Restore scroll position Wow, this place is beautiful.Part of me has always wished I’d gone to Knightsblood, like Roman and his friends. Not just because the centuries-old Tudor and Gothic campus nestled on a wooded cliff on the southern Connecticut shore is gorgeous—though it is.But also, I’ve often wondered what I missed by skipping the traditional college experience…if you can call a school where the heirs of mafia families prepare for their ascension to various thrones a “traditional college experience”.I mean, yes, part of any elite college experience is the connections you make. That’s the whole point of schools like Harvard or Princeton or Eton: not just the superior teaching staff and resources, but also the opportunity to rub elbows with other students of a similar status and background. Love it or hate it, the world really does revolve around who, not what, you know.Back when Knightsblood was founded, it wasn’t actually a school for the offspring of criminal dynasties. Initially, the idea was to create a “truly English” university in the United States for the heirs of lords, dukes, and other high-born families who were coming here from England. Those lords and dukes wanted a school for their kids that would match Oxford or Cambridge for prestige, with admission limited to those of aristocratic lineage.Obviously, things have changed since then. It’s still a fiercely selective school, but these days, it caters to the heirs of a different kind of aristocracy.Even so, the original school motto remains the same: “To the blood of king and crown, cross and knighthood.”Hence, Knightsblood.I could have gone here. I mean I literally applied, and got in. But university entrance age is also right around the time you start auditioning for companies if you’re an aspiring dancer. So I had to make a choice: Knightsblood or ballet.In the end, my love of dance won.Ironically, ballet is the main reason I’m on the Knightsblood campus today. A few months ago, Madame Kuzimina, the enigmatic and at times terrifying Artistic Director of the Zakharova, was contacted by the performing arts department here at Knightsblood. They wanted to elevate their dance program, and did Madame K have any dancers who might be interested in coming bi-weekly to teach professional level ballet to a few select students?Why yes, yes she did.Enter Evelina, stage left.Part of it was that I’d always had these lingering thoughts about “what might have been” if I’d come here. I definitely wouldn’t be a dancer, so it’s honestly not a decision I agonize over. But I also leapt at the opportunity when Madame Kuzmina asked me about it because lately, I’ve needed some space at home.From Roman.Don’t get me wrong: I love my brother more than anything in the world. But things…changed between us after what happened with our dad.For one, a few months ago, Roman moved back to the main house. I’d never left home when I stayed in New York to dance for the Zakharova. Why would I? It’s a gorgeous, enormous mansion, and besides, it’s not like I needed privacy to party or bring boys home.I mean, come on.Dad also traveled a lot for both business and pleasure, so I frequently had the house to myself, too.But then Dad was sent to Russia, and Roman moved back in.With Val.Now, again, do not get me wrong. I love them both dearly. And on paper, living in a huge, glamorous house with my big brother and his incredible boyfriend who also happens to be one of my besties is a dream scenario.And it is. On paper.Most of the time.But sometimes, I just need a break. And the gorgeous Knightsblood campus an hour away is the perfect escape.So that’s the main reason I’m here. Today in particular, though, there’s a second reason.“Evelina!”I turn at the sound of Andrés’ voice and grin when I see him waving at me as he steps out of the main admin building. His tailored gray suit complements his tanned, mediterranean features perfectly and fits his athletic frame like a glove as he jogs over to me across the quad.“Just the beautiful lady I was looking for!”I feel a flush creep up my neck and cheeks as his gorgeous dark eyes sparkle, and that lyrical Spanish accent washes over me.“Andrés! Hi!”A heated shiver whisks up my spine as he smiles and takes my hand, then brings the back of it to his lips.Oh my. Remember the part where I said I could feel desire?Aside from being model-level attractive and dizzyingly charming, Andrés Torvallés is also the crown prince of the Torvallés family, an old-school mafia family based in Barcelona that goes back literally centuries. He’s probably in his early thirties, maybe late twenties—older than me enough that it feels mysterious and maybe a little sexy without being creepy.He also sits on the board of directors here at Knightsblood, which is how we started chatting a couple of weeks ago.Okay, full disclosure, I might have purposefully sought him out, and not because he looks like a Gucci model.It’s been three weeks since my disastrous attempt to sneak into the private party at Club Venom and pitch my request for help to Vaughn.Three weeks since he told me to run away and never look back.And I haven’t, for the most part. In my day-to-day life, I haven’t remotely considered trying to get close to him again.My dreams, however, are a different story.“I have to say, your text last night piqued my interest.” Andrés flashes a dazzling white smile at me and winks again.Okay, I’ll admit, it sends butterflies fluttering through my stomach.My dating history is a virtual blank slate. It’s just…never taken priority. I suppose part of it is the way I was raised: Pavel Nikitin’s perfect, poised, princess of daughter, kept in a glass cage up on a golden pedestal. Throw in a hugely overprotective tattooed giant of a big brother, not to mention all the hours ballet demands of you, and dating or sex just never had a prominent place in my life.It’s not that I’ve never dated or had zero experience. I mean, I’m twenty-three. It’s just that my experience has been…limited.Severely.I’ve had all of one past relationship: Ethan, and we went on a handful of dates four years ago.Nothing really happened. I mean, he was nice and sweet enough, and he understood that I wanted to go slow. But after a few weeks of me not sleeping with him, it just seemed to fizzle out.Shocker.“So.” Andrés winks at me again. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”You know the saying: If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.I need to try, try again.Just because Vaughn shot me down in terrifying fashion, it doesn’t mean anything has changed for my dad in Moscow. He can’t always talk on the phone, because he’s sure both the government and a bunch of high-powered bratva families are tapping his communications, but I can tell the situation’s not good.Roman, obviously, isn’t going to do anything about that. And now Vaughn has also made his thoughts on the subject abundantly clear.But again, Andrés isn’t just a pretty face. He’s the heir apparent to one of the most powerful underworld families on the planet. So tonight, I’m meeting with him to plead my case.Before I can respond, Andrés grins as he glances down, his eyes sweeping over me. “You look positively gorgeous tonight, I might add.”Heat floods my face.I’m not blind. I see the way men look at me. I mean, not like they look at Milena with her runway model legs, or Brooklyn with her artsy, cool-girl vibe. But guys do look at me.Including Andrés.So, yes, although I’m meeting him tonight after my class to ask his family to take my father under protection, it doesn’t mean I haven’t…dressed for the male gaze, at least a little.Instead of my usual post-dance hoodie and yoga pants, I’m in a cute pink skirt, pink flats, and a lighter white-pink mohair sweater.What? I like pink.A lot.My hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, my makeup on point. I even used the extra smoky eyeshadow that Milena got me.It’s not like I’m trying to seduce Andrés—if I even knew how. But since this is a business meeting of sorts, the goal was to look my best.Andrés seems to have noticed.“Thank you,” I stammer awkwardly, blushing like a goofball as I smile at him.“Of course.” He smiles back before his brow furrows. “Would you like to talk here, or…?”I swallow. “Maybe somewhere more private,” I venture. “It’s…sensitive.”He nods, his brow still pinched with concern. “Of course. Come. I’m parked over here. I’ll drive us somewhere we can talk without prying ears.”Relief floods through me. “Thank you, Andrés.”“Not at all.”He walks me over to a nearby parking lot and opens the passenger door to a stunning mint-green vintage Porsche 911 with a luxurious, saddle-brown leather interior.“Oh my God, I love your car!” I gush.Andrés chuckles as he slides into the driver’s seat. “Gracias. It was my birthday present to myself last year. Fully rebuilt, 1973.” He glances at me as the engine roars to life. “Are you into cars?”I shake my head awkwardly. “Not really. I just like pretty things,” I laugh.“As do I.” Andrés winks at me again, and my pulse skips as he pulls out of the parking lot.It’s dark as we drive through the beautiful campus, headlights washing over the Tudor-style student housing, Gothic academic buildings, and the towering spire of the cathedral that was built on the grounds here in the late 1600s, before the school was even founded.“So, tell me what’s on your mind, Evelina,” Andrés purrs in his beautiful voice as the guards wave us through the front gates.I exhale slowly, biting my lower lip and rubbing my thumb against my index and middle finger. “It’s my dad, actually.”He nods. “Sí, I’m aware of your father’s…situation.” He arches a brow as he glances at me. “And his difficulties with, among others, your brother. Families can be complicated, no?”I puff out a mirthless laugh. “Tell me about it.”Andrés pulls off the main road, and we start to drive up to the peak of Griswold Hill, which sits above the Knightsblood campus and the nearby town of Hawthorne Hollow.“I think I’m beginning to realize what you wanted to talk to me about,” Andrés says as we drive up the winding, wooded road to the top of the hill.“I understand that it’s no small thing for a family such as yours to involve itself in something like this,” I say hesitantly. “But it’s getting bad. My father has a lot of enemies out there, and I understand that he isn’t a good man, I really do. But⁠—”“He’s still your father.” Andrés pulls to a stop in the little parking lot next to the clearing at the top of Griswold Hill and switches off the engine. “Believe me, I understand.” He sighs, a small smile on his face as he turns to me in the darkness.Below us, Knightsblood sits perched like a dark jewel on the cliff above Connecticut Sound. The coastal town of Hawthorne Hollow twinkles with lights down closer to the shore.“You’re right, it would be no small thing for my family to become entangled in this business.”I nod quietly. “I know. And I’m very thankful that we’re even having this conversation.”He turns to me and flashes another winning smile. “Of course.”“Now, if your family were to take my father under their protection⁠—”Andrés laughs quietly. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves, Evelina.”Shoot.“Sorry,” I blurt. “It’s just…my father doesn’t really have the luxury of time⁠—”“To start with…” Andrés unbuckles his seat belt and clears his throat. “Why don’t you show me.”My brows knit. “Show you…what?”“How thankful you are that we are having this conversation.”Suddenly, the car feels smaller. The air feels thicker and more cloying. My seat belt feels constricting. And that charming smile no longer looks so charming.It looks…predatory.“Andrés—”“I’m a man of business, Evelina.”An icy coldness stabs into me when his hand suddenly lands on my thigh, right at the hem of my skirt.“Wait. Andrés⁠—”“And in our world, yours and mine, there are many things that are….” He chuckles quietly. “Transactional.”“I think I’d like to go back to⁠—”“And I’d like you to stop being such a little cocktease and spread your legs.”A choked sound claws its way into my throat as he shoves his hand under my skirt, pushing it up my inner thigh.“Andrés!” I blurt, grabbing his wrist and trying to shove his hand away. But he’s much stronger, and his cold fingers dig into my thigh, unyielding.“This is how it will work, Evelina,” he murmurs. “My family will shield your father. But only if you stop being so coy with me.”When I see him start to open his belt with his other hand, my soul leaves my body.“No, Andrés, wait, please⁠—”“Are you going to be a good girl for me, Evelina?”His hand slides further up my trembling thigh as horror floods my system.“Andrés, stop. STOP! STOP IT! STOP⁠—!”It all happens incredibly quickly. One second, I’m frozen in my seat feeling like I’m literally going to throw up as Andrés’ hand creeps toward my underwear. The next moment, the driver side door is suddenly yanked open, and Andrés is forcibly ripped from the car.All I can see is the dark shape of a man, snarling and growling as he knocks Andrés to the ground next to the Porsche. Andrés is swearing in Spanish, and my eyes go wide when I see him wrestle a knife from inside his jacket.The second man roars as Andrés’ blade slashes his upper arm. But then the knife is knocked aside, and the two men fight with their bare hands, roaring and twisting on the ground.With a scream, I’m fumbling and yanking at my seat belt, throwing the passenger door open and bolting from the car. I hear a roar of pain from behind me, and more swearing and thrashing. But I don’t look back as I run in a blind panic into the woods surrounding the little clearing.My heart pounds like a drum against my ribs. Blood roars in my ears, mingling with the ragged sound of my breathing as I crash through the underbrush. Branches and leaves tangle in my hair, like clawed hands trying to slow me down.Then suddenly, someone actually does grab me.I scream a strangled cry of pure fear as the hand gets my ponytail in a fist and yanks, hard. My scalp explodes in pain as I’m tugged clean off my feet and land on my back in the dry leaves.Pure survival instinct bursts inside me. I kick and scream and claw, fighting like a mad thing with the dark shape looming over me. I manage to catch him someplace soft with my heel, and he grunts and doubles over, giving me just enough time to scramble to my feet and turn to bolt.Not happening.A strong hand, wet, wraps like iron around my neck from behind. My scream withers and dies in my throat as the man wrenches me around and slams me up against the rough hardness of a tree. His fingers tighten as his chiseled face suddenly looms down into mine.My heart stops beating and the world goes quite still. The moonlight glints through the jagged branches, illuminating the horror-show sight of the man…the man I know…his bleeding arm, his bloody hand wrapped around my throat, his icy blue eyes piercing into my very soul as his body presses hard to mine.“My my… What have you gotten yourself into this time, Evelina,” Vaughn growls. Share to your friends Dance of Monsters: Chapter 4 Tip: You can use left, right keyboard keys to browse between chapters.Tap the middle of the screen to reveal Reading Options. 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