Page 36 of Vicious Intentions
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I admit, a lump forming in my throat at the mere suggestion. “All things considered, I mean.”
If any Donato were to so much as step onto Outfit territory, it would be a death sentence. And no matter how much I long to see Raffaele again, I would never want him to risk his life for me.
“Yeah. You’re probably right,” he mutters despondently. “But if I could, would you want me to? Would you even want to see me again?”
“What kind of question is that?” I smile. “Of course I would.”
“Really?” His voice brightens instantly.
“Raffaele Donato,” I say with a giggle, “if I could teleport you here right this second, I would.”
“Teleportation, huh?” he jokes. “You know there are these little things called planes, right? My family has, like, three of them.”
“Are you showing off now?” I tease, feeling lighter now that he is joking again.
“Just stating a fact, angel. How many does your family have?”
“One,” I reply. “And that’s only because we’re mindful of our environmental footprint.”
“Footprint?” He laughs. “This blue marble is going down the drain eventually. Why stress about it when you can enjoy the ride while it lasts?”
“Remind me to have the environmental responsibility talk with you again.”
“Please don’t,” he groans. “My head is already a mess. I don’t need to feel guilty about destroying the planet, too.”
“Alright,” I say with a smile. “I’ll give you one day of grace. Tomorrow, we revisit the topic.”
“Geez. Thanks,” he retorts playfully.
Then, as if all the worry and sadness that Raffaele had been carrying before calling me, simply seems to evaporate, as he starts animatedly talking about this and that. About nothing and everything. And just like that, he’s himself again.
I spend most of the time I was supposed to be in class on the phone with him, grateful that I was able to lighten his spirits.When I finally hang up, I feel like I’ve done my job as his best friend. Like I showed up when he needed me most.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and gather my books from the bench. The bell will ring soon, which means Marcello will be here to pick me up. If he sees me coming from behind the chapel, he’ll ask questions. Questions that will lead to admitting I skipped class. And I don’t want that. Because then he’ll ask why, and I want to keep Raffaele a secret for as long as I can.
But I don’t have time to make my escape, since two boys suddenly appear before me, halting my next step, with huge, ugly smirks on their faces. My hackles immediately rise when I recognize them from class—Alec Parkinson, Blair’s boyfriend, and Tim Gavin, Victoria’s long-time crush. Blair and Victoria are very familiar faces in my life, for all the wrong reasons, and their counterparts are just as unpleasant.
“Well, look what we have here,” Alec sneers as he walks toward me and smacks the books out of my hands. I back away from them, only to stop when my spine hits a tree. “If it isn’t Mother Teresa herself,” he adds mockingly. “Anna-fucking-Maria.”
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice tight.
“What do I want?” Alec repeats, his smirk widening. “Better question is, what are you offering?”
When my confusion shows on my face, they both burst out laughing.
“God, she’s clueless,” Tim bellows with an ominous chuckle. “Bet she’s still a virgin too.”
“How about we find out together?” Alec says, winking at Tim.
“Stop,” I protest as his hand closes around my sleeve.
“Make us, bitch,” Alec replies, his voice low and menacing as he yanks hard enough for the fabric to tear beneath his grip.
My back presses harder into the rough bark of the tree behind me, splinters biting through my blazer. The sudden rip jolts through me, panic flaring as my body instinctively tries to recoil with nowhere to go. Fear crashes in, sharp and suffocating, stealing the air from my lungs as my heart pounds wildly in my chest.
“Let me go!” I cry, my voice louder now, breaking as it echoes through the trees.
But they don’t listen. Alec stays close, blocking any chance of escape, while Tim steps in, his hand clutching the front of my cardigan. He yanks at it so hard that buttons tear free and scatter onto the grass at my feet, the sound too loud, too final for my mind to fully process.
