Page 12 of Vicious Games

I go completely still as his chair scrapes against the floor, the sound grating like nails on a chalkboard. His footsteps echo in my ears, just as loud as my pounding heartbeat.

Then I feel him behind me, his chest pressing against my back.

The asshole even smells decadent.

Before I can react and push him off me, Luciano grabs my hand, the one gripping the marker, and guides it across the whiteboard, finishing the equation as if it werenothing.

“See? The answer is two. It’s not rocket science,” he scoffs, turning to face the class as he wipes his hands together, lightly slapping them from front to back, signaling that he’s finished here.

Laughter erupts around the room, and suddenly, all I see is red.

Breathe, Frankie.

Breathe.

But it’s no use.

Before I even think about it, I tap Lucky on the shoulder, his attention on his adoring crowd.

He turns around to face me, still smirking like the cocky asshole he is—just in time to catch my fist right to his pretty-boy face.

His head snaps back, his eyes squinting as he takes a step away from me.

Satisfaction hums through my veins as blood begins to trickle down his nose.

There.

Now I can breathe.

Like he did before, I wipe my hands together, slapping them from front to back, signaling that I’m the one who’s done here.

Sister Margaretta’s scrutinizing gaze bounces between me and Lucky, who’s now holding an ice pack to his nose.

Neither of them looks thrilled to be here, but hey, it’s not likeI’mhaving fun, either.

After I sucker-punched Lucky in the middle of class, Sister Agnes ordered me to take him to the nurse’s office. Once he had been looked after, we headed straight to see Sister Margaretta, the headmistress and my mentor, in her office, as we had been instructed.

Now, Sister Agnes is recounting the whole disaster while I keep my head down, staring at my scuffed brown shoes.

Lucky’s shoes? Polished, sleek, and likely worth more than all my worldly possessions combined.

We are as different as two people can be.

“Are you sure Luciano didn’t provoke this?” Sister Margaretta asks, her voice even.

“Does being a dick count?” I mumble under my breath, only to gain a disapproving glower from both nuns.

“I didn’t do jack squat!” Lucky complains. “All I did was help her, and this is the thanks I get?”

Oh, boohoo.

Poor baby has aboo-boo.

I bite my tongue to keep from saying just that or rolling my eyes at him. Not for his sake but for Sister Margaretta’s. She wouldn’t appreciate such childish behavior on my part. Bad enough that she has to deal with the repercussions of my knee-jerk reaction.

“To be fair, Luciano, you did antagonize Frances a bit,” Sister Agnes interjects. But when she catches the twitch of a smile on Sister Margaretta’s lips, she quickly backpedals. “That said, violence is never the answer, Frances. Luciano may have been rude, but that didn’t warrant a punch.”

Damn it.

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