I used boys when I wanted and on my terms.
Luca was wrong on so many levels and not because of his familial connections. If anything, knowing they operated outside the law turned me on. His defiance of authority, the way he’d gripped me in the quad, his erection pressed against my thigh had made me wet with anticipation.
Why did the wrong thing always feel so right? Was there something inherently evil inside me, trying to break free?
I glanced at Silvia as I flipped through the channels. “What do you think? Should I hook up with Luca?”
Everyone on campus, for the most part, knew the Marchese family ran the Philadelphia crime family. I’d caught him staring at me during classes, and I’d dodged him any chance I could for the past three years.
But, today, I’d straddled him, and I’d liked it. He could have taken me on the lawn, and I would have let him.
And, now, I had Luca on the brain. Everything about him screamed danger, and I wanted him to corrupt me in every way possible. A red flag waved above my head, but I ignored it. I remembered him from when we were younger—though I’d never admit it. Doing so would mean my family was just as crooked, and in the eyes of investors, we had to appear squeaky clean. We had a public image to uphold.
“Hmm…” Silvia slid her hand behind her head, staring up at the ceiling, as if it held the answer to my question. “I don’t know. He’ll just use you for sex and go on his way, like he does with every other girl.”
I filled my cup with more liqueur than coffee and set the hot carafe on the pot holder on the table.
Sex wasn’t about love; it was about power. And that came to mind as I responded, “Not if I use him first.”
LUCA
When I walked into the Delta Sig house, some of the newer brothers were arranging furniture along the walls.
Our house was pretty sweet, and by far, it was the largest on Greek Row. The three-story Victorian had a killer basement reserved for beer-pong tourneys and turning pledges into men. Split between the upper floors were fifteen bedrooms and seven bathrooms. What most would consider the attic, I’d claimed as my room. On the top floor, down the back hall, was a single door to my oasis.
I couldn’t wait to climb those steps and crash onto my king-size bed, but being the president of a fraternity sucked. Babysitting man-children and running the day-to-day operations was my normal routine. But I always had to err on the side of caution. Sitting before school execs to explain why a pledge had pissed in the fountain wasn’t my favorite thing to do.
I strolled through the living room, dining room, and into the kitchen, nodding at my brothers as I passed. My team had crushed it in tackle football, but I still felt the aftereffects. Each time I took a breath, my ribs would hurt where a swift elbow had hit. I popped a few Advil, took a sip of water, and opened the door to the back stairwell.
“Luca, hold up a sec.”
I turned toward Hunter who leaned against the kitchen island. Mark stood next to him with the usual dumb look on his face that gave nothing away, his muscular arms crossed over his chest.
Hunter swiped a soft pretzel off the bar, bit into it, and mumbled between bites, “The guy’s here with the sand. He needs you to sign for it.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him, confused. “The party’s not for two more weeks. Where are we supposed to put it?”
Mark and Hunter shrugged. I closed the door to the stairs and set off toward the front of the house.
“Did the kegs come yet?” I asked no one in particular.
“No, not yet,” Mark said, falling in line next to me. He glanced at Hunter and then me, the corner of his lip curling upward.
We stared at each other, somewhat deflated at the sight of our front porch covered with bags of sand.
“Who was in charge of ordering for the party?” I asked.
“Johnny B, I think.” Mark seemed unsure of his response. “Dude’s a moron.”
I didn’t disagree. In retrospect, I should have finalized the details myself, but I’d decided to delegate some of my responsibilities to my younger brothers. After all, I would be graduating at the end of the year, and someone needed to fill my role as president.
“Doesn’t matter now. It can sit out here until the party,” I said, taking the clipboard from the deliveryman. “I hope the Alphas don’t fuck with our shit like last time.”
“They even think about it, I’ll be crackin’ skulls,” Hunter interjected, smashing his fists together. “I hate those assholes.”
Mark scowled at the house next door. “Preppy fucks.”
Mark was an ass, but I’d let it slide more than most. I had a soft side when it came to him, sort of a hard-knocks pass.
After high school, my family had moved from a row house in South Philly to just over the bridge in South Jersey. Mark and I had grown up together. We’d first met while playing Wallball behind the Italian bakery around the corner from our houses, the same location where we’d later plot all of our best schemes. As the years had passed, we’d created our own rackets, like selling mix tapes and cigarettes, anything to turn a quick profit.
Mark had a tough life with his father, who was in and out of jail for various misdemeanors. And his mom never stayed sober long enough to feed him or his younger siblings. My dad had spent the first five years of my life in the joint, leaving Ma to raise three rowdy boys. I didn’t remember his absence, never felt the impact of losing a parent.
At first, Hunter hadn’t fit into our equation. Not with his perfect white teeth and trust fund that could buy up all the houses on my old block. We had taken Hunter under our wings during our sophomore year, teaching him the ropes of fraternity life. He lived in some mansion in Greenwich, Connecticut, with the rest of the rich dicks. As the son of a professional football player, he never knew the struggle we’d had as kids. But his dad was an asshole, so we all had that in common.
As planned, we had enough sand to fill our house and front yard. I signed the delivery receipt and handed the clipboard to the deliveryman.
I loved our annual beach party, but dragging sand through the house had proven to be a real bitch. We’d end up cleaning it off the floors for days, but half-naked chicks in bikinis or less made it worthwhile. And the boys agreed.
I sat on a lounge chair and stared out at Greek Row. One after another, brick Victorian houses with long porches spanned the street. Even while I was under the cover of the awning, the sun beat down on me. We were experiencing an end-of-summer heat wave that felt ten times hotter in the city.
Hunter and Mark sat in the chairs across from me.
“I need you guys to track down Izzie and find out where she’s going later.”
Surprise registered most on Mark, who looked as though he were going to be sick. “You’re shittin’ me, right? She already told you.”
I glared at him. “Trust me, she won’t be at Mickey’s. Will you do it or not?”
Hunter sat next to me, his chair hitting the wall as he sank into it. “I can text the chick Bianca shares a room with. I saw Izzie talking to her before, and they live in the same dorm. What’s her name? Betty, Hailey, Brittney—shit, I can’t remember.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his address book.
I propped my elbow on the edge of the chair, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. “Just make sure you tell her not to open her mouth. No one is to know about this.”
One thing about these two, they were loyal. I trusted very few people with my family secrets, and Hunter and Mark were good at keeping their mouths shut. They understood the concept of complete and total silence.
“I want to know what room she’s in, where she eats—whatever you can find out.”
Mark hunched over, the chair creaking beneath his weight. He had the frame of a hockey player, except he played baseball on scholarship at Strick U. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. She’s just a girl. I mean, she’s hot as fuck, but again, bro, she’s just a girl.”
I look
ed him square in the eyes, but I didn’t answer him.
He shifted nervously and turned his head toward Hunter. “All right, fine. I think Bianca shares a room with that girl Bonnie I hooked up with after winter break last year.”
Hunter looked up from his phone. “Bonnie! That’s it.” Then, he started scrolling through his Contacts again.
I looked at Mark, who leaned over to grab beer from the cooler next to him. He handed one to each of us.
I cracked open the can and sat back in my chair as I chugged down half the contents. “I’d ask if you had Bonnie’s number, but I’m sure that’s a no.”
I laughed because Mark never kept a number under any circumstances. At least I would take the number even if I had no intention to call. That seemed more decent than a flat-out refusal.
“I got it,” Hunter called out.
He rambled off the number to Mark, who made the call.
Awkward did not begin to describe the conversation between Mark and Bonnie. At one point, I cringed from the brutal sounds coming through the speaker. Whatever tongue-lashing she was giving him, I would make up for it later. I looked out for all my boys, especially when they risked so much to help me.
Mark glared at me. “Thanks for that, Luca. Now, we’re stuck inviting Bonnie and her roommate—who, by the way, looks like a fucking troll—to our party. Not a good look when we’re trying to steal pledges from the Alpha house.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket and sucked in a deep breath. “Silvia’s meeting Izzie at the SAC for dinner around six.”
I glanced down at my watch, the gold band gleaming in the sunlight. Everyone ate at the Student Activities Center aka the SAC, but I didn’t expect a Rinaldi to sit with the common folk. That gave me three hours to shower, nap, and win this girl over. “Thanks.” I pulled myself up from the chair and slapped Mark on the shoulder. “You guys feel like eating at the SAC tonight?”
“Yeah, sure,” Hunter said, his typical response to everything. “I can always eat.”
He’d gained about thirty pounds since last year. His six-pack had waved good-bye, replaced by a beer gut. Even girls on campus were talking about him, but that didn’t seem to slow him down. Linemen were big by nature, so a little cushion wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“I’m down,” Mark said, following me into the house. “You sure you want to bother with this chick?”
I stopped when I reached the landing to the second floor and held on to the banister. “What do you think? She’s the Holy Grail, bro.”
Most of the guys on campus, my brothers included, would give their right nut for one night with Izzie. I’d been waiting for a shot with her for years, and I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity.
Mark threw his hands out at his sides, as if saying, I don’t know. “You were a mess last time, Luca. When your families stopped talking to each other, I thought you were going to lose your shit. You were heartbroken over Izzie when we were kids.”
“That’s why I’m not letting her go this time.”
He ran a hand through his spiky auburn hair. “That girl is nothing but trouble. I’m just trying to look out for you. Do what you want, but we both know how this is going to end.”
I reached for my door at the end of the hallway and turned until I was facing Mark. “I’m taking a shower. Meet me downstairs later, if you wanna come.”
I thought I heard Mark sigh, and then his door closed.
Now that I’d made up my mind about Izzie, I couldn’t turn back. We’d met years ago, long before college, at a fundraiser our families attended, and even as a little girl, Izzie was gorgeous. She obviously forgot about it. Either that, or she preferred to believe we weren’t cut from the same designer fabric.
I had to see if she would give me a chance. What was I thinking? She’d yelled at me one time, and I was already stalking her. I did not stalk women, especially not to get laid.
But Izzie was so much more than that. She deserved better than my usual treatment.
I opened the door, raced upstairs to the renovated attic I called home, and threw myself on my bed. The silky duvet Ma had sent over felt like sleeping on a cloud. I imagined Izzie next to me, her sweat-glistened naked body curled between my sheets. Damn, I had it bad for a girl who couldn’t stand the sight of me.
Chapter Four
IZZIE
When I reached the SAC, the intoxicating aroma of fried food welcomed me.
I sifted through the masses, passing the bookstore, and headed up a flight of stairs. Holding on to the railing, I leaned over and took inventory of my surroundings. A small part of me felt like pushing out my arms and soaking in every ounce of freedom. I planned to celebrate every second of my final year. Then, I’d be sucked into the vortex of Rinaldi Holdings.
I glanced down at my cell phone, and true to my control-freak nature, it was six o’clock on the dot. Silvia had a habit of being fashionably late, and for her, the emphasis was always on the fashion, except not in the traditional sense. She’d have on a thick layer of eyeliner, maybe a colored streak or two in her black hair—this week was hot pink—and an outfit that accentuated her curves.
With hundreds of people roaming around the SAC, she would look nothing short of spectacular.
I walked inside the crowded cafeteria, grabbed a tray from the stack, and slid it down the metal counter. They had everything from burgers and fries to Chinese food. I had my eye on the massive salad bar in the center of the buffet lines, but I’d need junk food to soak up the booze. A boy behind me cleared his throat, indicating I was holding up the line. I moved forward without looking and bumped into the girl in front of me.
She turned around, her eyes full of hatred, her mouth twisted into a grimace. “Excuse you.”
I stopped dead in my tracks as she glowered at me for a few seconds.
Where was Silvia when I needed her? She would have made a joke of the whole situation and been BFFs with this girl by the end of dinner. Not me though.
My eyes never faltered from the girl in front of me.
She realized we’d hit an impasse, and our staring contest ended with her snapping a head of thick red hair back to center. Good thing she’d backed down. The last thing I needed on my first day back was to get into a chick fight.
I searched the expanse of the hall for Silvia, only to catch someone else’s attention.
Instead of Silvia, a guy with olive skin and wavy black hair burned a hole through me. Everything about him oozed sex…and trouble. At first, excitement shot through me like a thunderbolt—until I realized it was Luca. Something about him provoked a sudden rage in me, followed by an overwhelming curiosity. Impervious to the Prestons of the world, I hated myself for feeling anything toward Luca—even if it that emotion was anger, laced with a bit of sexual tension.
As he violated me with his eyes, I fluffed my curls, creating a curtain between us. In desperate need of a distraction, I added random foods to my plate. Tuna salad didn’t go with pizza or mashed potatoes and gravy. Luca had me so flustered that it looked like a pregnant woman had assembled my dinner for me.
As if a douche-bag alarm sounded in my mind, beckoning me to notice him, I glanced in his direction. And, when I did, he neared the cash register, his denim-blue eyes fixed on mine.
In my head, I listed all the reasons he appalled me. For starters, he was wearing a two thousand dollar gold watch on his wrist and four-hundred-dollar jeans. Throw in the navy dress shirt, probably handmade in Europe, and he was another Preston. I’d expected the son of a Mafia boss to be a little more unrefined.
But it wasn’t the money that repulsed me. I’d be a hypocrite to pretend as if we didn’t live a comfortable life.
It was what a guy like him represented.
By the time I paid, Luca had vanished. Thank God. Another minute of him gawking at me, I would have chucked the roll on my plate at his head.
Crammed between hundreds of people, Silvia stood on a chair and flagged me down. She had on a black T-shirt that sho
wed part of her stomach and a miniskirt. And her heels with gold spikes on them looked as though they could take someone’s eyes out.
“Izzie Bear, over here,” Silvia called out.
I followed her silvery voice to the table.
“About time you made it.”
I set my tray next to hers, taking a seat with a flustered sigh. She sat across from two of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen. I wondered if their faces had ever graced the cover of a fashion magazine.
“Penny, Alex, this is Izzie,” Silvia announced. Then, she turned to me, her fingers grazing my forearm. “This is Penny Baldwin, Kappa’s president.” She pointed at the girl with pin-straight blonde hair and hazel eyes that appeared more green than brown.
Penny studied my face before her features softened. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Her voice rose about three octaves higher than normal. “You know, if you’re looking for an invite to the best parties on campus, you should hang with Kappa.”
What do you want? The thought entered my mind almost immediately.
Everyone wanted something from a Rinaldi, and I knew the sorority chick I’d never spoken to had an end game.
Next to Penny, a girl with caramel hair, cut in layers over her shoulders, flashed a broad grin at me. She raised her hand and gave me a quick wave. “Hey, I’m Alex. You should totally come by the house later for our Thirsty Thursday cosmo party.”
I nodded as they poked at their salads—or beds of lettuce, to be more accurate.
Of all the times I order a plate of junk food, and I sit with girls eating fucking lettuce, picking at it like rabbits. Go figure.
“Love your top. Where did you get it?” Alex asked.
I glanced down at the black tunic with pink stitching and pondered what god-awful store my mother had dredged this out of. “Nordstrom, I think.”
“I love that store,” Alex beamed.
Of course you do.
Silvia nudged me on the arm, knocking the fork from my hand. “Hotties at three o’clock.”
I looked to my right and frowned when I saw Luca strutting over to our table. He slid a chair between Penny and Alex and straddled it with his long legs. I tried to ignore his lecherous gaze, but the two feet separating us was not enough. The devilish grin he wore, although unbelievably hot, made me want to slap the look off his face.
Corrupt Me Page 3
