Corrupt Me

by Jillian Quinn

  Mark and a few of the Delta Sig brothers were flirting with girls I’d never seen before. Judging by the pins they wore, I guessed they were Kappa sisters. I sat to the right of Mark and Hunter. The people at the end of the table stopped talking, and I suddenly felt the urge to hide. That awkward silence, even though it was brief, had become the new thing when I walked into a room.

  I waved politely at the semi-attractive blondes next to Penny. They both looked me over, as if deciding whether it was okay to speak to me. Then, their faces lit up as Luca set two trays in front of me.

  “I couldn’t decide. I got a little bit of everything.” Luca scooted his chair so that our thighs were touching, and everyone stared. “I got bacon, sausage, waffles, orange juice, coffee.” He pointed at the second plate. “And a cheese omelet, your favorite.”

  Luca handed me a fork, and without hesitation, I dug into the omelet. We crossed forks, nudging the other one out of the way, and we laughed between bites.

  “Mine.” I tapped him with my elbow.

  Luca leaned over my left arm to steal a slice of bacon and popped a piece into my mouth. I gulped down half of the orange juice, unable to stifle a laugh as he licked his lips at me. Juice drizzled down my face and onto my chest. He patted me dry with a napkin, and warmth spread to my cheeks.

  “What the fuck?” The girl with the angry valley girl voice stood behind Penny, her mouth twisted in disgust. “Really, Luca?” She pushed her hands onto her hips, swinging her corkscrew dark curls away from her face.

  “And you are?” she hissed, her eyes cutting through me like daggers.

  I pushed myself up from the table, my lip curled in anger. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  Luca grabbed my wrist, his touch somehow keeping me grounded, as I clamped down on the edge of the table.

  “C’mon, babe. Chill.”

  “Oh, how cute.” The girl rolled her eyes. “You have a pet name for her already.”

  Penny threw her arm out in front of the girl, nervously biting on her lip. “Izzie, this is Savannah Lockwood.”

  Not only did Savannah scream trust-fund baby, but she also had the name of one, too. Despite my grandfather’s wealth, I hated the idea of reproducing arrogant, self-entitled snobs, ones like some of the people who attended Strickland.

  “So?” I snapped. “I don’t give a shit who she is.”

  Penny ignored me and turned to the bitch eyeballing me. “Savvy, this is Izzie Rinaldi.”

  Savannah’s stony expression eased up when Penny touched her forearm. She shot an evil stare in Luca’s direction and let out a puff of air, blowing a long curl in her eyes. “Luca, can I talk to you?”

  Luca looked at me and then to Savannah, and for a second, I wondered what had transpired between them in the past.

  “I’ll be back,” he whispered, his breath warming my earlobe. “Behave yourself.”

  “Don’t I always?” I deadpanned.

  He smirked in response.

  When the two of them were out of sight, I sat down and looked at Penny. “What’s her problem?”

  Penny flicked a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder, feigning a smile. “She hooked up with Luca during our freshman year, and now, she gets all cranky anytime she sees him with a girl.”

  She didn’t even blink, and by the way she’d spit out the words, I tensed up, now aggravated with Luca for leaving me.

  “Don’t worry; I’ll smooth things over with Savvy. She’s just jealous.”

  I laughed, which sounded more like a choking sound since my mouth was so dry. “Of what?”

  “You and Luca, of course,” she spoke, as though it were common knowledge to everyone, except Luca and me, that we were dating.

  “There’s nothing going on between us,” I grunted. “We’re just friends.”

  “Could have fooled me.” Her voice grew stern as she leaned on the table, her face cupped between her hands. “Luca doesn’t have female friends.” She pointed her manicured long finger at the boys next to me and at the end of the table. “They’re his friends. Whatever you think is going on, trust me, you will regret it.”

  Was it wrong to like sleeping next to him or to enjoy sharing meals or watching television together? Of course, his ability to give me multiple orgasms was an added bonus. Maybe I was a fool for believing I could be Luca’s friend with benefits.

  I finished my omelet in silence, which Silvia knew was code for, Leave me alone.

  The awkwardness at the table eventually ebbed away, their conversations blending with the noise of the cafeteria. A small part of me wanted to give Luca a shot, but my sensible side said, Hell no.

  Twenty minutes had passed, several people had left for classes, and Luca hadn’t returned. That sick feeling in my stomach made a comeback. When I stood, Silvia lifted her tray and flashed a sheepish grin.

  “Stay.” I swatted my hand and forced a fake smile. We had been friends for too long for her not to pick up on my irritation. I needed to retreat if I planned to keep my sanity in check. “I have to run to class. I’ll see you at work.”

  “Okay.” Silvia bobbed her head, deflated.

  I zipped through the crowded halls, down the stairs, and out the front door. Even with the humidity and end-of-summer heat, I breathed easier.

  Two hours later, Luca called, but I ignored it and went about my day.

  During class, my phone dinged with a text message.

  Dinner later?

  That was followed with another text.

  Sorry about earlier.

  I’d changed my clothes between classes, pretending Luca didn’t exist, and by late afternoon, I left for work. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. I couldn’t handle a friends with benefits relationship with Luca, not when the Savvy’s of the world had their claws in him, and Grandfather would never let me date a Marchese. And he would go ballistic if he ever found out. As far as I was concerned, the second Luca walked out of the cafeteria with Savvy, we were done.

  Chapter Fourteen

  LUCA

  “She hates me. She fucking hates me,” I mumbled to myself as I walked through campus, cell phone in hand.

  After my conversation with Savvy, I had to hear from Izzie. I’d been checking my phone every five seconds, hoping she would call, text, or even e-mail. Hell, I would settle for anything.

  Damn, I’d fucked up. No way would Izzie ever deem me worthy when I couldn’t keep my shit together. What was I thinking, walking away with Savvy? Leaving with someone who looked like an old pinup girl, like an idiot, would not win Izzie over.

  Over the past few weeks, I’d noticed how jealous Izzie could get, so I’d known better. But I’d had to think of my brothers when I saw Savvy glaring at me.

  “Luc, wait up!” Hunter yelled behind me, his sneakers hitting the pavement with a loud thud. He cupped my shoulder with his big hand, bringing me to a halt.

  I turned to face him as he blew out a puff of air. He hunched over, his palms flat on his thighs, as he attempted to catch his breath. He looked as though he’d run a marathon, beads of sweat rolling off his shaved head and down his face.

  Hunter pulled the black cutoff shirt he wore over his head and wiped his forehead. “Practice was killer,” he said, slinging his shirt around his neck. “Coach is riding me like a sorostitute on a Saturday night.”

  I laughed as I tapped him in the stomach, and what used to be a six-pack moved with my touch. “You’re out of shape. Just ’cause you’re a lineman doesn’t mean you have to turn into a fatty.”

  Hunter shrugged, his broad shoulders creating a wall. Even though I was six foot three, he towered over me, making me seem small in comparison.

  As the son of Sebastian Sterling—who had been the star quarterback at Strickland University back in the eighties before turning pro baller—Hunter had big shoes to fill. But his lack of discipline and constant partying had almost gotten him thrown off the team last year. With his father’s intervention, he’d managed to keep his position, but
he was on thin ice.

  “I’m working on it,” Hunter said, keeping pace with me as we walked through campus. “I’ve gotta lay off the beer for a while. Coach handed me a fucking meal plan and told me I had to follow some bullshit diet. He’s making me work with our trainer until I get back in shape.”

  The weight didn’t agree with him, and it showed on the field. Over the past year, he had gone from fast-tracking it to the pros to barely keeping his spot on the team. Of course, his dad would call ten times a day to remind him about how much he was screwing up his career, so he didn’t need me to tell him that he was blowing his chances.

  I tapped him on the back in acknowledgment. “Laying off the beer sounds like a good start, but I’ll believe it when I see it. You should try those protein shakes that Mark drinks during baseball season.”

  “Nah. Those shakes taste like rotten vegetables mixed with chocolate powder. I think I’ll pass.”

  We rounded the corner without uttering another word until we reached Greek Row, mainly because I didn’t feel like talking. Girl drama was a first for me.

  Hunter waved to someone across the street, but my gaze drifted elsewhere.

  With his elbow, he tapped me on the bicep to get my attention. “What happened with Savvy?”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and shrugged, still focused on the concrete. “Her usual bullshit about how she wants to be with me and that she’ll make Izzie’s life miserable if I don’t stay away from her.”

  Hunter sighed. “Are you willing to take that chance with a girl you actually like? Look what Savvy did last year. That chick you hooked up with had to transfer schools.”

  My focus shifted back to the ground, and my thoughts drifted to Izzie. “Savvy knows about the merger between our families. I’m not sure how she found out, but she threatened to tell the press about the deal. I can’t have that happen. As far as I know, Izzie has no clue that her grandfather is still in business with my dad.”

  He continued, “Look, man, I know you like this girl, but—”

  I held up my hand to make him stop. “I got it. Enough! Mario told my dad about Izzie at dinner on Sunday, and I already heard an earful from him about how I’m screwing with his business.”

  When we reached the house, I kept walking without saying a word. Hunter ran up the stairs to our house, slapping two of our brothers on the backs as they stood on the porch. They turned around and called out to me.

  I dismissively raised my hand and checked my phone again.

  No texts and no missed calls—at least none I wanted to answer. This was the longest Izzie and I had gone without speaking.

  Five minutes before my shift, I strolled through the door of Francesca’s Brick Oven Pizza. My mother stood behind the front counter, cutting a pie she’d retrieved from the oven. The wood fire gave off a delicious charred scent that always reminded me of home.

  Only one person could take away the pain I felt, and that was Ma. I leaned my elbows on the counter and looked up at her in admiration. Twenty-five years after my father bought her this place and she still insisted she run the restaurant, despite my father’s protests.

  “Hey, Ma.” My voice sounded as hollow as I felt on the inside.

  She set the pizza wheel on the black marble and slid a pepperoni pie into the case. I thought of Izzie and the first night we’d come here.

  I had made a habit of calling Izzie on my way home from work to see if she wanted me to bring her dinner. A few times, I had shown up with her favorite pie, which put smiles on both her and Silvia’s faces. I loved making Izzie smile more than anything in the world. I loved the sound of her throaty laughter in my ear when I tickled her. I loved that dirty mouth and how she never put up with my shit.

  I was starting to think I loved everything about her.

  Now, all I felt was emptiness as I stared down at the phone in my hands.

  “What’s wrong, polpetto?”

  I hated when Ma called me meatball, but I didn’t protest.

  “It’s that girl, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, staring out the window at a yellow Camaro flying down the street.

  “When can I meet her?”

  “I don’t know. She’s not talking to me.” I sat on a stool in front of the counter and ran my hand through my hair. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I did something I didn’t think would matter at the time, and now, she won’t return any of my calls.”

  She reached out and clamped her hand over mine. Her palm was calloused, like mine, from years of working around pizza ovens, but the warmth she exuded calmed me. It always calmed me. Other than Ma, no woman had ever had that effect on me—until Izzie.

  “It’s okay.” Ma gave my hand a good squeeze. “She’ll come around.”

  With her black hair tucked into a bun, Ma’s face looked angelic.

  We had the same denim-blue eyes, the only feature we shared. I’d inherited my father’s defined jawline, straight nose, and wavy black hair. His hair had a splash of gray, but other than that, he still looked young enough to pass for an older brother.

  Anthony and Mario, my older brothers who were separated by two minutes at birth, had my father’s threatening dark eyes. Ma understood me in a way my father could never comprehend. He took my flat-out refusal to acknowledge our family business as disobedience. That had led to many knockdown, drag-out fights.

  “Your father’s sorry about last night,” Ma said, sliding her hand off the counter. “I know you two have your issues, but that’s because you’re too much alike. I see a lot of him in you, Luca.”

  “I’m nothing like him.” Comparing me to that monster annoyed the hell out of me. I lowered my voice to a whisper out of fear someone would overhear our conversation. “Every Sunday I come to dinner and each week we fight over his business. I already told Dad I don’t want to be a part of his organization. Do you really want that for me, Ma? Anthony and Mario already made their bones, followed in dad’s footsteps, but I don’t want to be like them. I want to be a lawyer not a criminal.”

  No matter what, my father and I never saw eye-to-eye on anything. Not on sports, schools, choice of majors, nothing. But my brothers could do no wrong. I was the family fuckup who returned on Sundays for dinner.

  Between last night’s bloodbath with Dad and now Izzie, my head felt as though it would implode.

  Should I give in to his wishes and become part of the organization he’s spent his life building?

  I did plenty of illegal things but not the kind that would land me in jail for life. Not to mention, what I’d have to do to become a made man.

  “Of course not, Luca. I want a different life for you.” Ma slid a glass of water in front of me. “I’m proud of you. All I want is to see my baby boy graduate from college and go to law school.”

  I wasn’t like Anthony or Mario, too stupid to go against our father’s wishes, and I was nothing like my father. Crime was essential to the fabric of our civilization, but that didn’t mean I agreed with how our criminal underworld worked. As far as I was concerned, my gambling rackets were as legal as driving to Atlantic City and dumping money in a fucking slot machine. Too bad the FBI didn’t see it that way.

  Ma picked up a knife and started dicing an onion, shaking her head. Watching her cook was one of my favorite things to do. I could’ve sat there for hours, listening to her hum the tunes to her favorite Sicilian folk songs.

  My father had learned of my extracurricular activities, and he’d gone ballistic. He thought the risk wasn’t worth the reward, that I would draw unwanted attention to the family. Of course, I disagreed. I did enough favors for him, like signing my name to the semi-legal companies he used as tax shelters. I didn’t feel bad defying my father’s wishes, not when my ass was on the line, too. And he expected me to forfeit a relationship with Izzie because of the real estate deal our family had in the works with Angelo Rinaldi.

  I kept a low profile when it came to my bookmaking and card games. I knew not to take anything for granted.


  The FBI shadowed us everywhere we went, which forced my father to operate through a tier of advisers. He barely left his house and never spoke on the phone with the rare exception of when he would use a burner. But, for the most part, he lived a reclusive lifestyle.

  When Ma set down the knife and peeked up at me, her eyes held enough sadness for two lifetimes. “Of all my boys, you’re the smartest. You always have been. You’re also the most stubborn, just like your father. The gambling rackets end now. Do you understand me?”

  “Dad’s known about it for years. I don’t know why he’s acting like this is something I’ve been keeping from him.”

  As the bell over the door dinged, she clasped the edge of the counter and whispered, “Enzo, Sr. came to see your father on Friday. I don’t think I need to tell you to stay away from EJ. Stop taking his money. He’s worse than a drug addict, and his father is too important, too close to our business.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled as she walked around the bar to the front of the restaurant to greet customers.

  Enzo Vitale Senior was my father’s childhood friend, a made man, and a capo regime in my father’s organization with his own men working under him. Enzo Vitale Jr.—aka EJ—would wager every cent he owned on anything from college football games to horseraces. I stopped by the bar to collect money he’d owed me after my date with Izzie. He looked strung out, most likely on drugs again. Whatever he won gambling would usually go back into my pocket on poker nights. I shouldn’t have taken money from him, given his connections, but he was a sure thing, and I liked a guarantee. Plus, EJ was impossible to say no to, considering we had been friends since we were five years old.

  I slid off the stool as Ma seated a couple in the dining area. Walking into the kitchen, I pushed the double doors open, blowing a hot breeze across my cheeks. Our head chef, Marco, had the burners going, several pots boiling to the point that they were about to spill over.