Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
And all he wants to do is corrupt me.
The first time we met, Carmine rubbed my face in dirt.
The second time, I found out my family was selling me to him.
And the third time, he promised to drag me down to his filthy level and expected me to like it.
Carmine is a gorgeous billionaire with dark mob ties and wickedly twisted taste, and my family is in horrible financial trouble. They’re desperate enough to take his money in exchange for my life.
Now I’m stuck engaged to a man that represents everything I hate. A man that wants to smear me with mud for his own sick pleasure. A man that thinks I’m too clean—and wants to make me dirty.
I’m nothing but a pawn to my family and a toy to Carmine.
But I have my own goals and I refuse to let my future husband ruin me.
I won’t survive to see my wedding night. But neither will Carmine.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
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.
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.