Mafia Daddy (Villain Daddies Book 8) by Celia Crown

Author:Celia Crown [Crown, Celia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-09T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Daisy

February is not the season for me.

After coming back from Rio, I never thought I hated winter more than the moment I stepped out of Daddy’s private plane.

We spent the rest of the day under the covers, cuddling and him reminding me of the stranger danger rule. In which, I rebutted with the statistics of the possibility that I would be harmed is higher with people I know.

The moment I had said that it had felt wrong. Daddy would never hurt me, and neither would Reina, but the man with the scaly tattoo would most likely harm me.

His tattoos reminded me of a reptilian of some sort, and my arms would rise in a trail of goosebumps when I think about it. His is very different from Daddy’s because when I would trace it, it’s a smooth pattern that dances to the skills of a professional tattoo artist.

Daddy is a force to be reckoned with, so his ink would be a one of a kind special. No one in the world has it other than him, and I don’t know how to feel about that.

What if he made someone angry and that certain someone is vindictive enough to copy Daddy’s tattoo to frame him?

Other than that and the different topics we were talking about, we had a peaceful day to indulge in each other’s warmth. His company wouldn’t collapse from one more day of his absence.

The next day, he went to work, and I went to school with Reina.

Of course, we are back at it again, with the most anal-retentive professor ever known in the history of lectures. He likes to have power points for those who need it, but it would be paragraphs of information from the textbook even though it’s been reduced down to the main points.

At the beginning of class, he gives us handouts to follow along. That’s not quite possible when he talks about the topic on the PowerPoint for five minutes, and he would be on the next slide.

He doesn’t let us take pictures of it either. The level of anxiety students has to copy the work is ridiculous, and because we’re so focused on trying to take down notes from the slides, we can’t hear what he’s saying.

There is no perfect system to work it out.

I groan, fingers tapping quickly on the keyboard of my laptop. I’m putting down every single word he is saying because if I can’t have the slides, then I will use his words as a reference point when I look through the textbook again.

What he had said from the beginning was that we need to read the chapters first and jot down notes so we can add more when we’re in the lecture.

Honestly, only a few out of the hundreds of students even attempted the dense reading material. I tried, but the words keep swimming in front of my eyes.

“We have seven minutes left of class, does anyone have any questions?” the professor asks from the front.

No one raises their hands because no one knows what the heck is it that they don’t know.

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