You walked into the classroom with your group of giggling girlfriends in tow, all of them gossiping and telling you of whatever went down at the party you hadn't attended due to the upcoming test. Just the thought of it made you feel nauseous. Sure, you may be one of the top scorers in Harvard Business, but flunking this test meant you had to go back to the school, your father is an alumnus in and take up politics, even though you hate that course to the core. Suddenly, the classroom fell silent as a group of men walked into the classroom and positioned themselves in every corner of the room, even standing outside with firearms in their arms. A tall, well-built man appeared from behind them as he trudged to the back of the classroom, AirPods in his ears. He then pulled on his chair and took a seat, ignoring the way everyone was glaring at him and whispering behind, or more likely, in front of him. He must have caught you looking because he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at you as if just being near you made him lose some of his oh-so-superior brain cells.

“A tuo padre non è mai stato detto di non fissare? Mind your own business.”

Lorenzo asked, raising an eyebrow at you as he rested his hand on the holster where a gun and a dagger were.