Mated to the Mafioso

[ 2 ] - Blackmailed by a Teenager

[ A N D R E A ]

I think I'm going to explode.

"Good job, Charlie. That's the correct answer." I say, forcing a thin smile. I lean closer to my laptop, the kid's face on the screen. He's texting and picking his nose. Gross.

I look behind the laptop, at the line of patrons waiting for their drinks and late-afternoon snacks. A woman's complaining, fanning her face. "It was my favorite restaurant! Yes! The pasta? Ugh. Yum." she sighs. "Can you believe it? Stupid wolves! They keep ruining everything! Next thing I know, this place's gonna blow up too."

The barista, a college student named Oreya, gives the woman a soft glare, brows furrowing. Oreya mouths something about jinxing it, spinning around, locs swinging with every move. She goes off to make the grumpy woman's obnoxiously long order. Another barista uses the blender, ice churning to slush.

An older man who's seated at a table beside me, sweating through his business clothes, is three large coffees down. He has the news blasting on his phone. "Has New York City gone to the dogs? Deputy Matthew Smith is on with us tonight to talk about rising rates of organized crime with regards to paranormal groups—and what the NYPD is doing to combat these attacks. In specific, from packs of werewolves. Deputy, take it away—"

There's too much noise. I suck in a breath and stand, grabbing the laptop and coffee cup, to get an outside table. I look down at Charlie...who's now studying his finger. And the blob on it.

Lovely.

New York City's surprisingly cold for late October. Overcast skies oscillating between rain and snow. Gray slush is collected at the side of the street. The wind howls through the buildings. It's mostly empty outside; a few people walk past. When I look up, I see Luci's Coffee on a rustic wooden sign that's swinging in the wind, creaking. But it's mostly quiet otherwise. I find a table that's mostly dry, umbrella shading the space, and sit down, taking a swig of my drink. Black coffee. No creamer, no sugar. Bitter and hot and good.

I deserve this, I think. Then again, I deserve a lot more.

Especially after being in a weird, all-too-vivid dream where I'm butt-naked, sleeping-slash-floating in a weird cloud...with a stranger who I've never seen before. Not a celebrity crush, a familiar face—just a man.

And then the world tried to make me a wolf, then a woman, and—

It shattered in a very not-dreamlike-way.

I should've asked a witch to investigate it, see if there was any residue on me—maybe it was a curse, or some latent spell, or something—but I was working, doing some prep for today and Charlie. And consulting a witch would cost too much.

So I just...tried to forget it. And work. As usual.

But the image of the man, the feeling of his warm skin against my cheek—

No. Focus. I snap myself awake, straightening a little.

"How about the next question?" I ask Charlie.

"I dunno." He sucks at his finger. I shudder. "Uh, A?"

Wrong. Every answer, aside from the one before the last, has been wrong so far.

"...have you been guessing the answers the entire time?"

Charlie just shrugs; he's still texting on his phone.

I swallow, unsure what to do. It's the third session with him and he's given me...nothing. No engagement. He's a sophomore in high school, failing out—his dad's some big-wig lawyer in the city. Old money. Hence how he's able to continue while failing out.