Chapter six: sinful-looking dress

Chapter 6

The streets were quiet, nothing but the hum of my engine and the flicker of half-dead lamps throwing long shadows. Past midnight—the kind of hour when the city feels hollow.

She curled into the corner of the backseat, almost smashing her cheek flat against the window like it might open up and let her slip out. Arms folded so tight it looked painful. Her hands wouldn’t quit fidgeting—small shakes running through her fingers every time the streetlights flashed across them.

Norah.

The name looped in my head like a song I didn’t ask for. I shouldn’t give a damn. But I did. Her lips quivered, lashes still damp, trying to hide the cracks. Trying to shrink herself small. 

I can’t leave her there… not with those lustful boys circling like wolves. Damn it, why did she wear that kind of sinful-looking dress?” His jaw flexed. “But then again… it wasn’t the dress. It was her. The way she carried herself—innocent, stubborn, unaware of the danger she walks into. She doesn’t even know she’s driving men insane.

Mary leaned in, whispering something to calm her. I kept my eyes on the road, jaw tight. My fists still itched from breaking that bastard’s face. Should’ve done more than leave him limping.

The ride ended in silence, heavy as smoke. I cut the engine and stepped out, leaning on the car as I lit a cigarette. She hesitated before speaking.

“I’m Norah. And this is Mary, my roommate.”

Hearing it from her own lips—Norah—stuck harder than it should have. I held onto it too long.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, my tone flat, though inside something twisted sharp.

“Thanks for the ride,” she added quickly, like she wanted the moment over.

They walked away. I stayed. Watched her disappear into the doors, my chest burning with something I didn’t want to name.

Stay away from her, Ivan. She’s not yours. She doesn’t belong in your world.

And yet… it was like fate had shoved her right into the mess, no warning, no way out.

~~

The weekend crawled by in a fog, hours lost before she even noticed. Then Monday hit—loud, sharp, relentless. Norah dragged herself through lectures, not catching half the words. By the last bell, she hugged her books close like a shield and slid into the quieter wing by the library, where footsteps didn’t echo so loud and nobody cared enough to stare.

Bad choice.

Rose was waiting.

She stood there with her two painted-up shadows, smirks sharp as knives. Her eyes locked on Norah, bright with fury.

Before Norah could move, Rose shoved her against the wall. Books scattered across the floor. The slam rattled her chest.

“You listen to me, slut,” Rose hissed, jabbing her finger into Norah’s collarbone. “If I ever catch you near Ivan again, I’ll make your life hell. Walking around in cheap dresses, throwing yourself at men—pathetic.”

“I’m not—” Norah started, but Rose cut her off with a snarl.

“Save it. I know your type. Sneaky. Desperate. Trash.”

Her pulse hammered. Her back pressed to the cold wall. For a second, her voice just… died.

Then—

“What’s your problem?!”

Mary.

Her voice cracked through the hallway like thunder. Heads turned. She stormed forward, planting herself between them, her shoulders squared like a shield.

“Why are you picking on her again?” Mary demanded. “Everyone knows Ivan isn’t your man. He hooked up with you, then dropped you. You’re just pissed he hasn’t looked your way since.”

A ripple ran through the small crowd gathering nearby. Phones rose, recording. Whispers buzzed.

“You think shoving people makes you tough?” Mary’s voice went colder, sharper. “It doesn’t. You just look desperate. And everyone can see it.”

Rose’s mouth opened, then shut. She caught the looks around her—wide-eyed, whispering, some barely hiding their laughter. Her face flared crimson, blotchy and hot with fury. “I—” she sputtered, but nothing came out that could save her. She snapped her head away, heels striking sharp as she fled, her two shadows stumbling after her.

For a heartbeat the hallway stayed heavy, everyone holding their breath. Then the whispers broke loose, low and quick, racing from mouth to mouth like dry grass catching flame.

Mary crouched down, gathering Norah’s fallen books. “You okay?” she asked, softer now.

Norah bent too, her hands still shaking as she picked up a notebook. “Yeah,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Mary said firmly when Norah tried. “People like her feed on fear. Don’t give her what she wants.”

For the first time that day, Norah let out a real breath.

By lunch, the eyes still tracked her, whispers sliding behind her back—but not sharp this time. Curious. Measuring. Waiting.

Norah pushed her food around, finally stabbing at it. “I don’t understand,” she muttered. “Why does she hate me? I haven’t done anything to her.”

Mary leaned across the table, grin tugging one corner of her mouth higher. “Ay, querida…” She shook her head slowly. “You really can’t see it, can you?”

“See what?” Norah frowned.

Mary leaned closer, her Spanish accent thicker as she teased. “Ivan. El chico malo. The brooding, dangerous one. He looked at you, Norah. He saved you. For Rose, that’s like—you stole her crown without even trying.”

Norah flushed. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t even want his attention.”

Mary chuckled, poking her with her fork. “Maybe not. But attention like his? It doesn’t ask permission. It just… finds you.”

Norah hid her face with her hand, but the small smile gave her away.

Mary laughed. “Dios mío, you’re blushing! Don’t tell me our sweet, innocent Norah is falling for the bad boy.”

“I’m not!” Norah protested, voice too high.

“Mm-hm. Sure.” Mary’s grin widened. “Just wait. One night he’ll be outside your window—not with flowers, nah, that’s too soft for him. More likely a scowl, maybe that jacket he wears like a second skin “…and when it happens, don’t worry. I’ll be right there, reminding you I said so first.”

Norah groaned, hiding her face with one hand. But the laugh broke free anyway, small and shaky. For the first time all day, the knot in her stomach eased.

“That’s better,” Mary said, satisfied. “Best friend, roommate… and professional teaser. That’s me.”

~~

Across campus, in a dim office, Ivan leaned back in his chair, cigar smoke curling in the air. His mind wasn’t on business. It was on her.

Norah.

“Why is she still in my head?” he muttered, crushing the cigar into the ashtray with more force than needed.

Jay and Liam exchanged a glance from the couch where they counted bills.

“You’ve been quiet all night, boss,” Jay said carefully. “What’s eating you?”

Ivan didn’t answer right away. He poured a glass of whiskey, the amber catching the light as he swirled it. His jaw flexed.

“That kid from the party,” he said finally. “The one who put his hands on her.”

Jay frowned. “The blond one? You already beat the crap out of him. You want me to finish it?”

Ivan’s eyes went dark. “He touched her like she was his to take. Like she was easy.” The thought made his blood boil.

“I want him here,” Ivan said, downing the whiskey in one swallow. “Alive. I’ll decide what happens to him.”

Silence fell. Liam adjusted his glasses, speaking low. “This isn’t business anymore, Ivan. You’re letting her get in your head.”

Ivan’s glare cut sharp. “Watch yourself.”

Liam didn’t back down. “Then admit it. You don’t drag some kid off the street for nothing. This is personal.”

Ivan leaned back, a bitter smile ghosting his lips. “Personal? Maybe. But I can’t let it slide. Not with her. Not when everything in me screams to protect her—even from herself.”

He set the glass down hard. “Bring him to me.”

Jay smirked, already standing. “Say less, boss.”

As they moved to carry out the order, Ivan stayed in the shadows, staring into the empty glass.

“Who the hell are you, Norah? And why does it feel like the universe dropped you into my world?”