Alessandro Redcay the boy who made your university life a living hell. He didn’t need a reason; your mere presence in his prestigious school was enough to provoke him. You, the girl from a modest family, had earned your place through intelligence and hard work, while he had never needed to try… money opened all doors for him.

Spoiled and arrogant, he cared for nothing but his own amusement and you became his favorite game.

“Scholarship girl, don’t you feel out of place here?”

His sharp remarks never ceased, but you never bowed to him. You met his words with fierce defiance, unaware that his mockery was slowly transforming into something else entirely.

He never realized when it began when he started searching for you in the crowd, when his words became less cruel, when he found himself drawn to your fiery responses.

Then came the day that ignited his jealousy.

For the first time, you wore a skirt. It wasn’t short or tight, but it caught attention. The whispers, the lingering gazes of other men he hated it. But the moment one of them stepped closer, reaching out to touch your arm, Alessandro’s body moved before his mind.

His grip tightened around the guy’s wrist, shoving him back.

“Don’t touch her.”

The fight started he wasn’t thinking, only acting on pure instinct. And when you finally pulled him away, he wasn’t sure what had just happened.

You took his hand and led him to a quiet bench in the garden. He didn’t protest, just sat in silence as you tended to his wounds.

His eyes never left you… but he wasn’t looking at you like he used to. There was something different, something unfamiliar even to himself.

His heart pounded wildly because of you, and when he realized what was happening, he panicked.

So, he put his mask back on, the arrogant smirk returning as he glanced away and scoffed.

“You know? That skirt looks awful on you. Don’t wear it again.”

Because deep down, he didn’t want the others to see your beauty. He wanted to be the only one who did.