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Chapter1
Brice
Seven Years Ago
Today would beperfect if it weren’t for Carmine Scavo. He’s looking at me like he wants to kill me or kiss me or both and probably in that order.
I refuse to let him get to me. The afternoon light feels like candy on my skin. It’s the kind of day that makes getting a sunburn sound like a good idea. The baseball field on the edge of campus is packed with spectators drinking cold beer from coolers. I kick infield dirt and fidget with my glove, not really sure what I’m doing, but happy to be doing anything as the breeze blows through my carefully braided hair and my meticulously white outfit.
I’m not very athletic, but the mysterious and exclusive Atlas Student Organization arranged a series of softball games between the various undergraduate clubs to help local low-income families afford diapers and baby food and stuff like that. Since it’s a good cause, I signed up with the drama club and agreed to play second base, even though I have no clue how.
At least I was good at selling tickets and managed to bring in the most money of anyone else, and I heard Laurie Middleton bought ten dozen with her own cash.
“Look alive, Brice,” Robyn says from over at shortstop, or at least I think that’s shortstop. She jogs over as Sara stretches on the pitcher’s mound and the new batter gets in some practice swings. “You’ve got a man on first and he’s looking at you like he wants to rip your head off.”
I glance over again and Carmine Scavo’s staring back at me with those handsome dark eyes of his. Carmine’s big, muscular, covered in tattoos, and looks like a model as sweat glistens on his skin. He’s one of the Atlas members and I’ve avoided him for the past two years, but I always catch him around at the various parties and functions, sometimes staring at me with a creepy intensity. We’ve never spoken, but I’ve heard rumors: connected, dangerous, deadly, scary. He’s handsome, but terrifying, and I do my best to keep my distance.
There are two worlds at Blackwoods: the upper-crust elite, born with silver spoons, blue-blooded, trust-fund babies, that sort of thing, and then there are the scions of dark money, the sons of mafia dons, the children of dictators. I’m from the former, and Carmine’s from the latter, and I do my best to keep my distance from men like him.
Grandpa warned me once on the eve of my freshman year:There are people at Blackwoods you’d better not meet. Be careful of them, Brice.
Sara shoots us a look as she pounds the ball into her glove. “Quit chatting, you two,” she says sharply and cracks her neck. “I’m going to strike this fucker out.”
Robyn laughs, punches my arm a little bit too hard, and jogs back to her spot as Sara goes into her windup. The batter, a big handsome guy named Evander Kazan, smirks at Sara like he wants to pummel her to death. And he probably does. He’s another one of those guys I do my best not to mingle with.
Sara’s first pitch is a ball. I glance over and Carmine’s still staring at me. He has a small lead off the bag and doesn’t seem particularly interested in what’s happening. His eyes don’t stray from mine when I meet his gaze and a chill runs down my spine. Most people would turn away when they get caught looking like that, but it only seems to embolden Carmine. What the heck is with this guy? He tilts his head, a little smile on his lips. Sara pitches again, another ball. I try not to glance at Carmine, but I can’t help myself. He’s terrifying and magnetic and everything I’m supposed to avoid.
The next time I turn my head, he gives me a small wave.
I wave back, feeling like an idiot.
He mouths to me,Having fun?His eyebrows raise.
I sense a strange tingle in my stomach. It’s the same feeling I got when I did one of those shark-cage dives with my grandpa a few years back when I was in high school, like there’s something big in the water, and it’s hungry. I shake my head and look away, trying not to smile, as Sara grunts and releases a wicked pitch right at Evander.
But the big guy swings. He misses, but he must’ve screwed up the catcher, because the ball glances off her glove and careens toward the backstop. The crowd erupts with shouts and I barely have time to move over to second base, ready to catch the throw to try to stop Carmine from stealing, my heart racing, Robyn yelling something, the crowd screaming and screaming, and when I look up, he’s coming for me.
Six-foot-three, covered in muscles, and barreling down like a locomotive.
I don’t move, too stunned to do anything but stare at him, at the muscles in his arms and chest and the way he’s smiling, the way he’s absolutely freakinggrinninglike a madman, and it happens so fast.
One second, he’s sprinting to second base and I’m in the way, and the next he’s slamming into me like he’s playing football, and the world goes upside down as I smash into the ground with Carmine on top of me.
I don’t hear anything, only the steady thud of my heart and a high-pitched ringing. I have a headache suddenly, and lights bloom at the corners of my eyes. I have no clue what’s happening or how we got here, but I can’t seem to move. Carmine’s on top of me, breathing deeply. His heavy, bulky body holds me down on the infield, and I squirm to try to get out of the dirt, afraid that it’ll stain my clothes and ruin my hair. I smell his sweat, sharp and acidic, and the minty tang of his breath as his lips move against my neck.
His hands come up my flanks and I don’t know why but I’m breathing fast as his right palm takes hold of the side of my face, and he shoves my other cheek into the dirt, grinding my face into the sandy soil.
I sputter in shock, try to struggle, wriggling and pushing, but he pins me down and shoves my face harder. I feel the dirt grains in my cheek, in the corner of my mouth, on my tongue, god, it’s in myfreaking mouth, in my hair and the corner of my eye, and I groan in disbelief and disgust and overwhelming revulsion.
“There you go,” he whispers softly, eyes so wide they look white as I panic and try to get away, but he’s too freaking strong. “God, you’re so much prettier with a little dirt on you, you filthy fucking girl.”
I nearly scream, but hands grab him a moment later and haul him away, and Robyn’s there and Sara’s there, and they want to make sure I’m okay, but all I can do is try to clean the grime off my face, No matter how many times I wipe, I can’t seem to make it go away. Tears well up in my eyes, not because I’m hurt, although my back aches and my head’s a little dizzy, but because I feel so disgusting, so freaking contaminated and messy, and I can’t stand it.
His voice echoes in my mind. Nobody’s ever,everspoken to me like that before.Filthy fucking girl.
I shove my friends away, crying like an idiot, mortified. All I can see is Carmine grinning at me as people shout angrily at him, but he doesn’t seem to mind, not one bit.
He’s too busy staring at me.
