Page 43 of Ghost Ribbon

Chapter 13 - Alexei

By the time our so-called lesson finally wound down, Marco looked like he had been dragged through hell and back. His cheeks were still flushed a deep pink, his dark curls were slightly mussed from how many times he had run his hands through them in frustration, and his shoulders sagged with exhaustion.

The poor little thing had spent the better part of an hour trying to teach me Italian while I systematically dismantled every attempt at professionalism. He was utterly drained, and I had enjoyed every second of it.

I leaned back in my chair, watching him closely. Every time I glanced away, pretending to look at the window or the clock, I caught him glaring at me from beneath those long lashes. The glare was adorable. But the moment my eyes returned to his face, that defiance melted away.

He softened instantly, shoulders hunching, gaze dropping to the desk like a startled rabbit. It was fascinating. And incredibly satisfying.

He started gathering his things, shoving notebooks into his backpack with clumsy movements.

“You know,” I said calmly, “you can glare at me if you want.”

Marco froze mid-zip, one hand still gripping the strap of his backpack. He swallowed, his eyes flicking up to meet mine for a second before darting away again.

I tilted my head. “I won’t kill you if you do.”

His head snapped up fully this time, eyes wide with genuine surprise. “Really?” He searched my face like he was waiting for the punchline, or the threat. It was painfully obvious he thought I might actually end him for something as simple as a glare.

“Yes, really,” I replied. “Glare all you want, Malyshka.”

“I don’t… want to glare,” he mumbled.

I chuckled softly. “What a liar you are.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking everywhere but directly at me again. “I have to go now. Class is about to start and I… I can’t be late.”

“I’ll drop you home after.”

“No, that isn’t really necessary. I can take the bus like always. Please, Alexei—”

“I’m not asking,” I cut in and closed the distance between us. My hand slid to the back of his neck. I pulled him forward and kissed him. He made a startled sound against my mouth.

When I finally pulled back, his lips were swollen.

I brushed my thumb across his bottom lip once, tenderly.

Then I released him, turned toward the door, and left the classroom without looking back.

I turned the corner at the end of the hallway.

My phone vibrated in my pocket before I could take more than a few steps. I pulled it out without slowing down. Dimitri.

I answered on the second ring. “What.”

“We’ve got a situation,” my cousin said. I recognized that dangerous edge he got when violence was on the horizon. “Some low-level shitheads tried to move product through one of our warehouses last night. Ilya grabbed one of them. We need to handle the rest before they get any ideas. Meet us at the old slaughterhouse in twenty.”

I ended the call and headed straight for my car instead of back to class. I parked beside Dimitri’s car and stepped out, rolling my shoulders as I approached the crumbling entrance.

Dimitri and Ilya were already waiting. Ilya was practically bouncing on his heels like a kid on Christmas morning, his tools already laid out on a dirty workbench. Dimitri leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking impatient as always.

“I hope this time you won’t ditch again,” Dimitri said the moment I walked up, raising one dark eyebrow.

Ah yes. A while ago we were in the middle of something when I saw that post.

Marco tagged in some pathetic party photo with that girl pressing her lips right to his neck. That was the night I spanked him over the hood of my car until he was sobbing and leaking all over the metal. Priorities. I had more important things to handle, so I would gladly ditch them again if I had a choice.

I shrugged, slipping my hands into my pockets. “I heard you ditched too, didn’t you?”