La Famiglia: The Fated Series, #4

By HL Packer

Elena

The Academy.

The most prestigious school around, with the biggest price tag to go with it.

It was a dream. Until it became a nightmare.

One moment. One person.

That's all it took to bring my entire world crashing down around my ears.

A world I'm not sure I'll be able to put back together.

 

Anton

Anger bubbles beneath the surface.

A constant simmering rage that can never be sated.

It's been like this for a long time. As long as I can remember.

And now she's here. Under my feet and under my nose.

Poking the bear and kissing the damage.

But I don't know how to reconcile the hatred with what it's becoming.

 

The past is out to get us.

A ticking clock that neither of us can outrun.

Will we burn when the world crashes around us? Or will we rise like the Phoenix?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HL Packer
• Release date: Oct 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201357610

HL Packer

H.L. Packer is, quite frankly, a busy bee. An avid reader as a child, her love for all things written waned into adulthood, the excitement of real life things taking over. But when her life slowed down as she finished her office job for maternity leave, her husband purchased her an e-reader, and that obsession was rekindled. Quickly she went from reader to reviewer, and then from reviewer to blogger; street teams and promo tours galore. When she began collating her own book boxes over at Romance Readers Book Box UK and had the opportunity to include her own words and worlds, the characters began talking. Those cheeky characters quickly found themselves written down on the page, and her first series was in progress. When she is not coordinating her worlds, you can find her running around after her free-spirited three children, and husband, or tending to the dogs, bearded dragons, and snakes that also reside with them. A break can be found soaking in a bubble bath or enjoying a glass of wine, often still with a book in her hand. H.L. Packer is, quite frankly, a busy bee. An avid reader as a child, her love for all things written waned into adulthood, the excitement of real life things taking over. But when her life slowed down as she finished her office job for maternity leave, her husband purchased her an e-reader, and that obsession was rekindled. Quickly she went from reader to reviewer, and then from reviewer to blogger; street teams and promo tours galore. When she began collating her own book boxes over at Romance Readers Book Box UK and had the opportunity to include her own words and worlds, the characters began talking. Those cheeky characters quickly found themselves written down on the page, and her first series was in progress. When she is not coordinating her worlds, you can find her running around after her free-spirited three children, and husband, or tending to the dogs, bearded dragons, and snakes that also reside with them. A break can be found soaking in a bubble bath or enjoying a glass of wine, often still with a book in her hand.

Book preview

one - Elena

The electronic gates roll back slowly, the creak of the old hinges heard over the sound of the music playing softly in the background, before we drive down the extensive driveway.

The large building ahead crowds out the sun as we pull up next to a water fountain, not a person in sight.

Here you are, Miss, I’ll be here at the end of the day, the driver states coldly.

Smiling nervously, I thank him before climbing out, the door slamming behind me.

A person I don’t know, delivering me to a place I don’t know, alone.

The wind whistles around the open space; empty and solitary as I watch the vehicle retreat. Fear creeps in as a shiver crawls over my skin. He might have been someone I don’t know but the protection I felt inside that car is now stripped away as I stand in the wake of this building.

I shrug my bag higher up my arm, wrapping the thin fabric of my coat around me as the shiver attempts to take hold. The domineering building looms ahead of me, oversized stone lions either side of the huge stairs that lead to the main entrance.

It’s not that scary once you’ve done it once or twice, a cheery voice states from behind me, making me jump. My hand grips my jacket tighter at my chest, my eyes flicking around to meet those of the girl that seemingly appeared from nowhere.

By the time we get to next week, it’ll be just another building. Not the imposing monster that looks like it’s about to eat you. She smiles, waving her hand at the driver of the large blue car now pulling away.

Blonde hair spills from underneath the edges of her black beanie, a pompom wobbling above her as she smiles genuinely in my direction. With a Hermes purse hanging from her shoulder and Doc Martins adorning her feet, she is a contradiction to herself, one that continues on despite my lack of reply.

You must be Elena. I’m Bria, your welcome committee. She grins, holding her hand out towards me.

"Buongiorno. Benvenuti ragazzi?" I ask, the Italian slipping from my mouth unintentionally.

"Yes, welcome committee. But I’d drop the Italian from here on out. It’s only the best of the best at The Academy, no need for Italian."

"No need?" I ask, my confusion clear.

"Nope, only the best of the best here. And that includes your language, so drop that accent and buckle up, babe. You’re in the big leagues now."

Because that wasn’t obvious enough from the manicured gardens and ostentatious building laid out before me. Nerves eat away at me as we loiter in the early morning sun. I’m so clearly out of my league it’s not even amusing.

I’ll be your guide, your confidante, and your best friend if you need one, she sings. You’re basically stuck with me for at least the next ten days, so suck it up, buttercup. It’s time to turn that frown upside down.

She links her arm in mine, walking us confidently up the stairs like we’ve known each other our entire lives and not just five minutes stood outside in the crisp morning air. Any wobble I was having about starting is stuffed deep down as Bria breezes through the entrance without a second thought or care in the world.

The marble is smooth underfoot, like stepping into an ancient castle. Not an old crumbling one with dark walls and wood panelling like the exterior would suggest. No, this one has expensive finishes, gentle lighting, and elevator music playing throughout.

The office is down there, but I’ve got your info in my bag, she says, waving at a corridor hidden underneath a huge archway.

I’ll show you our room and then we can head on through to homeroom afterwards.

Our room? I’m not boarding here, I ask in confusion, my eyes attempting to take in everything as she drags me along.

Oh no, of course not. She giggles. "Liceo is divided into years and then rooms. Two rooms for each year, you’ll see when we get there."

She veers away from the main atrium, another large corridor taking us further into the depths of the building and to a large wooden door with WILLOW inscribed above the frame. She enters a code before the door opens to a cacophony of laughter.

There are three boys crowded around a laptop, their laughter peeling through the air as we enter. Two girls are perched on a sofa, scouring through a magazine, quietly discussing its contents and not even bothering to look in our direction as we enter.

The room is huge, easily twice as big as my living room with sofas scattered around, individual coat pegs and shoe racks set up at various stations.

You can have this one next to me, Bria explains. Just pop all your stuff in here and we can come back between classes to swap out books. It’s all coded, so nobody can get in here except for us and the teachers, your things will be quite safe.

I’m sure they will.

The children that go to this school would have no interest in my things. There’s nothing designer or labelled in my bag, not even the snacks. Nothing that holds a candle to the types of clothes hanging from them or the luxurious clothes hung up around the room.

I loiter awkwardly in front of the empty pegs. The shoe rack is as intimidating as the lions placed outside.

Oh, here is your info pack, she states, the branded portfolio landing heavily on the desk between us. There are snippets on WILLOW and OAK in there, along with all of the teachers, a map and your schedule. We meet in homeroom first thing and then go to the first two lessons. Luckily, you’re with me this morning, so grab your stuff and let’s head out, shall we? she asks expectantly as I stand there, dumbfounded.

You’ve lost me. Snippets… on Willow… and Oak?

Yes. Snippets. Info. There’s just a bio and a headshot for each of the students in our year and the teachers. It helps you to get a feel of the people you’ll be working alongside, she explains as she adjusts the scarf around her neck.

Alongside. Not learning from. Not the other kids in the class. Headshots and a bio.

I am so far out of my league here.

I don’t think she even notices my reticence as I attempt to smile, peeling the jacket from my back and hanging it up with my bag. She searches out some lost item in the bottom of her purse as I select the right books, stash the info pack on top, and follow her out of the room.

That was our class and you’ll meet the rest of the year in a bit, but I’m sure you’ll settle in just fine. She smiles as we head down the corridor, the whirlwind introduction to life at The Academy bumbling around in my brain as I follow her half-heartedly.

That was our entire class? I ask. There were like six people in there.

The slap of books landing on the floor jolts me out of my confusion. Turning at the sound, Bria grabs my arm, hurrying her pace.

What was that? I ask, attempting to twist round as Bria bustles us in the opposite direction.

I see nothing more than the back of their heads as three boys laugh and jostle their way down the corridor, evidently the reason for the fallen books they don’t stop to assist with.

I’m sure it was nothing. Don’t worry about them, she brushes off.

What do you mean? I ask. Is that guy okay? Maybe we should go back and help.

No, she replies tersely. Don’t get involved in that, Elena.

What do you mean? He might need help? Risking a furtive glance back, my eyes meet those of a dark-haired boy, seemingly barely bigger than me. His rich honey eyes are lost in despair as his gaze connects with mine briefly before diverting to collect his things.

"Well, he’s not going to get it from us. We don’t get involved with those boys."

What? Why? Who are they? I ask, shuffling my feet to keep up with her as we round a corner, losing sight of him in the process.

Those are the Mariotti boys, she hushes. They run this school. Just keep out of their way and you’ll be fine.

So they can just knock people about and get away with it? They’re bullies then.

Ha, she scoffs. They can do whatever they want to. In school. Out of school. Anywhere and everywhere. Money talks, you know?

Don’t I just fucking know it.

So, they’re rich then? I scoff under my breath, because isn’t every single person in this building rich? Other than me.

Rich isn’t even the word. She sighs. I’m pretty sure the library is named after one of them. But that isn’t why you should stay away, she whispers, looking around the empty corridor before drawing me in closer. "They’re La Famiglia."

That can’t be right. I chuckle, her apparent fear clearly unwarranted. They’re just kids.

The library? It sure is. You can check when we get there, there’s a plaque and everything. But don’t go asking around about them, okay? Just… stay out of their way.

I didn’t mean the library. I smile, my amusement clear as we continue the walk to our homeroom, barely another student in sight. Why not ask about them? They can’t be that bad?

They’re worse. One kid was joking about Anton’s dad being a drunk and a waster and he broke his nose… in the class.

And what? The teacher did nothing? I ask, horrified.

No, she sent the boy to the nurse’s office and then he never came back.

Like… went home for the day?

"Oh, no. Like the next day his name was gone from the register and his space was cleaned out as if he never even existed. It’s real. They’re somebody alright. Just promise me you’ll stay out of their way," she pleads, stopping outside the classroom.

Fine, I relent. I’m not here to make any waves. Just get my head down and get through the next few years.

Fantastic. She grins. Let’s get this out of the way, shall we? she asks, opening the door.

Anton

Did you see that bit of skirt with Bria? Carlos asks as he leans over me, snatching a roll from the basket. You like em a bit rough and ready, right? He chuckles, jostling into my shoulder.

Depends… who are you on about? I ask, righting the tray as we stroll down the lunch line.

Redhead. Looks like she might bite––if you pushed her hard enough. He chuckles roughly.

Carina is still blowing my phone up, I can’t get rid of the fucking clinger. Maybe that would finally do it? I ponder, selecting a prepacked sandwich and a handful of apples from the counter.

Our table is empty as the cards swipe through for lunch, nobody daring to encroach as I slide my jacket over the back of the chair. Stuffing my tie into the pocket, I flip open the top button, running my hands through my hair as I take in the cafeteria. This might be one of the most prestigious schools in the country, but that doesn’t mean I have to look like a complete prick for the entire day.

Lots of things might be different about The Academy; the staff, the students, the common rooms, the big open spaces and light airy rooms. There are no crowded corridors, cramped lockers, and rammed classes in here.

But one thing is synonymous with schools all over the world and that is the lunch canteen. Closer akin to a restaurant with its large round tables and silver service, it’s still somewhere to dump all the students for an hour while the grownups do whatever it is they do.

Here, look. Carlos nudges as the soft scent of mango twirls past us.

There’s a flash of fiery red hair, a jacket left loose around a small frame with prim white socks pulled up to her knees. The shoes on her feet are practical––at best––and about as far from anything the girls here would wear, it’s laughable.

"Where the fuck did they find that?" I scoff.

"She’s the scholarship girl. Best of the best, or whatever bullshit Carrone was going on about. Don’t you remember him telling us?"

No.

You’re never paying attention, Anton. One day that’s gonna land you in the fucking shit. He laughs.

I’m paying attention now, aren’t I? I snip, tracking her movement through the room. She laughs delicately, the sound carrying across to me like tinkling bells, and as she turns, I get my first peek at her.

Pale skin and a smattering of freckles dancing across her nose. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as her gaze snaps to mine. Deep emerald eyes stare back at me, shock at the recognition clear as she continues her conversation. Bria turns towards me, following her line of sight before turning her away with hushed words and worried looks.

What the fuck is she doing here? I growl.

Just told ya, man. Scholarship.

"Not that. Her. How the fuck did you let this happen?" I ask with a snarl.

His attention snaps to me, conversations continuing around us as he reads all the things I’m not saying.

Me? he asks, his head rearing back as his eyebrows raise.

Fix it. She needs to be gone. And now.

Carlos turns to take her in, his interest piqued at my obvious discomfort as he settles back into the seat beside me. Who the fuck is she?

That’s Elena, I clip. Elena Bianchi.

His burger drops to the plate, his hands wiping on the napkin as he looks her over with new eyes. Shit. I’ll sort it.

Too fucking right you will, I snap, climbing out of my seat and sliding the jacket back on before snatching an apple from the tray as I stalk towards her, my appetite lost.

The room is nothing but a blur of faces and sounds as I watch her. Intentionally, she avoids my stare, refusing to look in my direction as I close the distance between us, stopping abruptly behind her.

Oh, hi, Anton. Bria smiles up at me as she turns, dark lashes fanning out over her perfectly made-up face. Elena stands stock still, refusing to turn and acknowledge my heat at her back. The awareness all too obvious.

"Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?" I leer.

Yeah, sure. She shrugs. Anton, this is Elena, she’s just started today. Elena, this is Anton.

"Good morning, Elena, I purr behind her as she continues to ignore me, her head turning to Bria minutely. It’s rude not to engage in a conversation when someone else has made the effort, Elena."

She takes a step away from me, carving a space between us before turning to face me. Her petite features are softer than they used to be, resignation creeping over her as she sighs, her light pink lips pursing slightly as she does.

Good morning, Anton.

See? That wasn’t so hard. I smirk.

The win of getting her to turn around, to acknowledge the fact that I’m here is empty, soured by the fact it’s her. Crunching a bite from the juicy apple, I drop it on her tray.

Don’t get comfortable, I spit out before marching out of the canteen and back to MAPLE.

What the fuck is she doing here? And how fast can I get rid of her?

elena

Bria closes the door behind us, double-checking the corridor before she sinks into the softness of the sofa beside me.

Okay, what the hell was that? she asks, eager to glean as much gossip as she can.

What? I ask, avoiding the obvious.

Anton Proetti, she breathes. What. The hell. Was that?

Oh, nothing, I brush off. He just doesn’t like me, that’s all.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

"How the hell do you know him? I didn’t know you had connections?"

Her eyebrows raise suggestively as she nudges me.

I don’t.

Uh, if you’re on his radar––and you clearly are––you do.

What’s that supposed to mean? I ask, picking at a loose thread on my skirt.

I should have got a new one for school. I should have got a whole load of new things for a school like this. But when you’re not sure what––if any––food is going to be in the cupboards next week, you save what you can where you can. Not that the people here have any idea what that feels like.

The difference between my situation and that of the rest of the school stings, despite the words not being said, yet.

He’s one of the guys I told you about this morning, Bria replies, dragging my attention back to the here and now. "La Famiglia."

He can’t be, he’s not a Mariotti? I ask in confusion.

No, he’s not. He’s Carlos’ cousin. But surely, if you’re in with them, then you know all this? she asks, her confusion matching my own as disappointment tugs at the edges of her words.

I’m not in with them. I laugh. "I thought that was pretty clear considering that," I say, gesturing to the door and the scene at lunch.

Oh, honey. She giggles, her eyes twinkling with mischief. You have no idea about boys, do you? Anton Proetti just pissed all over you in front of the entire school. I think even I’m wet just watching the two of you. Jesus, that was hot.

Hot? I balk. He practically spat apple in my face and then dropped it on my tray like I was his fucking maid.

"Yep, but when that boy pays attention to someone, the rest of the world pays attention too. Just remember I was your bestie first, okay?" She grins.

Nobody is going to give a shit about me here, Bria. You’re safe. I laugh depreciatingly.

Well, just to be sure, I’ll take you home tonight. I don’t need him whisking you away into the night.

Ha, yeah. There’s no way I am going to end up alone with Anton Proetti. No way in hell. Even if I might sell my soul to the devil to get there in the first place.

I can’t help the way I categorise the changes since I last saw him.

Those high cheekbones still the envy of many a girl, I’m sure. Dark eyes and thick hair balance out the fullness of his lips. He’s broader now too; darker, with a dangerous edge that wraps around him like an old coat––supple and moulded, the kind you’re barely aware of wearing.

His warning rings clear in my mind as Bria laughs beside me and I know for certain, no matter what Bria or anyone else in this place has to say about it. I will be avoiding Anton Proetti at all costs.

Two // Anton

How the hell did she manage to get in here?

How the hell did I manage to miss this?

Too wrapped up in the new woman my father is peddling around to pay attention when it’s needed.

Shit.

She’s not supposed to be here.

She won't be here. Not for much longer. Not if I have anything to do with it.

There’s no way I can get through this next year looking at her innocent little face every day. I can’t do it. I won’t.

I don’t even realise the direction my feet have taken me until the gym door slams behind me, the sound echoing around the space.

Yo, T. You still in here? I call out across the gym.

Crossing the room, I find Tino gloved-up with a punching bag.

Yo, T, I call again, closer to him.

He looks up, surprise crossing his face as he pulls the headphones from his ears.

Ah, sorry, man. Didn’t hear you. He shrugs. What’s up?

Elena Bianchi. That’s what’s up.

Who’s that? he asks, confusion clear.

A ghost arriving here to fucking haunt me, I grumble.

Wanna practice murdering it? he asks with a smirk.

Gimme the gloves.

The half an hour at lunch wasn’t enough. It’s never enough.

The incessant rage that simmers beneath the surface and is always there, always waiting, as the afternoon classes drag on.

Franky groans beside me, throwing a paper ball at the back of someone’s head and missing. Miss Esposito collects it from the floor as she wanders the breadth of the classroom, a practised arch of her eyebrow sent in his direction before she throws it, skillfully landing it in the bin.

Mr. Lastra, I’ll have a word at the end of the class, if you don’t mind.

Actually, I have somewhere to be, Signora.

Well then, you should have thought about that before you threw notes in my class. I’m sure you’ll enjoy explaining that to whomever you are holding up at the end of the day. She smirks, turning on her heel. Now, formulae. If you don’t mind.

So much for getting out of here and getting on with my life. Now, I have to wait for this fucking idiot. Seriously?

I’ll be out in ten, man, Franky whispers as class finishes, everyone packing their books away and heading home.

Fine, we’ll wait, I