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“I don’t miss that.”
“What do you miss, exactly?”
I hesitate, not sure how to explain it, but I try. “I miss the possibility. I miss… I miss the growth. All the newness. Yes, I know, the first few months are really hard, but that’s why we have money.”
“Good point,” he says, tilting his head. “I do know what you mean though. And you know how I feel about this.”
“More babies,” I say, nodding solemnly. “As many as you want. And how many is that, exactly?”
“We’ll see,” he murmurs. “More than two, I can promise you that.”
I sign happily. “Insatiable.”
“You know me.” He squeezes my ass. “Does this mean I can start coming between those lovely thighs of yours again?”
“Fortunately, yes.”
“Good girl.” He gently grips my hair. “Shall we start?”
“Finn!”
“Cillian’s with Sara. I think we’re free for another couple hours.” He stands, lifting me like I’m nothing. “I want to use every spare second.”
“I didn’t mean we’d start rightnow.”
“You should’ve been more specific then. It’s much too late to stop.” He kisses me deep and slow. “I’ve already made up my mind and you know how I get.”
“You’re one stubborn man.”
“Especially when it comes to you.”
I laugh as he carries me up to our bedroom.
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Preview: Beautiful Corruption
Chapter One: Brice
Seven Years Ago
Today would be perfect 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.
