Chapter 3 The Price of Refusal
587 Words
Sera’s POV
The second I step out of the lecture hall, I breathe like I’ve been underwater too long. My chest is tight, my palms sweaty, and my pulse is still a frantic drum from that stare-down with Dante Moretti.
God, what the hell was that?
One minute I was invisible, and the next, the mafia prince with storm-grey eyes decided I was his next project. Tutor him? Like I’d ever get close enough to touch that disaster waiting to happen.
I hug my backpack to my chest and weave through the crowded hallway. Valencia University always feels too polished, too sharp. The girls gliding by in heels, the guys tossing jokes and high fives, they all belong here. I don’t.
And now, because of one stupid exam grade, Dante Moretti noticed me.
I replay his words in my head. Everyone has a price, Sera.
He said my name like he owned it. Like he’d branded me with his voice alone.
No. Absolutely not. I’m not for sale. Not for him. Not for anyone.
“Hey, genius.”
The voice hits me from behind, smooth and taunting. My stomach drops.
I don’t have to turn to know it’s him.
I walk faster, but in two strides, Dante is beside me, his long legs matching mine effortlessly. He doesn’t touch me yet, but his presence is suffocating. His shadow swallows me whole.
“You’re fast,” he says, smirking. “But not faster than me.”
I glare at him. “What do you want, Moretti?”
He leans down, so close I feel his breath against my ear. “Tutoring. Your notes. Your brain. Whatever the hell got you that A.”
“No.”
His brows lift. “That’s it? No?”
“Yes. No. Never.” My voice shakes, but I keep walking.
He chuckles, low and dark. “You’ll change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“Wanna bet?”
I stop so suddenly that a guy behind me curses and bumps into my shoulder. I turn, fire in my chest I didn’t know I had. “Why me? You’ve got half the campus drooling over you. Pick one of them.”
Dante’s eyes narrow, and the playful smirk sharpens into something harder. “Because they’re not you. They don’t have what I need.”
My breath stutters. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t waver. His gaze pins me in place, heavy and unrelenting.
“I don’t care,” I snap, even though my pulse is betraying me. “Find another way to save your season.”
For a second, his jaw ticks, his temper flashing like a storm about to break. Then just as quickly he smiles. That dangerous, slow curl of lips that makes my knees want to buckle.
“You’ve got bite,” he says softly. “I like it.”
“I’m not your pet project.”
“No,” he agrees, stepping back just enough to let me breathe. “You’re my tutor.”
I grit my teeth. “Keep dreaming.”
He laughs, low and sure, like he knows something I don’t. “Dreaming’s not my thing, Sera. Taking is.”
The hallway empties around us. He finally peels away, heading toward the locker rooms with the lazy confidence of someone who’s never been denied. My whole body buzzes with adrenaline and fury.
I should feel safe now that he’s gone. But I don’t.
Because deep down, I know Dante Moretti doesn’t lose.
And he’s not done with me.
- Writer
