show!”
“You don’t go here?” I ask.
“Nope. Just come out to party with this asshole.”
I look back at Vincent and my laughter abruptly stops when I glance down at his pants and confirm that he’s carrying a gun. Other people wouldn’t notice, but I’m not other people. I was raised in the hood. How the hell did I not realize in the bathroom just now? Or any of the times we were together last year? Vincent muddles my brain.
The conversation is continuing, but I’m not listening anymore. Terror starts to move through my body. His last name isn’t just a name; this is Vincent Borignone. My heart thumps so hard I feel sick. He’s killed people. He’s a thug. Borignone mafia.
He notices the change in me and sits up to move closer. I lean back, not wanting him to come any closer. The look on his face tells me that he knows what I’m thinking; I forgot how easily Vincent is able to read me. My eyes flicker down to his pants, and he slightly nods, letting me know that yes, he’s carrying right now.
Shrill laughter breaks me out of my mental fog and seems to be coming from above me. I look up only to see a tall blonde teetering in her heels. It’s like slow motion as she falls into me, about to turn me into party roadkill. But before she can crash down, Vincent jumps up, catching her mid-fall. How can a man so big be so agile?
He sets her straight and when she looks at him, she freezes. “Oh, um, hi Vincent.” He dismisses her by turning his back and taking a seat next to me.
“You okay?” he whispers centimeters from my ear. I blink for a second longer than necessary, remembering what his lips feel like. Soft and warm, but so demanding. I’m in the midst of emotional whiplash right now.
“Stop eye-fucking my girl,” Claire says with a giggle. “I know she’s insanely hot, but keep it in the pants, would you?” He jumps away from me as if he’s been slapped. Meanwhile, Tom is looking at him angrily.
I turn around, noticing that mostly everyone in the party is gone. I need to get out of here. Before I can say goodbye, Claire stands up.
“Why don’t we all go out? The night is still young! Eve has an ID too, right? We can go wherever.”
“We?” My eyes open wide.
Vincent laughs at my comment as if it were a joke. “Let’s head over to Goldbar. I heard DMX is coming for Shaun Roses’ birthday.”
I turn to Claire, moving my head side to side in the universal gesture for no. Not one to take no for an answer apparently, Claire grabs my hand and pulls me toward the elevator. “Don’t back out, Eve. This is once in a lifetime.”
“But—
“No buts. We’re gonna end up having the best night ever! Tom and Vincent are probably the most well-connected men in the city, and if you don’t go, I can’t go. Please come. I’ll owe you!” She puts her hands up in prayer and I huff, looking up at the ceiling. I can’t say no to her right now. I’m trying to be social. I’m trying to change my life around. Backing out of this would mean ending a brand-new friendship that I’m not ready to lose. I guess I could go and then leave once we get there. I can use the headache excuse.
“Fine,” I reply dejectedly.
She jumps up and down excitedly as the guys walk over to us. Vincent cracks his knuckles, a serious look on his face.
We step into the elevator. Vincent is next to me, but I focus on when I’ll state my excuse. Should I wait until we’re at the bar?
Exiting the building, we wait on the dim corner for a moment when a long black Escalade pulls up to where we’re standing. The driver steps out of the car and opens the door for us. Claire goes inside first and Tom jumps in behind her. I walk inside next, my heart leaping from my chest as Vincent sits directly next to me. Claire and Tom are in the third row, behind us, giving us privacy I wish we didn’t have. The driver slams the door shut behind us.
The inside of the car is dark. I try to breathe slowly and concentrate on my own heartbeat. When we stop at the next light, I’ll use my headache excuse and ask to be taken back to the dorms. That’s all. Vincent may be a liar with a girlfriend, but he would never hold me against my will, right? I stuff my hand into my purse and grip my phone. I need something to hold onto; it’s like a lifeline right now. I try not to notice that Vincent’s huge legs are spread wide on the seat, brushing against mine. I can sense from my side eye that he’s turning toward me.
I quickly turn my head and look up. “Vincent—”
“Shhh,” he replies, moving closer to me so our legs are flush. “Tonight, let’s have fun. I’ll explain everything later. Trust me, Eve.” He puts his hands up, tucking some loose strands of hair behind my ear with so much intimacy, my heart squeezes.
Right on the heels of that feeling, indignation runs through my blood. How dare he touch me after what I’ve learned?
“What are you doing? Back off!” I whisper-yell. Maybe it’s the darkness, but my outrage and resentment are finally coming through. I didn’t sacrifice everything only to get sucked back into this life.
He sighs, physically moving back from me. “Let’s just be us tonight. I want you to give me that.”
“No,” I huff. “I changed my mind. I can’t do this. Take me home.” I cross my hands over my chest, trying to protect myself.
“Come on. Just one night.” His voice is tight; it’s obvious he isn’t accustomed to pleading. “DMX is playing. How can you say no to that?” His white teeth shine and I immediately want to knock them out.
“Vincent Borignone.” I state his full name like a curse. “You’re a liar! And I want to go home,” I hiss.
“Don’t say that. I told you I’d explain.” He’s angry now, sitting taller than a moment ago.
“What could you possibly say?” My words come out with fury. We both look behind us and see that Claire and Tom are making out in the back, seemingly oblivious to what’s going on right in front of them.
Vincent straightens. “Can you turn up the volume, please?” he asks the driver.
“Yes, sir.” Britney Spears’ “I’m a Slave For You” gets louder.
“Tonight, let everything go. I swear to God. I swear to Jesus. I’ll explain everything to you later, okay? Don’t go back on your word. You should trust me, after everything I’ve done for you.”
“You’re kidding, right? How dare you throw our past in my face?”
His entire demeanor sets in a hard line. This man isn’t going to play fair and it’s clear he isn’t above using everything in his arsenal to get what he wants. He’s right, though. He saved my life. I owe him.
“Fine.” I angle my body toward the window. I may go out with him tonight, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.