HEATHER'S POV
I sat in the car, the silence a heavy blanket suffocating me. Three stone-faced bodyguards surrounded me, their displeasure a tangible force. Magnus, his jaw clenched and face a mask of disapproval, wouldn't even look at me. The car felt more like a prison cell than a vehicle.
Nervously, I swallowed hard and pulled off my beanie. "I'm sorry I ditched you guys. Please don't tell my parents," I pleaded, my voice thick with regret. No response. "Magnus, I said I'm sorry. Can you forgive me already? You guys are scaring the crap out of me."
Magnus finally turned, his expression still devoid of emotion. "I'm listening, Miss, but do you have any idea who you were with?" His voice, laced with a familiar concern, echoed my parents' tiresome "it's for your own good" speeches.
I scowled and crossed my arms. "It's not necessary, Magnus. He's Drake, my best friend. He would never hurt me."
Uriel stifled a laugh, earning a sharp glare from Magnus.
"You're too naive and trusting," Gabriel chimed in, his voice almost sympathetic. "That friend of yours is the leader of the Sigit Mafia, the biggest gang in the city, and he's Lancaster's cousin."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I looked away, my mind reeling. "I know you feel like you can trust him and have a normal friendship," Gabriel continued, "but the Sigits are dangerous, and you don't want to get involved."
My fists clenched at my sides. I looked back at Magnus, a defiant fire igniting in my chest. "So what if he's a Mafia gang leader and Lancaster's cousin? He's my only true friend, and he understands me," I retorted, the sharp edge in my voice startling them. "He's my friend, and you will not talk badly about him."
Magnus sighed, massaging his temples. "Look, Heather, I don't have time for this. You're not going to risk your life and my job just to have fun by trusting a criminal."
My eyes widened at his words, and for a split second, I saw a flicker of guilt cross his face. "What's wrong with being in the Mafia? You're a mercenary. You've killed people," I challenged.
"Bad criminals," Uriel corrected sharply but not unkindly. "There's a difference, Miss. We kill bad people. He hurts innocent people."
"Oh, really? If I were in danger right now and someone had a gun to my head, you would kill them to keep me safe, right?" My heart hammered in my chest.
"We would, of course. It's our job to ensure your safety," they answered in unison. A wicked smile touched my lips. I had them.
"Then that makes you criminals, too. You have no right to judge my friend for protecting me," I declared, pulling my beanie back on.
Magnus gently took my hand, his palm covering mine in a reassuring gesture. "Heather, there's a difference. It's our job to protect you, no matter the cost. But your friend... I just don't trust him because I know who he is and the kind of danger that surrounds him." I scowled, yanking my hand away.
I met his eyes, searching them intently. "Then do your job as my bodyguard, not as a spy for my parents." I turned to the window, watching the trees blur past.
Upon reaching the school, I was dropped off far from the main gates. My hair, now loose and falling over my face, felt like a messy disguise.
Stepping into the building, I hoped to bump into Drake to apologize for our earlier confrontation, but he was nowhere to be seen. A sigh of relief escaped me as I walked on, my head down. It wasn't that I was sad, but seeing Drake brought on a rush of conflicting emotions—joy, chills, and an unexplained sense of hatred, as if we had a history. The more he helped me, the more that hatred seemed to melt away into something new.
Lost in thought, I walked into my class like a zombie, paying no attention to the professor. My mind was fixated on apologizing to Drake; I truly wanted to see him again. The class ended with my notepad covered in mindless scribbles. I followed the crowd of students out and immediately spotted MJ, the senior from the other day. He looked even worse now. His usually smooth features were bruised, his skin scraped, and his nose was slightly crooked. It was clear he'd been in a fight, and it hadn't gone well for him.
I tried to walk away, hoping to avoid him after the foul comments he'd made about me being "Drake's bitch." The audacity was unbelievable.
"Hey, Heather!" he called from behind me. A mix of cold fury and fire coursed through my veins. I stopped and turned with a dramatic flair.
"What is your problem?" I asked, my voice laced with annoyance. "Speak up, I don't have all day."
He nervously scratched his hair. His nose was plastered with a bandage at the bridge, and I couldn't help but wonder if Drake had been the one to do this.
"I'm sorry, Heather, for the unpleasant things I said earlier, but could you please forgive me?" he apologized, his voice low and almost genuine, but I wasn't going to let it slide.
I scoffed. "It's easy for you to ask for forgiveness when you're not the one being called someone's bitch." I retorted, folding my arms. He chuckled.
He gave a small bow, licking his lips in a way that irritated me. "I was wrong to call you a bitch," he admitted politely. "It won't happen again. And as for the bonfire party, don't bother coming. I don't want your man pouncing on me with a silverback's energy."
I almost laughed at his comment. He thought I was stupid enough to go to his party? The thought had crossed my mind, but it was unappealing. Comparing Drake to a silverback, though, was an understatement—it was comical.
"I won't be attending such an unappealing party," I declared, grabbing the strap of my backpack. "My parents would skin me alive if they found out. And for the record, those parties aren't for the likes of me, and I don't trust you to be my guide."
I stormed off, leaving him stunned. My fury transferred from my three bulky bodyguards, who had made my adventure a mess, directly to him. I walked two miles from the university before getting into the car with my bodyguard. We rode home in silence, but my thoughts were still with Drake. I hoped he would come tonight.
The car stopped in front of the house, and Marcus opened my door. I walked hastily into the living room, where our head maid, Carol, greeted me warmly. I smiled and waved back, making my way upstairs. As I placed my foot on the first stair, Kyle came up behind me and lifted me into the air.
"Could you please put me down, Kyle? I'm exhausted," I said, tugging at his hand, but he held me tight, carrying me like a mannequin into the dining room. The table was filled with all my favorite dishes, from sardines to pumpkin soup. My mouth watered.
"What is this, Kyle?" I asked, feigning disbelief and a lack of interest.
Jules came up from behind me and patted my head, pressing my shoulders down until I was seated. "These are your favorite dishes, sweetheart. We made them just for you. Kyle even cut his hand while making this dish."
I smiled, seeing the bandage on Kyle's finger. He had done a fantastic job, but I wasn't going to be swindled. I frowned and turned my head away, pretending not to be interested, even though my mouth was watering.
Jules sighed, his hands reaching for my chin. "Pumpkin, don't be like this," he pleaded. "Just eat, or we'll have to call your parents and let them know you skipped your meal."
I frowned, my hand tightening around my fork. I didn't want my parents coming home; I still wanted my freedom. I exhaled sharply, my fork digging into the food. "Fine, I'm eating," I said defiantly, stuffing a mouthful in.
The delicious sauce melted in my mouth. I didn't know Kyle or Jules could cook, but their fiancées must have taught them well.
After I finished eating, I left the dining table without a word and went straight to my room, gently closing the door behind me. I flopped onto my bed, face-first, and almost immediately, my phone vibrated. I shot up, grabbing it, my heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and dread. The caller ID showed it was my parents. My smile evaporated, replaced by a hollow feeling that settled deep in my chest. Sadness, I realized, was the only word for it.
I looked around my room, taking a moment to smooth a stray strand of hair from my face before answering the video call.
"Hi, princess," my mom's voice chimed, her face beaming with a warm, loving expression.
"Hi, Mom," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral, but I could feel the irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.
The suspicion in her eyes was instant. "What's wrong, honey? You don't sound excited to see me." She paused, her smile faltering. "Did you miss us already?"
I mentally rolled my eyes. Missing them was the last thing on my mind. In fact, I wished they would stay in Spain forever. The only person I missed—the one whose absence ached in my heart—was Drake. But I wasn't about to tell her that.
"I'm fine, Mom. Just tired from all the lectures," I lied, hating how easily she could read me. "Where's Dad? I don't see him." I tried to change the subject, hoping to distract her.
Her frown softened, and the tension in her shoulders eased. "Oh, he's busy. He's getting ready for the business meeting and conference we're having soon."
I pictured my father surrounded by a mountain of paperwork, just like the time I'd walked into his study without knocking.
My mom and I talked for what felt like an eternity, the conversation dragging on and on. It was then that I realized I didn't like how talkative my mom was, especially now.