Dangerous Games

Sienna POV

Monday morning felt like walking into a lion's den.

I slipped into Professor Martinez's classroom five minutes late, hoping to avoid attention. Fat chance. Every head turned as I made my way to my usual seat in the middle row, including the one I'd been dreading to see.

Lucian sat in his spot three rows back, looking like he belonged in a boardroom instead of Introduction to Investigative Journalism. His green eyes tracked my movement with the intensity of a predator watching prey. When our gazes met, the corner of his mouth lifted in what might have been a smile. Or a threat.

I forced myself to look away and focus on Professor Martinez, who was already deep into her lecture about source verification. The burner phone felt like a brick in my bag, a constant reminder of the devil's bargain I'd made.

"Miss Carter."

I jerked upright. "Yes, Professor?"

"Since you've decided to rejoin us, perhaps you'd like to share your progress on the Ricci assignment?"

My mouth went dry. "I'm still gathering information."

"Gathering information," she repeated flatly. "It's been a week. What exactly have you gathered?"

Heat crept up my neck. Behind me, I could feel Lucian's attention like a physical weight. "I've identified several leads that need follow-up."

"Such as?"

I scrambled for something to say that wasn't a complete lie. "Possible connections to organized crime. The victim may have been involved with—"

"Bullshit."

The voice came from my left. Pedro Vega lounged in his seat like he owned the place, dark hair perfectly styled, expensive watch catching the fluorescent light. His family owned half the restaurants in the city, and he never let anyone forget it.

"Excuse me, Mr. Vega?" Professor Martinez's eyebrows shot up.

Pedro shrugged, not taking his eyes off me. "Tommy Ricci was small-time. Petty theft, maybe some gambling debts. But organized crime? Come on." He leaned forward, fixing me with a look that made my skin crawl. "Unless our little reporter here knows something the rest of us don't?"

"I never said he was connected to organized crime," I said carefully. "I said it was a possibility worth exploring."

"Everything's a possibility when you don't know what you're doing." Pedro's smile was all teeth. "Maybe you need someone with actual connections to show you how real investigation works."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. I didn't need to turn around to know that Lucian had gone very, very still.

"That's generous of you, Mr. Vega," Professor Martinez said dryly. "But Miss Carter is perfectly capable of handling her own assignment."

"Is she?" Pedro stood up, walking over to perch on the edge of my desk. Too close. Invasive. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like she's drowning."

"I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth.

"Are you?" His hand moved to rest on my notebook, fingers brushing against mine. "You look stressed, Siena. Tired. Like you haven't been sleeping."

He wasn't wrong. I'd barely slept since the pier, jumping at every sound, checking locks obsessively. But I sure as hell wasn't going to admit that to him.

"Maybe you need someone to take care of you," Pedro continued, his voice dropping lower. "Someone who knows how this city really works."

"I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" His thumb traced over my knuckles, and I yanked my hand away. "You're out of your league here, sweetheart. Playing with stories that could get you hurt."

The endearment made my stomach turn. "Don't call me that."

"What should I call you?" He leaned closer, and I could smell his cologne. Cheap. Cloying. Nothing like—

I cut that thought off before it could finish.

"You should call her nothing at all."

Lucian's voice was quiet, conversational, but it cut through the classroom chatter like a blade. Pedro straightened, turning to face him with a cocky grin.

"Romano. I didn't realize you were interested in journalism."

"I'm interested in a lot of things." Lucian rose from his seat with fluid grace, every movement controlled and deliberate. "Including people who don't know when to mind their own business."

The two men stared at each other across the classroom, and I felt like I was watching two predators size each other up. The rest of the students had gone quiet, sensing the tension even if they didn't understand it.

"Gentlemen," Professor Martinez said sharply. "Perhaps we could focus on the lesson?"

Pedro laughed, but it sounded forced. "Of course, Professor. I was just offering to help a fellow student." He looked back at me, and there was something ugly in his expression now. "The offer stands, Siena. When you realize you're in over your head."

He sauntered back to his seat, but not before shooting Lucian a look that promised trouble.

The rest of class passed in a blur. I couldn't concentrate on anything except the weight of Lucian's stare and the sick feeling in my stomach that I'd somehow become the center of a pissing contest between two very dangerous men.

When Professor Martinez finally dismissed us, I bolted for the door. I made it halfway down the hall before a hand closed around my wrist.

"Not so fast."

Pedro spun me around, backing me against the wall. Students flowed around us like water, nobody wanting to get involved.

"Let go of me."

"We need to talk." His grip tightened. "You embarrassed me back there."

"You embarrassed yourself."

His eyes flashed. "You think you're better than me? You think your little scholarship makes you special?"

"I think you're a bully and a creep, and I want you to leave me alone."

"That's not going to happen." He pressed closer, pinning me against the wall with his body. "You see, I know things about you, Siena. I know you're failing three classes. I know you work at that pathetic cafe. I know you can barely afford ramen."

My heart pounded. "So?"

"So maybe you should be nicer to people who could help you. People with connections. With money." His hand moved to cup my face, thumb brushing over my cheek in a mockery of tenderness. "I could take care of you. Make your problems disappear."

"The only problem I have right now is you."

"Funny." His grip on my face tightened. "Because I think your biggest problem is that pride of yours. Someone should teach you some humility."

"Someone should teach you the meaning of the word no."

Pedro's face darkened. "You little bitch—"

"Is there a problem here?"

Lucian appeared beside us like a shadow given form. Pedro's hand dropped from my face as if I'd burned him.

"No problem," Pedro said, but his voice was strained. "Just having a conversation."

"Looked like harassment to me." Lucian's tone was conversational, but there was something lethal underneath it. "I'd hate for Miss Carter to file a complaint. These things can get so messy."

"She wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?" I found my voice, surprising myself with how steady it sounded. "Sexual harassment is a serious charge, Pedro. Especially when there are witnesses."

Pedro looked around, realizing that several students had stopped to watch the show. His face flushed red.

"This isn't over," he said quietly.

"Yes, it is." Lucian stepped between us, and suddenly Pedro looked very small next to him. "Touch her again, and we'll have a different kind of conversation. The private kind."

Pedro tried to stare him down for about three seconds before his nerve broke. He stalked away, shoving past a group of freshmen.

I sagged against the wall, adrenaline making my knees weak.

"You okay?" Lucian asked.

"Fine." I pushed off the wall, trying to regain my composure. "I had it handled."

"I'm sure you did." There was something like amusement in his voice. "But Pedro Vega doesn't respond well to rejection. His ego bruises easily."

"And you would know this how?"

"I make it my business to know things about people who might become problems."

"Is he? A problem?"

Lucian's expression went cold. "He is now."

The way he said it made my blood chill. "What does that mean?"

"It means you need to be more careful. Pedro's family has ties to the Torrinos. If he's sniffing around you..."

"You think he knows about the assignment?"

"I think Pedro Vega doesn't do anything without an ulterior motive." His hand brushed against my arm, the touch brief but possessive. "Stay away from him, Siena. And if he approaches you again, call me immediately."

"I can handle—"

"No." His fingers wrapped around my wrist, not painful but firm. "You're mine to protect now. That means when I tell you to stay away from someone, you listen."

The possessiveness in his voice should have made me angry. Instead, it sent heat spiraling through my chest.

"I'm not yours," I said, but the words sounded weak even to me.

"Aren't you?" He stepped closer, backing me against the wall just like Pedro had, but somehow it felt completely different. Safe instead of threatening. "You took my phone. You agreed to my terms. What would you call that?"

"A business arrangement."

"Is that what we're calling it?" His thumb traced over my pulse point, and I knew he could feel how fast my heart was beating. "Because it feels like something else entirely."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. Not the burner phone. My regular one. I glanced at the screen and felt the blood drain from my face.

It was a photo. Me and Lucian in the hallway, his hand on my wrist, standing close enough to look intimate.

The message underneath made my world tilt:

*Interesting friends you're making, Siena. Maybe it's time we had that talk after all. — P*

"What is it?" Lucian's voice was sharp.

I showed him the phone, watching his expression go from curious to murderous in the space of a heartbeat.

"Son of a bitch."

"He was watching us," I whispered. "The whole time, he was watching."

"This changes things." Lucian pulled out his own phone, fingers flying over the screen. "We need to move faster than I planned."

"Move on what?"

"Getting you inside the Torrino operation." He looked up at me, and there was something like regret in his eyes. "Because whether you like it or not, you're about to become the most important piece on the board. And everyone's going to want to capture you.”