Soulless Devil (Sons of Valentino #3)(4)
My steps quicken and my hand wraps around the bottle of mace in my bag. My dad insisted on me carrying it everywhere. The minute I step through the door of my building, I sigh in relief. I turn around and stare out into the darkness but I can’t see anyone. Walking up the three flights of stairs, because my step count is the only form of exercise my body gets, I finally arrive at my room. My hands shake a little as I pull my keys out and unlock the door.
Something really did spook me tonight. I’ve always been one to rely on my gut, and tonight I had that feeling of danger. Growing up with a police officer for a dad, my sister and I were well aware of all the horror stories; we heard them nightly. I’m sure my dad was trying to scare us into never putting ourselves in situations that could be threatening. Like walking alone at night. Or keeping a tight schedule that never changes. Which is exactly what I’ve been doing.
I might need to study in here for a little while. Change my routine up a bit. Argh, I love the library. It’s my happy place, so I decide I’m not giving that up. I’ll just leave earlier or find someone to walk home with. I think my imagination is overactive right now. I need to find a way to tune it out. Something to block the sound of my father’s voice screaming ‘I told you so’ over and over again in the back of my mind.
Ten minutes into watching some crappy reality show about southern belles on my laptop, Sandra bursts through the door. “You’re back? Did you find your mysterious coffee donor?” She waggles her eyebrows up and down.
“No, Margaret at the library just said it was a young man,” I tell her.
“I think you’ve gone and got yourself a little admirer, Livvy. I’m not surprised though. I mean, if I were into girls, I’d do you.” She shrugs.
“Ah, thanks?”
“You’re welcome. So, who have you met lately? Who could it be?”
“I have no idea. But don’t you think it’s a little creepy that whoever it was knew exactly what kind of coffee I drank?”
“It could have been a lucky guess. Or they’ve seen you order it?” she suggests.
“I also think I was followed on the way home tonight. I had that feeling of being watched.”
“You need to stop walking home so late by yourself. Call me next time and I’ll walk with you.” She lies flat on her bed on the opposite side of the room. She doesn’t have to cram into this tiny shared dorm room with me. She can afford an off-campus apartment but she insists on having as normal a college experience as she can. Apparently, that includes sleeping in a room the size of a tuna can.
I’m thankful that I got her as a roommate though. As far as friends go, Sandra is the best. I wasn’t overly popular in high school. I had friends, all of whom are still back home, either at the community college or working in jobs that they hate. My mind drifts to Kirk, my high school sweetheart. He was my best friend. Right up to the point I told him I was coming to New York for college, and he broke up with me. It took me three months to get over that heartbreak. I really thought we’d be together forever. I guess that’s young love; it’s not meant to last. I grew up watching my parents’ relationship. The love they have is one of a kind. And I’m holding out for that spark, that connection, now. I won’t waste my time on anything less.
My email notification pings on my laptop and I pause my show to open it. Like I said, I’m not that popular, so the only emails I get are from the students I tutor or my professors with class notifications. The subject line reads: In desperate need of a tutor.
Weird… I click the email open and read through the short message.
Hi Livvy,
I got your email from a friend of a friend, who claims you’re the best tutor on campus. I’m in desperate need of tutoring for my English Lit class. Can you help put me out of my misery? I’ll be eternally grateful if you could slot me in for a few sessions a week.
Yours,
Romeo Valentino
I read the name over and over again. If this guy is an English Lit major, he’s probably using an alias. I mean, who actually names their kid Romeo? But, for some reason, I smile. Before my eyes narrow in on the complimentary closing and I ask myself another question. Who the hell signs off an email with the word yours? He probably thinks he’s poetic or something. Romeo and Juliet has always been one of my favorite tales. Tragic love at its finest. So, without thinking, I find myself hitting reply.
Hi Romeo,
Thanks for reaching out. I can offer you a trial session to see if we work well together. How’s Tuesday at two p.m.?
Kind regards,
Livvy
His response comes minutes later. I don’t know why I’m getting butterflies in my stomach at the thought of reading it. This is not a normal reaction to an email. I’ve had emails from students enquiring about tutoring often enough to not get nervous over them. Yet, as I read his subject line—entitled extremely grateful—I can’t help the weird smile that appears across my face. I click open.
Dear Livvy,
Tuesday at two p.m. is perfect. Some would say it’s fate that I’m as free as a bird at that exact time. I look forward to meeting you then. Name the place and I’ll be there.
Yours,
Romeo Valentino