I hooked my arm around Silvia’s skinny bicep, leading her into the hall. “We’re meeting the Delta Sig guys at Mickey’s later, so wear something hot.”
She squealed with delight, her elbow digging into my side, as we scooted closer to make room in the crowded hallway. “Yum. I got dibs on Hunter Sterling.”
“The chunky lineman?” I scrunched my nose at her. “He’s all yours.”
Silvia bobbed her head, unaffected by my sarcasm. “You’ve gotta admit, he’s still hot even though he’s gained a few pounds. I mean, how do you not want to grip those arms and straddle him?”
I rolled my eyes and climbed the stairs to our double suite, sliding my fingers up the wooden railing. “I hate rich guys. They’re all cut from the same cloth. Why would you even want him? He’s a total Preston.”
Silvia ducked to the side, trying to avoid a group of girls scampering in our direction. “Maybe, but they’re not like the rest of the frat boys, Izzie Bear. Most of them are from around here, not like those pricks over at the Alpha house with their boat shoes and cardigans. The things I’ve heard about some of the Delta Sig guys, I swear, would blow your mind.”
“I seriously doubt any of them could blow my mind.” Well, maybe Luca could, but I kept that to myself. “Let’s not talk about them. Now that I’m on Luca’s radar, he’s never going to stop bothering me.” I stuffed the room assignment paper in my pocket and pointed at our new two-bedroom suite. “I have a better idea. As soon as we get our stuff unpacked, we should have a little afternoon pick-me-up. Coffee with a little Sambuca sounds good right about now.”
Silvia turned the key and pushed open the door to our room, and we stepped inside. “Nah, Irish coffee all the way, babe. I’ve got a bottle of whiskey in the trunk we can work with.”
I held up my fist, and Silvia bumped hers against it with a goofy smile splayed on her face.
“Cheers to that,” I said, planning to drink away my past feelings for Luca. He broke my heart when we were kids. I wasn’t about to let him do it again.
Luca
Ma always told me, “When you know, you know.”
And, when I saw Izzie, something spoke to me. Not just because of my uncontrollable physical reaction to her. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I had to have her. She was my bella donna, the beautiful woman I wasn’t about to let slip away. The angry scowl on her face, the way her lips had curled at me in revulsion, was so hot. For the first time, a chick had hated me and for no apparent reason. Her disgust only made me want to show her the real Luca Marchese.
After all the classes I’d spent staring at her, she’d finally given me the time of day. Our families had severed ties when we were younger, for reasons that were beyond both of our control, but she hadn’t even glanced in my direction or acknowledged that we knew each other when I saw her on campus.
She was the princess of Strickland University and heiress of Rinaldi Holdings, and to me, she was untouchable. Every guy on campus wanted her. She was the Rolls-Royce of women, the unattainable, rare flower we all wanted to pluck.
For the first time in four years, I had a shot with this chick, but in all honesty, she scared the crap out of me.
She bore a striking resemblance to Kate Hudson with her sun-kissed skin, flawless complexion, and loose blonde curls framing her soft jawline. She was a real natural beauty, too. Her hair was a perfect mixture of honey and wheat, and her matching light brows were set above wide blue eyes, begging me to notice her. She had the girl-next-door vibe with porn-star tits. I would kill to get my hands on her mounds of perky flesh. And those lips, full and luscious, had made it hard for me to concentrate as she smacked them together at me in disapproval.
I could not stop thinking about her. I covered my erection with the football, trying to visualize anything other than her tight ass, as she disappeared into Jefferson Hall. I ran through preseason football stats and the Phillies latest win against the Dodgers to keep my dirty mind from fantasizing about her. On the plus side, at least I now knew where she lived.
Hunter Sterling, my fraternity brother, tapped me on the shoulder. He flipped his sunglasses up and slid them on top of his buzzed light-brown hair. “Holy shit, bro. Was that a mirage?”
Next to him, Mark Montgomery, my other partner in crime, nodded. “I know, right? Fuck me.” He bit down on his fist, still staring at the door, even though Izzie was long gone. “The princess finally stepped down from her throne to talk to the commoners.” He sucked in a deep breath and stuffed his hand in his pocket. “Man, what I’d like to do to her.”
“Yeah, I hear ya,” I said, also hoping Izzie and Silvia would come back. “I wouldn’t mind bending them over my couch a few times.” After I said the words, I realized I didn’t mean them. I wanted to stake claim on Izzie, not so much her friend.
Sexy as hell in a rock ’n’ roll sort of way, Silvia was one of the few seniors none of us had hooked up with. From what I’d heard, she was a real cocktease. She’d party like a rock star, dancing with her dress hiked over her hips, but she never put out.
I didn’t chase girls. There was no reason to seek them out when they’d stumble through our frat house every weekend. Izzie, on the other hand, I would follow her to the ends of the earth, if she let me.
It was no secret that girls flocked to frat guys, but Delta Sigma Phi, by far, bagged a lot of the girls on campus. They’d gravitate to me more than my brothers and for all the wrong reasons. Somehow, they thought it would give them their five minutes of fame.
Everyone who lived within a hundred-mile radius of Philadelphia knew the Marchese family. On occasion, the Philadelphia Inquirer would manage to get a shot of my brothers. A few times, they’d had the nerve to snap a picture of me leaving one of my father’s restaurants. That had led to headlines and questions I’d felt uncomfortable answering. And it was the main reason girls would get the boot after one night. I couldn’t risk someone getting too close. In my world, outsiders couldn’t be trusted, and only women accustomed to the life would gain access to our inner circle.
Mark dug his elbow into my ribs, snapping me out of my head. “You gonna share the wealth this time, bro?”
I snickered and slammed the ball against his chest, and he adjusted himself. Shit, my dick was at half-mast, too.
And, baby, we salute you.
I loved women. I respected the hell out of them. It was just that relationships took too much work. And there was plenty of fresh meat parading through campus to settle down.
Mark smirked, tugging at the edge of his T-shirt. “You can’t tell me, you don’t wanna hit that.”
For some reason, I felt an odd sense of irritation at his comment. Why did it bother me to hear him talk about Izzie in that way when I had been thinking the same damn thing? What a hypocrite.
“I didn’t say that.” I glared at him as we started walking toward the rest of our brothers. “All I’m saying is, that girl wouldn’t let you within ten feet of her, and if she did, she’d probably rip your dick off.”
Mark laughed and nudged Hunter with his elbow, knocking the big oaf into a flagpole in the middle of the Quad. “That sounds like a challenge to me. Silvia’s been following Hunter around since our sophomore year.” He held his hand out to Hunter. “You wanna help me out, bro?”
“Yeah, sure.” Hunter shrugged, his eyes focused on the mass of people in the courtyard. His lack of a reaction was as close to a response as we could expect. Tall and beefy, he had a few inches on Mark and me. And, compared to last year, he was sporting a serious beer belly.
On our way back to our house, Penny Baldwin darted across the lawn flanked by her sorority sisters. She was toned yet slender, and her hips had a gentle sway, but she did nothing for me, even in a skimpy pink bikini. She was girl-next-door, pretty with long blonde hair straightened over her shoulders. The permanent frown she wore was a real boner killer—as in, no amount of porn or Viagra could wake me from the dead when she was around. She could castrate a man with one glance, an
d no matter the occasion, she always looked pissed off.
“Hey, Luca.” Penny stroked my arm with her French tips, forcing a smile.
She had a crush on me, but whatever her issues were with men or life in general, I wanted no part of it. Still, I had to play nice since she was president of Kappa Delta.
“Penny”—I nodded—“what’s up?”
Penny glanced at two of her sorority sisters, shooting them a knowing look, and turned back to face me. “Were you talking to Isabella Rinaldi?”
I cleared my throat and stood taller, more confident. “Yeah. Why?”
“Do you think you could talk to her for me? I’ve been trying to get an internship at her grandfather’s company for months, but that place is harder to get into than Fort Knox.”
“Why don’t you have your dad make a call?”
She pushed her hands onto her hips, a defiant smirk on her lips. “Because I’d like to do something without his help for once. Does it matter? Will you help me or not?”
Rinaldi Holdings bought up companies like they were penny stocks. They’d strip them and sell them off for millions. But the real money, the kind that took centuries to spend, came from Pennsylvania steel. The Rinaldis were the wealthiest family in Pennsylvania with global business contacts, including the Mafia.
Izzie had no idea how much we had in common, that I wasn’t just a rich brat or a common street thug. I came from a long line of wiseguys, made men from poor Sicilian roots who learned if you want the American dream you had to take it. Men like Angelo Rinaldi understood the way it’d worked back in the old country. Izzie’s grandfather had helped my father legitimize some of our business transactions.
I doubted Izzie knew how deep our families’ corruption ran, bleeding into one another. Despite her invite to the bar, she’d looked at me like I was scum under her shoe, not a worthy opponent. She underestimated the Marchese charm. Izzie’s anger had radiated off her, but I loved it.
Penny stepped closer, as though she were about to touch me, and I took a few steps back. I hated how she would make it a point to run her nails along my skin every time we spoke.
“Izzie and Whitney from Zeta are friends. Why don’t you ask Whitney to hook you up?”
She gave me the evil eye, typical Penny move. “Yeah, but Whitney’s annoying, and Izzie looked pretty cozy on your lap.”
I snorted in an attempt to stifle my laughter. An impish grin played across my lips. “Fine, I’ll talk to her.”
“Don’t be an asshole.” Penny pointed a long, bony finger at me and pressed it into my chest. She was much stronger than she looked. “Capiche?”
I managed to choke back my laughter as I straightened my stance. At six foot three, I had only a few inches on Penny.
“Capiche,” I mumbled.
Penny beamed with excitement, and without another word, she stomped off. Her sisters followed behind, flicking hair over their shoulders as they passed.
Knowing Izzie wanted no part of me turned me on, and now I had an excuse to talk to her again. I seriously doubted she would be at Mickey’s tonight. It had been a long time since my last challenge. Game on.
Izzie
For our first order of business, Silvia and I decided to unbox the coffeemaker and open a bottle of Sambuca. We dumped the storage containers around the suite, on our beds, and in our closets, and then we plopped down on the couch.
With the bottle in hand, Silvia gave us each a shot glass worth.
I tipped my coffee to hers. “Salute.”
“Salute.” She sank into the thin cushions of our gray microfiber couch, burying her head in the pillows. “I’m so exhausted right now. I could fall asleep standing up.”
I laughed at her theatrics. “Good thing you’re not standing.” I took a sip of the coffee flavored liqueur and leaned over to slide a pot holder under the carafe on the table. “C’mon, drink up.”
She let out a big gulp of air, the steam blowing off her mug. “I’m waiting for it to cool down. It’s hot as balls.”
I snuggled against the arm of the sofa and turned on the flat screen on the wall.
The living room of our two-bedroom suite had couches facing one another, separated by a wooden coffee table. We had a small kitchen off to the left, a full-size bathroom to the right, and private bedrooms along the back wall. Each room had a double bed situated between two windows covered by dark gray curtains.
Face up on the coffee table, a copy of Philadelphia Magazine haunted me. Grandfather’s cold dark features stared back, giving me an eerie feeling, as though he were in the room with us. Even at a distance, he frightened me. He sat in a gold throne, dressed in a black Gucci suit, his elbow on the arm and his fist resting under his chin. Angelo Rinaldi III had the power to kill you with one look.
The headline read, Everything Rinaldi Touches Turns to Gold.
That part was true, given his string of successful mergers and acquisitions. He had taken his father’s profitable holding company and turned it into a multibillion-dollar conglomerate. One day, that would be my legacy—sitting atop my seat of power while glaring beneath me as my cold heart devoured everyone around me. I didn’t want to turn into Grandfather, but I had a feeling that the Rinaldi aura would settle so far beneath my skin, it would creep into my bones.
I came from a long line of assholes. There was no nice way to say it. Philadelphia Magazine had done a four-page spread on how our family made our money. Of course, they’d left out the real story—the one that would have blown the lid off our secrets, the story only a handful of people knew. Investors wouldn’t take too kindly to racketeers investing their hard-earned money.
I chugged half the mug, the warm liquid running down my throat, and threw the magazine on the floor with a sigh. “Luca’s such a Preston. I can’t believe I offered to let him meet up with us. Can we go somewhere else instead?”
“Five years later, and you still call all guys Preston. It’s time to come up with a new name. And there’s no way in hell you’re canceling. I’ve been wanting to hook up with Hunter since sophomore year. Don’t ruin this for me.”
“They’re all Prestons. The more money they have, the worse they are. It’s just a fact.”
Silvia had dated dozens of men like Luca and Hunter. For illustration’s sake, I would call them Preston, after the first snobby rich kid who had broken her heart. Even his name, Preston Greyson, screamed pretentious. I mean, c’mon.
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 tabl
e.
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.
Teach (City of Sinners Book 1) Page 15