Her Mafian Professor

Chapter 2~Not successful

Tiffany’s POV

I shut the door to my apartment and leaned against it, closing my eyes for a moment. The document was secured and in my bag, and my mission was completed. But the weight of last night lingered like an anchor dragging me down.

What the hell had I done, sleeping with a f*cking stranger?

I should’ve been relieved. My uncle would have what he wanted, and I could go back to pretending none of this had happened. But all I could think about was the man I’d left behind in that penthouse. Tarzo Salvatore.

“Stupid,” I muttered to myself, pushing away the memory of his warm smile and how he’d made me laugh. It wasn’t real. None of it was. It was a job, a necessary evil that I had to go the extra mile for.

Okay, maybe sleeping with him was a bit much, but how else would I have gotten the documents?

I dropped the bag on the counter, pulled out the document, and stared at it for a moment before shoving it into a folder. Grabbing my phone, I texted my uncle: “It’s done. When do you want it?”

The reply came almost instantly. “Villa. Now.”

I rolled my eyes at him. f*cking ass-hole couldn't even say thank you.

I quickly took a shower and put on something less provocative – jeans and T-shirt, before leaving my apartment.

The drive back to the villa felt longer than usual, and my thoughts spiraled. I knew better than to let my emotions interfere with work, but this time was different. I wasn’t proud of what I’d done. I felt sick, sick to my stomach.

When I walked into my uncle’s study, he was sitting behind his desk as usual, his expression unreadable. I tossed the folder onto the desk without a word.

He opened it, skimmed the contents, and nodded. “Good work, Tif,”

I crossed my arms. “Don’t thank me. I hated every second of it.”

He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his wrinkled lips. “You did what needed to be done. That’s what matters.”

“No,” I said firmly, my voice rising. I agreed with this once, but it’s not happening again. If you want me on missions, stick to what I’m good at—assassinations. I’m not your seductress, and I never will be.”

His smirk faded, and his eyes hardened. “Careful, Tiffany. " You’re not in a position to dictate terms,” he said. He always did this. Whenever I had a valid point, he shut me down with this statement that pissed me the f*ck off.

I clenched my fists, biting back the words I wanted to say. Instead, I turned around as I made my way to the door.

“Have a great day,” he said behind me. I paused and glared at him before pushing the door open and walking out, my heels clicking behind me.

Back at my apartment, I took another long shower, hoping to wash away the guilt and shame clinging to my skin. When I emerged, my best friend, Laurel, was lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine.

“You look like hell,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Thanks,” I muttered, plopping down beside her.

Laurel leaned closer, her tone more curious now. “So, what’s eating you?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, avoiding her gaze.

“Liar,” she teased, poking at my side. “Come on, spill, you can’t keep secrets from me, Tif.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “It’s work. Let’s leave it at that.”

Laurel pouted but didn’t press further. Instead, she brightened. “Oh! I have some good news. Guess who’s starting school with you tomorrow?”

I blinked at her. “Wait… you got into my school?”

She grinned. “Yep! Your best friend will be right by your side. I even arranged our schedules so we could take some classes together.”

For the first time that day, I smiled. Laurel’s carefree attitude was literally a soothing balm to my nerves. “You better not embarrass me,” I joked.

She gasped dramatically. “Me? Embarrass you? Never!”

The next morning, we arrived on campus, and Laurel chatted excitedly about all the things she wanted to do. I was glad of her energy. It distracted me from my nerves about starting another year and, more importantly, forgetting about Tarzo.

“I wonder how many of our professors are hot. I hope I find the women hot too.”

Laurel was bisexual, or was it pan-s****l, and she was chronically into older men, which I never understood, but she always had a crush on someone who was too old for her.

“What about your classmates? Don't you wonder if they are hot too?”

“The nineteen-year-olds?” She asked, making a disgusted face.

“Yes, other nineteen-year-olds like you.”

“You know me, Tif. I don't give a f*ck about those kids. I want a mature man or woman,’

“Maybe you should seek professional help,” I chuckled, placing my backpack properly on my back.

“Our whole family would have to do that.”

Our first class was an elective, something light to ease into the semester. The lecture hall buzzed with energy as students filed in, greeting old friends and settling into their seats.

“Bet he’s hot,” Laurel whispered, nodding toward the front of the room where the professor was setting up.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

When the professor turned around, my heart stopped.

No.

It couldn’t be.

But there he was, standing at the podium with the same dark eyes and sharp features I’d seen just two nights ago. Tarzo De Salvatore.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said, his voice just as deep and commanding as I remembered. I’m Professor De Salvatore. Welcome to Introductory History.”

I couldn’t breathe. My hands gripped the edge of the desk, my knuckles white.

Laurel leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “He is hot. Lucky us, huh?”

I didn’t respond. My heart raced, and my mind screamed at me to run. But I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place, staring at the man I had seduced, stolen from, and left without a word.

As his gaze swept the room, his eyes landed on me, and lingered way too long.”

His expression didn’t change, but I saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes. My stomach twisted into knots.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

“s**t!!”

The mission might not have been as successful as I thought.