Cruel Summer: A College Bully Romance (Verona Academy Book 1)

by Melinda Terranova

  As I’m lead away, I stupidly glance back at the man, he has moved on to the next painting.

  “Don’t stray from the group,” Rob huffs and catches up to the front of our group.

  “What the fuck was that about?” Jake asks.

  “I have no idea. People are weird.” I shrug.

  After lunch, we set off in groups to explore the city and find landmarks that are listed on our handouts from earlier in the day, like a scavenger hunt of sorts. The group who finds all the landmarks and takes a photo as evidence gets a prize. My mind wanders to Enzo as we pass a group of young Italian men, all dressed impeccably. I grab out my phone and take a selfie with the fountain in the background and send it to him, knowing very well he won’t reply.

  “Some of us are going out to hit the town tonight. You in?” Jake asks, his eyes lighting up.

  “I don’t know. I don’t do too well with alcohol.”

  “We both won’t drink. I’ll make sure you only have soft drinks all night.” He places his hands in his pocket and rocks back on his heels.

  “Okay.”

  “Excellent. I’ll drop past your room so we can walk together. Apparently the place isn’t too far from where we are all staying.”

  “I’m not staying out late though. The walking tour of all the buildings is tomorrow, I can’t say I’ll be able to keep up with hardly any sleep.”

  “I’ll have you home by midnight. Deal?”

  “Deal.” I smile at him and his eagerness to do anything but what we came here for.

  After finding all the landmarks, our group heads back to our rooms to get ready for a fun night. The other student I’m sharing the room with decides she’s going to stay in. I wish I hadn’t said I’d go out, I’m exhausted and would love nothing more than to put on my pajamas and slide into bed.

  Jake knocks on the door and lets himself in. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” I yawn. He chuckles at me, grabs my bag and holds the door open.

  We stroll along the lively streets, Rome comes alive at night, there are people everywhere. Jake checks the address on his phone as we round a corner.

  “This is it, apparently?” Jake looks up and down the street. The door in front of us is huge and forest green.

  “Do we just go in?” I look at him, confused.

  He steps forward and pushes on the door, it opens with a creak, allowing the dull thud of music to escape. He looks back at me and nods, a toothy grin appearing on his face. I follow him in and we ride up the elevator to the top floor, the sign next to the button indicating the club is here. The doors open to a dark club, with flashing strobe lights. Very old school.

  “Let’s find the others.” Jake indicates with his hand for me to follow him. We skirt the dancefloor toward the seating area and find a group of the other students already enjoying drinks and finger food. We chat and dance and I don’t drink a drop of alcohol, Jake keeps up his end of the bargain, ensuring we stay sober and well hydrated.

  The night wears on and some students leave while other’s stay and drink themselves stupid. I shake my head at the thought of how they will feel in the morning, walking for miles in the hot sun.

  “Want to head back?” Jake nudges my arm.

  “I do.” I stand and wait for him to follow. We wave to the others before exiting down the lift.

  “Shit.” Jake pats his pants pockets. “I’ve left my wallet upstairs.”

  “I’ll wait here.” I lean against the cold stone wall.

  “I’ll be two minutes.” He dashes back inside.

  I take out my phone and itch to text Enzo. Instead I text Amber and tell her I miss her. I’m interrupted by someone walking past, he stops and studies me. My heart drops to the pit of my stomach, it’s the man from the museum.

  “Summer?” My name rings in my ears.

  “Who are you?” I swallow as fear and anxiety rip through me.

  “Your worst fucking nightmare.” He sneers before his fist connects with my face.

  My head smashes against the stone wall and it is the last thing I remember.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Summer

  Swallowing is proving to be difficult, my mouth is as dry as the Sahara Desert. I try to open my eyes, only the left one will obey, the lashes on the right one are glued together from my own blood, no doubt. I sit up and the pain in my head rips through me like a lightning bolt. I dangle my legs over the edge of the bed and stand, my legs shake like Jell-O, and look around the unfamiliar room. An opulent red velvet daybed sits at the end of the room, and a small table with three gold chairs sits at the other end. The feature wall is covered in an expensive red and gold wallpaper and across the room is two large windows with velvet curtains. I take in a staggering breath as the reality unfolding in front of me overwhelms me and I collapse onto the floor, a sob escaping my lips. I curl into the fetal position and allow my tears to fall freely, down my cheeks and onto the dark carpet until I fall asleep once more.

  “Get up.” A large hand pulls me up by the arm.

  I open my eyes as I am lifted to stand, I sag in defeat and do as I’m told.

  “Eat.” The Italian man waves a bowl of pasta under my nose. He leads me to the table in the room and shoves me into the chair. I stare at the bowl of nausea inducing pasta he places in front of me.

  I watch as he opens the curtains, revealing a bright blue sky and glimpses of the Colosseum. A cigarette hangs from his mouth. He’s dressed in black suit pants and a black button up shirt. He looks young and strong, his muscled arms bulging against the confines of his shirt.

  “Why am I here?” I shrivel into the chair as his dark glare lands on me.

  He hesitates by the window before opening it. “My dear girl, don’t ask questions, it’s safer that way.” His thick Italian accent fills the room.

  I study his hands, they’re tanned and smooth. Not ones that look as though they could inflict pain. I might be safe with him. Well, safer than the prick that knocked me out.

  “Eat.” He points to the pasta and opens the window to let some fresh air in.

  “Where’s Jake?” I eye him with caution.

  “Who?” He doesn’t look at me, keeping his eyes to the street below.

  “My friend, he was at the club with me. I’m here with a group of students,” I explain, hoping Jake is okay. “You didn’t hurt him?”

  The man takes a long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke out the window. He turns to me, void of emotion. “No one is getting hurt.”

  I want to laugh at his comment, the hysteria obviously getting the better of me. I’m hurt, you fucker. Your henchman punched me in the face. I don’t say a word though, I sit and stare at the pasta, trying to curb my fear. My father always drilled it into me to keep my cool and do as I am told. Fear only clouds your judgement, he would say. I remember him holding me by the shoulders and telling me that keeping my whits was most important, and taking in all the small details. The small details are important. Well, daddy dearest, where the fuck are you now?

  “Please, dear girl, eat your meal.” He chucks his cigarette out the window before striding towards me.

  I flinch as he reaches the table, my heart nearly exploding from my chest.

  “I’m not going to harm you.” He shakes his head.

  I stare up at him, at his dark and brooding eyes and wonder what the fuck went wrong in is life for him to do this to another human being. It hits me, this is what Enzo must do, and so much worse. I shudder at the thought of the things he has inflicted on others.

  “Eat.” He pushes the bowl towards me.

  I grab the fork in my shaking hand and stare at it, willing it to move to the pasta. The fork drops from my weak grip and clatters to the floor.

  “I will give you some privacy. There is fresh towels in the bathroom and don’t even think about launching yourself out the window, we are eight storeys up.” He turns on his heels and exits. I hear a loud and final click as he locks the door from the outside.

>   I bolt to the open window, what should be a memorable and spectacular view of the Colosseum is marred by the shitty situation. I crumble and slide to the floor where my tears, once again, lull me to sleep.

  I’m woken by muffled voices outside the door. I slowly sit up and lean against the wall under the window, the chilly breeze brushes over my goose bumped skin. I wrap my arms around my knees, trying to hold what’s left of my shattered self together. The lock clicks and my heart jumps.

  In strides a gorgeous man in an expensive suit, tailored to broad shoulders. His raven hair slicked back to perfection, his steely gaze hardening when it lands on me. His chiselled jaw looks like it’s made of marble and his black eyes shine with excitement. “Ciao, bella.”

  I freeze, barely daring to breathe. For a second I think this man is here to save me. But I am wrong. His handsome face is terrifying, dark shadows evident under his piercing eyes and the dangerous edges around his features always on display.

  “What happened to you?” He points at my face.

  I reach my hand up and touch my swollen eye, still crusted over from dried blood.

  “Damiano,” the man barks, his voice laced with authority.

  “Si,” Damiano strolls in and I scramble to get as far away from him as possible. His eyes meet mine and a cruel and knowing smirk appears on his smug face.

  The fucker who punched me.

  “You did this?” The man in the sharp suit points to me again, his eyes narrowing.

  “Yes, sir.” Damiano swallows, clearly regretting his actions.

  “Did I not tell you to bring her here, unharmed?”

  Damiano takes a step back. “Si.”

  “Then why the fuck is her face smashed up?” The man in the suit growls. He takes a menacing step towards Damiano.

  “I don’t know?” Damiano cowers.

  The man in the suit back hands Damiano across the face. The force is so hard, the loud crack echoes around the room, making me jump.

  “Get the fuck out of my face before I do something we both regret,” the man in the suit growls.

  I watch Damiano scurry out of the room, holding his face.

  “Now, where were we?” Suit smiles at me, as though he didn’t just make his henchman shit in his pants.

  I stare at him in fear. I truly believe this man is here to end my life.

  “Come join me at the table.” He seats himself in one of the chairs and eyes my uneaten pasta.

  I stand up with shaky legs and slowly make my way over to him, sitting in the chair farthest from him.

  “Why do you think you are here?” He taps his fingers on the table.

  I study his face for any distinguishing features, I only see a cruel and callous man staring back at me, his patience wearing thin. “I don’t know?” I shrug.

  “You don’t know,” he repeats. “Well, let me get straight to the point. You, my dear, are what we in the mob world like to call collateral.”

  I watch him carefully.

  “You are most important to a certain someone we need to get even with, which means we are using you to lure them. Do you follow?” He places his elbows on the table and leans forward.

  I sit and stew over his words. “I understand.”

  “You needn’t worry, we will not harm you. You are simply being kept here until they decide to show their cowardly face.”

  “Who are you talking about?” I ask, a little confused. I don’t know how far my dad has entangled himself in the underworld, but even I know he couldn’t have gone this far.

  “You will have to wait and see.” He smiles, his devious plan obviously pleasing him. “Until then, please enjoy my hospitality. Is there anything you need?” He stands.

  “No.” I stare at him, bewildered.

  He strides to the door and exits without looking back.

  My anxiety peaks while the hours tick by, the sun setting behind the buildings in the distance as I pace from one end of the small apartment to the other. Every now and then I stand gazing out the window, at the tourists strolling past the building, none the wiser to what is going on up here. I can’t help but think no one knows I’m here, no one but Jake knows I’m missing. What can sweet, innocent Jake do to save me from these monsters.

  Exhaustion creeps its way under my skin, like a burrowing parasite. I lock the bathroom door and climb into the shower to ease the aches in my tense muscles. The warmth of the water soothes my swollen eye and slowly dissipates the anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I dry myself off and examine my face in the mirror, the purple bruising spreads down my cheek and across my nose. My swollen eye, now cleared of all the dried blood, is blood shot and hurts like a bitch. I dress in my clothes, which are stained in blood, and run my fingers through my hair. I feel half human as I emerge from the bathroom. It is late evening and I notice a take away pizza box sitting on the table. I eye it with caution, the thought of someone coming into the apartment while I was showering, doesn’t sit well.

  I sit and take a slice of pepperoni pizza from the box , my saliva pools in my mouth as I chew the first mouthful. I’m interrupted by a jostling of keys at the door, I stand abruptly, a tingle of fear dances down my spine. I scoot against the wall, my back rigid, waiting for the person to enter.

  The door opens and Damiano stands on the threshold, an evil grin plastered on his face. He places his hands in his pockets, but doesn’t move from the doorway. “I see you like the pizza I brought you.” He smirks.

  My gut twists. He was in the apartment when I was naked and in the shower. “What do you want?” My voice is small and he knows I’m terrified.

  “Nothing.” He saunters in and closes the door behind him.

  I swallow the fear bubbling up my throat. I watch him as he makes his way to the table and casually opens the pizza box and grabs himself a slice, like this is a social visit between two friends. “Pizza is good in this country.” He nods.

  I stand against the wall with my slice of pizza still in my hands and don’t dare take my eyes off him. My heart thumps in my chest and I need to remind myself to breathe. “Why are you here?” I grip the curtain in my fist, holding on in fear.

  He saunters towards me, stopping a few feet away and I notice the mark left by the man in the expensive suit. He stands, eyeing me, chewing his mouthful of pizza. He lifts his hand and I flinch, this does not go unnoticed by him and he smirks in amusement. His thumb brushes against the corner of his mouth and he wipes away pizza sauce. He swallows his bite before he speaks. “It’s my turn to babysit.”

  Fucking great.

  “Relax, sweetheart. I’ve been ordered to keep my hands to myself.” He casually walks to the window next to me and takes in the view.

  I step away from him and scurry to the table, placing my pizza back in the box. As hungry as I am, I’ve lost my appetite. I sit in the chair closest to the door, not boxing myself in with no escape route. Another little tip my dad told me. Where is he when I need him?

  Damiano turns to look at me. His eyes rake over my legs and back up to meet my glare. “Do you mind if I turn the television on?” He walks to the bed and grabs the remote, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

  I watch him as he flicks through channels, finally settling on some car racing. “Shouldn’t you wait outside, like the others?”

  “No,” he answers without taking his eyes off the screen.

  I know it’s not a good idea but I decide to retreat into the bathroom, I can’t be in the same room as him. I stand and scoot around the table towards the bathroom, he doesn’t even acknowledge that I have moved. My heart races as I shut the door behind me, I collapse onto the toilet lid and allow my tears to fall. I cannot break now, I need to stay strong, to keep my wits about me. If what the man in the expensive suit said is true, that they mean no harm to me, then I might be safe after all. I slink to the floor and decide to bide my time by counting the tiles, there are exactly two hundred and seventy-six tiles in the whole bathroom.

  I hear a door slam a
nd I jump up in fright. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the swelling in my eye has gone down but the bruising is more of a deep purple now. I listen for any inkling of noise from the apartment, there is nothing but silence. I unlock the door and carefully open it to see if the prick has left. I cannot see him or hear him, I open the door wider and take a tentative step forward, my eyes scanning the room.

  “Looking for me?” His voice purrs danger.

  I yelp in fright. “Holy fuck.” My hand goes straight to my chest as I turn to face him. The bastard was waiting next to the door.

  He steps forward, his eyes half hooded, and herds me into the wall. “Did I scare you?” He tilts his head sideways.

  I swallow the bile rising up my throat and stare into his eyes, pleading with him to leave me alone.

  His eyes light up as he surveys my face and licks his lips before he speaks. “Boo hoo.” He pouts. He lifts his hand to touch my chin and at the same time I flinch back, hitting my head on the wall.

  “Shit.” Tears pool in my eyes, the lump from when this bastard smashed my head into the brick wall, is still tender.

  This doesn’t stop him, he grabs my chin between his fingers and pulls my face up to meet his. I don’t dare move, I feel as though the world has stopped and only I am spinning out of control.

  “Are you still sore?” He leans in, placing his free hand on the wall next to my head.

  I feel the tears slowly building as I try to hold myself together, my fear getting the better of me.

  “Let me soothe it.” He takes his hand from my chin and runs it along my jawline and up behind my ear. I freeze under his touch, holding my breath, waiting for him to stop his taunting. His hand slides up behind my neck and his fingers find the lump at the back of my skull, his feather light touch sends warnings to my core. I watch him as he explores the back of my head and, without warning, he digs his fingers against my skull, an evil grin plastered on his face.

  I cry out in pain and jerk forward into him as he slams his body against mine and presses me into the wall once more. My tears fall down my cheeks and I cannot contain the sobs escaping my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping he disappears. I hear him chuckle, pleased with himself.