Dangerous gamble loving the mafia princess

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Bad boy I hate two things the most: social gatherings and Valentine Reed. Right now, I’m minding my own business, trying to do some last-minute reading as I walk through the halls of Oakwood High. My small frame feels even smaller as I angle my body to avoid bumping into people. “Watch it, bookworm!” a gruff voice snaps, just as a broad shoulder crashes into mine, nearly knocking my book from my hands. My cheeks burn as I clutch the book tighter, my gaze glued to the floor. “S-sorry,” I mumble. “Stop looking at the floor and apologize to my face,” the voice growls, and I glance up, meeting Valentine Reed’s dark brown eyes. “Sorry,” I repeat, a little firmer this time. Valentine smirks. “That’s better. Now scoot along, princess.” Arrogant little shi-. I quickly move away, heading to my locker. While putting my book away, I overhear a group of girls talking nearby. Their perfectly styled hair and designer clothes make me feel even more out of place in my thrift store sweater and ponytail. Yes, I know I’m rich and could easily buy clothes like theirs. But why would I want to stand out? That’s the last thing I need. “Did you see Valentine just now?” one of the girls squeals. “I swear he winked at me!” Ew. “As if,” another girl laughs. “He totally has eyes for Brittany.” I sneak a glance at them, feeling that familiar ache in my chest. What’s it like, I wonder, to have friends to gossip with? To feel like you belong? One of the girls—Emily, I think—catches me looking and raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Can I help you?” she asks, her voice dripping with disdain. My throat goes dry. “N-no, I was just…” Emily rolls her eyes, flipping her hair as she turns back to her friends. “Anyway, as I was saying…” Their laughter follows me as I fumble with my locker combination, willing myself to disappear. When I finally slip into class, I head straight to the back row, keeping my head down. I always sit here. It’s safer. No one asks questions. No one knows who I am—or who my father is. “Did you see Valentine’s new car?” a girl with bouncy curls gushes. “It’s so hot!” “Not as hot as he is,” her friend giggles. I roll my eyes. Why are they so obsessed with him? It’s like no other guy exists. “I wonder why she always sits alone,” someone whispers nearby. I feel my ears burn, knowing they’re talking about me now. I pretend not to hear them, keeping my eyes on my book. This is safer. Easier. No expectations, no disappointments. As the teacher drones on about algebra, I suddenly feel someone watching me. Glancing up, I catch Emma Chen, the class president, staring at me. Her expression is way too intense for my liking, and I squirm in my seat. What’s her deal? Before I can figure it out, Valentine Reed walks in, leather jacket and all. His eyes lock on me for a split second, and I immediately look away. “Mr. Reed, you’re late,” Mrs. Hawthorne says, glaring at him. Valentine flashes a cocky grin. “Sorry, Mrs. Hawthorne. Had to save a kitten stuck in a tree on my way here. Couldn’t ignore a damsel in distress, right?” The class bursts into laughter, and even Mrs. Hawthorne cracks a smile before sighing. “Just take your seat, Valentine.” I roll my eyes again, trying to ignore the way my skin prickles as Valentine passes by. His stupid cologne, his stupid jacket, his stupid smirk—why am I so aware of him? He takes the seat behind me, and I feel his presence like a weight pressing down on my thoughts. “Mrs. Hawthorne, can we go over the homework again?” Emma Chen asks, raising her hand. “Some of us had trouble with question five.” Valentine leans forward, his breath warm against my neck. “Hey, Blackwood. You free after school?” My heart skips a beat, but I keep my voice steady. “I’m busy, Valentine.” He leans closer, almost into my space. “Aw, come on, Blackwood. Don’t you ever take a break from being so… perfect?” I meet his gaze, my pulse racing but my face calm. “Some of us actually care about our futures.” His eyes narrow slightly. “You think you’re better than the rest of us, don’t you?” I gather my things and stand. “I don’t think anything, Valentine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to focus on the lesson.” For a second, his smirk falters, but then it’s back. “Sure thing, princess,” he says, leaning back in his chair. I sit down, heart pounding in my chest. I hate how easily he gets under my skin. Everything’s a game to him, and I refuse to be a part of it. I bury myself back in my notes, trying to focus on something that makes sense. Algebra makes sense. Valentine Reed doesn’t. The rest of the class goes by in a blur, but I can still feel Valentine behind me, his lazy posture and smug confidence invading my thoughts. When the bell finally rings, I quickly gather my things, ready to escape. Before I can leave, Valentine’s already standing, blocking my path. “Let me walk you to your next class, Blackwood,” he says with that infuriating grin. “Consider it my good deed for the day.” I sigh, my patience wearing thin. “I can manage on my own.” “Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he says smoothly. “But where’s the fun in that?” “Valentine,” I say, my voice low with warning. “Leave me alone.” For a split second, something dark flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can be sure. “Whatever you say, princess,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Catch you later.” Earth to Scarlet The last bell rings, and I can’t get out of class fast enough. It’s not that I hate school or anything. I actually like some of my classes. But right now, all I want is to be home, away from the noise, where I can hang out with my brother and my sister. I make my way to my locker, weaving through the crowded hallways. As I fumble with the combination lock, I feel it—this creeping awareness that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Valentine Randell. Of course, he’s here, swaggering down the hallway like he owns the place. My heart rate picks up as I sense him getting closer. I keep my eyes locked on my locker, silently begging him to just pass by and leave me alone. No such luck. Valentine stops right next to me, leaning casually against the lockers like he’s got all the time in the world. He crosses his arms over his chest, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he watches me with those piercing blue eyes. “What’s up, Scarlet the Timid?” he drawls, his voice low and teasing. My cheeks heat up, and I force myself to focus on the stupid lock. Just ignore him, I tell myself. He’ll get bored eventually. “What’s the rush, sweetheart? Got a hot date with your textbooks tonight?” His arrogance practically oozes out of him, filling the space between us. I finally manage to open my locker, my fingers trembling as I grab my books. Why does he always single me out? It’s like he can sense my discomfort and feeds off it. Valentine leans in closer, his breath brushing against my ear. “Hey, Scar. I’ve got a question for you. How come you’re always alone? Don’t you ever get tired of being such a loner?” I tighten my grip on my books, trying to steady my breathing. Don’t let him get to you. He’s just messing with you. “What’s the matter?” Valentine presses, his voice dripping with fake concern. “Cat got your tongue? Or do you just not know how to talk to people?” His words cut deeper than I expected, catching me off guard. I wasn’t ready for him to be this direct. My heart pounds, and all I want to do is escape. Without looking at him, I slam my locker shut and turn to leave, hoping he’ll let it go. But of course, he doesn’t. He easily keeps pace with me, his voice following me like a shadow. “Come on, Scar. Don’t be shy. I bet if you actually opened your mouth, you might surprise us all.” He waggles his eyebrows at me, his grin downright suggestive. “Maybe you’re hiding some secret talents behind those tight lips of yours?” My cheeks burn at the crude implication, and I quicken my steps, trying to outrun his words. “Or maybe,” he continues, sounding almost thoughtful, “you’re just too good for the rest of us? Little Miss Perfect, all alone in her own little world.” I can feel my frustration building, a knot tightening in my chest. Part of me wants to whirl around and tell him exactly where to shove his comments. But the other part, the part that’s kept me unnoticed and safe for so long, screams at me to stay quiet. Don’t make waves. Don’t draw attention. “Earth to Scarlet,” Valentine says, his voice grating on my nerves. “You in there? Or are you too busy daydreaming about your imaginary friends?” I bite my lip, torn between the instinct to blend in and the growing urge to stand up for myself. I’ve spent so long fading into the background, but if I don’t say something now, he’ll never stop. Without thinking, I spin around, my eyes blazing with a fire that even surprises me. “Enough,” I say, my voice steady, though my heart is racing. Valentine’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but I don’t give him a chance to speak. “I don’t know why you feel the need to constantly harass me, Valentine, but it ends now,” I continue, my tone calm but firm. “My silence doesn’t make me weak, and it definitely doesn’t give you the right to bully me. I choose to keep to myself, and that’s none of your business.” For a second, he looks genuinely shocked, his usual smirk gone. The hallway feels unnaturally quiet as if even the distant chatter of students has faded into the background. “Well, well,” Valentine finally says, though his voice lacks its usual confidence. “Look who finally grew a backbone.” I see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, and it feels strangely satisfying. I’ve caught him off guard, and he’s scrambling to regain control. He pushes himself off the lockers and takes a step closer, his expression darkening. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he snaps, his words dripping with venom. “One little outburst, and suddenly you’re not such a pushover anymore?” I stand my ground, refusing to back down. “What’s wrong, Valentine?” I ask, my voice steady despite the adrenaline rushing through me. “Can’t handle it when someone stands up to you?” His face twists with anger. “You think you’re better than everyone else, hiding behind your books and your silence. But deep down, you’re just scared. Scared of living. Scared of feeling something real.” Okay, maybe he’s not wrong. But that still doesn’t give him the right to talk to me like this. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fight to keep my composure. “You don’t know me,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. Valentine sneers, leaning in close enough that I can feel his breath. “Hit a nerve, did I? Face it, Scar. You’re nothing but a—” His words are cut off by a group of students rounding the corner, their laughter echoing through the hallway. My eyes dart to them, and I seize the opportunity to escape. “I… I have to go home. Just leave me alone,” I say quickly, pushing past him and heading for the exit as fast as I can. Valentine’s voice follows me, taunting. “Let’s pick this up again tomorrow, Scar.” I don’t look back. I push through the double doors and into the cool afternoon air, my heart still racing. I can’t believe I actually stood up to him. Sure, my voice wavered at the end, but at least I said something. It’s not much, but it’s a start. I take a deep breath and head toward the car waiting for me, relief washing over me as I finally make it home. Thank god.