Eva Carmichael clears her throat next to Natalya as if she’s uncomfortable by her friend’s extensive knowledge of a deadly poison. It’s clear my friend’s wife is not cut out for the world of the mafia. It’s difficult to believe that Oak fell for a student, let alone married one.
Unfortunately, I think that’s only added more fuel to the fire where Camilla is concerned, as I glance over at her and find she’s staring at me with fuck me eyes.
I grit my teeth and move my attention elsewhere. “Right, I want all of you to read chapter thirteen and then write a short three hundred word essay on which poison you would choose if you needed to take out an enemy quickly but quietly without being detected.”
There’s a murmured grumble as the students get to work reading the chapter. Sitting down behind my desk, I loosen my tie, which feels too damn tight. The room feels hot even though I know it’s a normal temperature. It’s the girl at the front of the room that’s making me feel that way.
I focus on the pile of sophomore essays in front of me on the heart and its functions to the body, picking up the one on the top of the pile. Teaching can be such mundane work and yet it helps me quieten that sadistic urge that follows me every step I take in life. The discipline and structure of working in a school gave me a way of controlling those urges and an outlet as the resident SA punisher.
Oak saved me from myself when he offered me this job, as I was on the edge of no return, spiraling toward a dangerous future, one that could have landed me in prison or worse. I was an enforcer for the Sidorov Bratva on the other side of the border in Toronto, emigrating at fourteen years old from Russia, but the violence and lack of rules made it hard to control my thirst for blood.
I killed one of the higher-ranking members in an argument and had to flee. The sudden upheaval in my life set me off on a spree that I am not proud of. That’s when Oak and I met, and he offered me a job and protection from the men I fucked over and from myself.
“I’m finished, sir,” Natalya says, placing the essay onto the desk. As always, she finishes first every damn time.
“Thank you. You may leave.”
She nods and walks away, leaving the rest of the class still slaving over their essays. Natalya Gurin has always been the smartest kid in class ever since she arrived here. It’s refreshing to have a female student that is so dedicated to her studies.
Slowly, the rest of the class turn in their essays and leave early. I don’t see the point in forcing students to stick around if their work is complete. When I glance up and see Lila Estrada handing in her essay, my stomach dips. There’s five minutes left until the bell goes, and now Camilla is the only student left.
“Thank you, Miss Estrada.”
She smiles and nods, walking out of the room.
My heart thunders erratically beneath my ribcage as I stare at Camilla, who is still writing somewhat leisurely, considering she’s the last in here.
Deep down, I know she made sure she took the longest, so we’d be alone together. Something that’s happening far too often lately to be a coincidence. Desire swirls to life in my gut as I watch her, wishing I wasn’t so taken by my student. It’s an everyday struggle made worse by the fact I know deep down she’s a natural masochist, even if she doesn’t understand it yet. What I’d do to have the opportunity to teach her and open her eyes to a world of pleasure and pain.
I clench my fist beneath the desk as I count down the seconds to the bell. My cock semi-hard and straining against the zipper of my pants. This day has already been fucking challenging enough without Camilla Morrone giving me blue balls.
The chime of the bell sounds and her stunning brown eyes lift from the paper as she clicks the lid on her pen. They meet mine and the fire in them is enough to burn down the entire fucking building.
“Finished, Miss Morrone?” I ask, unable to stop my voice from sound strained.
She smiles, and it’s the most beautiful smile that I’ve ever seen. Beauty is subjective and I don’t normally find it in such mundane things like smiles or appearance. Normally, I see beauty in chaos and pain, and yet Camilla is beautiful to me all the damn time. “Yes, sir.”
I grind my teeth together as I watch her stand and walk toward the desk. She always calls mesir,whereas most of the students call me professor. And when she does it, there’s something suggestive, almost sexual.
Or perhaps it’s because I’ve lost my head ever since that night at the bar. I need to rein it in and squash any hopes she has that this can turn into anything other than a strictly professional student and professor relationship.
3
CAMILLA
My heart skips a beat as he snatches the essay from my hand violently. “Thank you, Miss Morrone.” He doesn’t meet my gaze. “Now get to your next class.”
I swallow hard, feeling disappointed. Ever since the night at the bar before winter formal, he’s been short with me and barely meets my gaze. “Yes, sir.”
And yet I can’t stop fantasizing about him. It’s as if he plagues my every waking moment and sleeping. There’s barely a dream I’ve had that doesn’t feature him.
His jaw clenches just before I turn around and walk out of the classroom. Perhaps my disappointment is because ever since I found out Eva married Principal Byrne over winter break, I’ve had hope that maybe there’s a chance for my crush on Nitkin to turn into something else.
If she can end up with a professor, then why can’t I?
I know it’s crazy, because Professor Nitkin is nothing like Principal Byrne. He’s tormented and mean, and he loves punishing people. When I said it, almost jokingly to my friends, they all thought I was fucking crazy, and maybe I am. After all, Gavril Nitkin isn’t like any other man I’ve ever met. His eyes are cold and calculating and he delights in inflicting pain.
Not to mention my family would never allow me to be with a professor from the academy. I’m destined to be married off to a mafia heir who will increase the family’s power and standing.