Credited To The Mafia Lord

WINTER

I rush to my room, and shutting the door behind me, I make sure to lock it. When I turn around, I take in the overturned furniture and the blood on the floor.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

What the hell happened last night?

I try to search my memory, but the last I remember was heading downstairs for dinner.

Damien said Vince drugged me, that he and Hugo attacked me. Damien intervened and took to me to his room?

I don’t remember any of it, and now I’m in his debt. God.

Waking up in Damien’s bed with his face so close to mine… the memory makes heat flood my body. When he climbed out of bed, and I got a look at his bare chest and the low-hanging sweatpants, I almost pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

No, Winter. Focus.

The more I try to make sense of what happened, the more my head begins to pound with a headache. It feels like I have the hangover from hell.

Walking to my bathroom, I open the faucets in the shower and brush my teeth while I let the water run. When I pull the t-

shirt over my head, I glance down at the bruises and hand imprints on my torso. Lifting my head, I stare at the cut on my bottom lip and the purple swelling under my left eye.

My body begins to tremble when I think of how close I came to being raped… killed.

Stripping out of my sweatpants and underwear, I step under the warm spray, and I let the drops pelt my skin to life. My legs shake from having to keep myself standing, and I place a hand against the tiled wall.

My stomach rolls and I quickly press my other hand to it as a wave of nausea hits.

God, I feel like shit.

Taking deep breaths, I wait for my stomach to settle, and then I wash every inch of my body. When I step out of the shower, I dry myself without looking at the bruises. On weak legs, I walk to the closet, and taking out clean clothes for training, I get dressed while anger simmers in my chest.

I’d love nothing more than to crawl into bed and to sleep the hangover away, but I can’t. I need to show Vince he didn’t get to me. I need to be stronger than ever right now.

After pulling a brush through my damp hair, I leave it to air dry as I take deep breaths in an attempt to steel myself for the day ahead. It’s not going to be easy, but I have to get through it with my head held high.

I ignore the mess in the living room, hoping the staff will have it cleaned before I return. As I leave my quarters, I glance up and down the hallway, my body on guard for a

sudden attack. I feel edgy as I make my way to the stairs, and I slowly descend them.

When I walk into the dining room, I don’t look at the other patrons but head to the table in the corner. I sit with my back to the wall, and when a waiter comes, I give him a wary look.

Can I trust anything I eat and drink here?

“Cranberry juice,” I mutter. “In a sealed bottle.” When he nods, I continue, “Bacon, two eggs, and toast.”

I need the greasy breakfast to help my stomach settle, or I’ll be puking at training.

Movement catches my eye, and my gaze snaps from the waiter to Adrian as he takes a seat at my table.

“I didn’t invite you to sit with me,” I say.

Ignoring my words, he places his own order, then his eyes meet mine. “I heard what happened last night. I thought you’d want to talk business.”

“Business?”

“Gun for hire,” he murmurs.

“You can’t kill Blanco while he’s on St. Monarch’s property, so I have no use for you.”

Adrian stares at me, long and hard, and then the corner of his mouth tips up. “For the right amount, I’m willing to take the risk.”

It feels as if his words carry a double meaning, and it makes my heart rate spike.

Would Adrian really kill on the grounds and risk being banned?

“Move,” Damien suddenly growls next to the table.

Both Adrian and my heads snap up. Adrian locks gazes with Damien, and after a couple of seconds, he gets up, muttering, “Playing the hero is damaging your reputation. Careful, Vetrov.”

I watch as the two men stare at each other, and then Adrian leaves. Damien takes the vacated chair and pins me with a dark glare that I feel penetrating through the feeble barrier I’ve manage to put up after last night.

After waking in his bed, it’s harder to ignore the fluttering in my stomach and the need tightening my abdomen whenever he’s near.

“Don’t get yourself killed before settling your debt with me.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “Are you going to remind me that I owe you every chance you get?”

“If you continue to place yourself in danger… yes,” he grumbles.

A frown begins to form on my forehead. “Give me an amount, and I’ll settle the debt, then you won’t have to worry.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, making him look predatory as his eyes darken. It causes a fluttering in my stomach, a mixture of nerves and attraction.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” he murmurs, his voice deep.

Luckily a server brings my order, and I get to keep myself busy with opening the bottle of juice.

“You had dinner with Adrian when you were drugged,” Damien breaks the silence, and then he rises to his feet. “That bit of information is free.”

I watch as he walks away, confused why he’d tell me that.

Information is power in our world. Still, he told me.

My eyes leave Damien’s broad back and snap to where Adrian is sitting. For the right price, he’s willing to break the rules of the academy. Is he on Vince’s payroll?

My gaze darts to another table where Hugo is seated. His nose is crooked, and half his face is swollen with bruises.

Damien did that. For me.

Only when I see the damage Damien did to Hugo’s face do I realize there are no bruises on Damien. Vince walks in, and he, too, looks like he ran face first into a wall.

As Vince takes a seat, his eyes meet mine. I let my mouth curve up in a sneer to show him I’m not rattled by what he did.

Bastard.

DAMIEN

Last night she took a beating, and she must have a hangover from the drug, but still, there she sits. I watch the daring smile curve around her lips as she faces off with Vince, and it makes the now familiar feeling stir in my chest.

Respect.

Winter Hemsley doesn’t cower before her enemies. She’s braver than most men I know. And it only makes me want her more.

Christ, I want to own that wild spirit of hers.

“I heard what happened,” Carson says as he takes a seat, a dark frown marring his forehead. “Why did you intervene?”

“She owes me now,” I mutter.

Carson’s eyes lock on mine. “I wasn’t aware you were conducting business on the grounds.”

“I’m not, but having the Hemsleys in my debt was worth

it.”

Carson nods, then he turns his gaze to Winter. “Did you at

least fuck her out of your system?”

No, I held her all fucking night like she was mine.

“Stop worrying about it. I won’t fuck up as your custodian,” I assure him.

Carson brings his eyes back to me. “You better not. The auction is tomorrow night at eight.”

What?

“When did you hear this?” I ask.

“If you weren’t so absorbed with the Blood Princess, you would’ve seen the invite. It’s probably in your quarters.”

I get up so fast it sends the chair toppling back, and without another word, I leave the dining room. When I shove my door open, I spot the black envelope. Picking it up, exhilaration begins to slither down my spine.

I open the envelope, and my eyes scan over the gold embroidered words. I have one hour left to RSVP. Walking to my bedroom, I pick up my phone and text the code provided to the number.

Instantly my phone beeps, and the message appears.

RESERVED.

It’s happening. I’m finally done with this place. In two days, I’ll leave with Carson, and we’ll join Demitri and Alexei.

Fucking finally.

Knowing everything I’ve worked so hard for is within my grasp, I leave my quarters and walk to the sparring studios. I have to be in my best shape for tomorrow night.

When I walk into the studio where most of the training equipment is held, Paulie grins at me. “You’re going to miss me.”

I shake my head. “Not a chance in hell.”

I strap on a pair of shin guards and the rest of my gear, then make my way over to a punching bag so I can warm up. I spend thirty minutes punching the shit out of the bag before I grab a jumping rope.

“Fuck off,” I hear Winter growl.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as she straps on her gear with Hugo standing over her.

“One last fight,” he grumbles.

Winter’s head snaps up, and her features are tight with anger. “I said fuck off, Lamos. I don’t waste my time on cowards.”

It looks like they’re a second away from tearing into each other when Grandmaster Yeoh walks into the studio. “Miss Hemsley, you’re with me.”

She gives Hugo a last dark glare before she shoves past him to join Grandmaster Yeoh.

I begin with my rope jumping session while watching Winter train. She doesn’t miss a beat even though she must feel like shit after last night.

Tearing my eyes away from her, I focus on my own training until my sweat soaks my clothes.

Tomorrow I’m done with this place. I’ll become Carson’s custodian.

He’ll get his first contract, and I’ll make sure he’s safe while he takes out the target.

I keep repeating the words as I move from doing situps to the weight bench.

After tomorrow Winter will no longer be a distraction.