Page 25 of Vow to Corrupt You (Gods of Corruption #1)

Serena

In the morning, I gather my belongings and leave Nikos’s residence.

I don’t have classes until the afternoon.

But after what happened last night at the restaurant, I can’t seem to find a place to decompress here.

The sinful images keep corrupting my mind.

What has happened to me? It was like something possessed my body, something wicked .

I call Chiara and ask her to meet me at one of our favorite coffee shops.

I sit at the table by the window, nervously tapping my fingers on its wooden surface.

Though the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hits my nostrils, my mind is consumed by the memories of last night.

The ring of my phone makes me nearly jump out of my skin, and the name on the screen actually does that to me.

“Hello?” I barely manage to mutter.

“Cecilia told me you left in haste,” Nikos’s deep, low voice rumbles on the other end of the line. “Where are you?” Cecilia is Romano’s main maid who’s been working for Nikos for at least two decades.

“Last time I checked, I didn’t need your permission to leave the house.

I’m your wife, not your prisoner, isn’t that right?

” I might sound sassy, but the words are almost lodged in my throat.

“Besides, your bodyguards won’t leave my side.

Don’t pretend you don’t know my every move, my exact location. ”

I can literally sense his growing smirk through the phone. “I’m pleased you’ve finally come to terms with your role as my wife.” There is a moment of silence before I hear his amused tone again. “Enjoy your coffee and your time with Chiara.” He hangs up.

I take a deep breath. Why does the mere sound of his voice make me feel this hot? How the hell did he manage to get into my head? Under my skin?

“Cousin!” Chiara’s cheerful voice snaps me out of my thoughts, providing a much-needed break from the turmoil in my mind.

She takes a seat opposite mine, and without further delay, she starts her interrogation.

“What’s going on? To say you sounded troubled over the phone would be an understatement. ”

My eyes roll back in my head, but I know she’s right. I exhale a shaky breath, trying to gather my racing thoughts as I pass the black coffee I ordered for her across the table.

“It’s about Nikos…”

“Did he hurt you?” Chiara leans toward me, agitation brewing in her eyes like the coffee being made for other customers.

“No,” I frown, “not physically.”

Chiara gives me a confused look.

“Not mentally either, I mean…” I mumble, stumbling over my own words. I don’t even know how to verbalize it.

“Are you developing feelings for him?” She leans in slightly, a twinkle of amusement and intrigue in her expression.

“I think it’s more of a physical attraction.” I feel my cheeks flushing red. “More along the lines of lust.”

“And?” Her mouth curves slightly as if she’s mildly entertained. “Where do you see a problem? You’re attracted to your husband. I mean, it could’ve been worse. He could be hideous to look at.”

“That’s the thing, because problem is, I don’t want to feel that way.” I cover my face with my hands. “It’s like whenever he’s around, my body refuses to listen… His touch feels… intoxicating. It’s infuriating,” I whisper-shout.

The slight smile of enjoyment on Chiara’s mouth is still there, but I try to ignore it. “Nikolaos is incredibly handsome. I think it’s just expected that you feel this way.”

“Handsome as he may be, it’s not enough. It can’t outweigh his disturbing tendencies.”

“ Can’t , or you don’t want it to?”

I stare at my cousin, searching for an answer to her question anywhere in the depths of her whiskey-colored eyes.

“I don’t want it to…” I let out a breath of guilt, resignation? It could be either. “I know what kind of man he is, what he’s capable of.”

“Nothing any other man in the Mafia isn’t.

” I feel like my cousin is more used to living in the mafia world.

Despite my papà being involved with the Mafia and me literally growing up surrounded by mafia men, he’s always tried to keep us and this side of his life as far apart as possible.

Or perhaps I refused to accept that my father works for the Mafia—that he, in fact, is a criminal.

I tried to block it from my thoughts, living in denial, while Chiara has always accepted things for what they were.

Besides, her brother has always wanted to climb the mafia ladder and become someone significant, like their father once was.

He’d take Chiara wherever he could so she could meet influential men in that sphere.

I’ve always had the impression that Domenico would love to marry her off for his own gain.

He’d be thrilled to know Aric is not only in the Mafia, but actually a member of an immensely influential and dangerous secret society.

Perhaps he knows? I mean, people talk. There might be some rumors among the Mafia members about the society?

Or is it so exclusive only the Gods will ever know?

“You know I’m right.” Chiara gives me that satisfied look, and my shoulders slump and lips purse.

I know she is right again, but the reality of this situation goes against everything I believe in…

“I don’t want to have a cold-blooded, brutal, merciless…

” I struggle to find enough words to describe the ruthless gangster my husband is.

Finally, I give up. “I don’t want someone so evil, and who is a killer.

I want a Prince Charming who brings light into my life and loves me for myself, and not because of some contract he signed. ”

“Are you sure that was what you want, Serena? Or perhaps that’s what you thought was the right thing to have?”

“Well…” I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that myself, and that’s the issue. I’m battling between what I truly want and what is right to want. This is what Nikolaos Romano does to a person.

“Serena, look. You shouldn’t feel guilty for being attracted to Nikolaos. We can’t choose who we are attracted to. Physical desire is a part of being human. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Wisdom’s practically oozing out of my cousin today. But she’s right. A-fucking-GAIN.

“Perhaps it’s a start,” Chiara smiles.

“A start?”

“Of your new era.” She lifts her chin. “The era of Serena Romano, the most formidable Mafia Queen Italy has ever known.”

We giggle, though deep down, I think I’m starting to like the idea.

At night, I lie on my bed, supporting myself on my right hand while holding a book in my left, deeply engrossed in the philosophy of art.

The sessions have come out in full swing, and we have to prepare an essay for Mr. Lombardi’s class—he’s one of the tough ones, extremely demanding and hard to please.

A few soft, yet firm, knocks at the door, followed by a familiar deep voice rumbling in my ears, make my heart skip a few beats.

I peek over my shoulder to see Nikos already inside my room, slowly walking toward me.

He seems different—more human and handsome—in a simple, though, of course, black T-shirt and sweatpants.

“Sometimes I forget you’re still a student,” he murmurs, resting against a bedpost, his hands in his pockets. “What are you reading?”

“Philosophy of art.” I close the book and put it aside on my nightstand, automatically getting off the bed, feeling like if I stayed in meant I felt threatened, and face Nikos. My hands link, fingers fidgeting.

“One of my old friends owns an art gallery that hosts sculpture exhibitions, and the next one is taking place in a week. He’ll be displaying Alessandro Ferrara’s work.” A trace of a smile twitches at his lips. “Would you like to go?”

“Alessandro Ferrara’s? Are you kidding? He’s not only the most renowned sculptor in Italy, but also my all-time favorite artist I’ve always looked up to!” I barely contain my excitement. “It would be like a dream come true to attend his exhibition!”

“Perfect, then it’s a date.” He throws me a playful wink that affects me more than it should.

He pushes himself off the bedpost and makes his way toward the door.

“Thank you,” I say hastily, trying to stop him in his tracks. Am I disappointed he’s already leaving?

He whirls to face me again and cocks his head in his signature way, just staring at me.

“Is there… anything you wanted?” I play with my fingers, still not knowing what to do with myself.

This man is like an enigma to me. A contradiction.

One moment, he vows to break me and does everything he can to give me severe anxiety or drive me insane; the next, he’s acting like the Prince Charming I’ve always wanted.

But I am a contradiction myself. One moment, I hate him, and I wish I’d never have to see him again, the next…

I yearn for his presence, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes when he looks at me, the sound of his husky voice, the intoxicating scent, the…

“I just wanted to see my wife before I go to sleep.” His teasing tone jolts me back from my thoughts: aka, the list of things that undeniably attract me to him. What a disaster.

“How lovely of you, husband ,” I tease back, and his lips stretch into a smug arc at the term.

The moment feels so mundane, so refreshing.

Is this what normal couples have? Teasing conversations, checking in on each other before sleep— no, normal couples sleep together.

But this is what I long for… those little vanilla moments, seemingly insignificant, actually remarkable.

It’s moments like these that are the base of a relationship that builds a bond between couples.

“Niko!” an angry shout breaks the invisible thread of what seems like a semblance of warmth growing between us. “Niko, where are you?” Dimitris barges into my bedroom, labored breath, sweat over his furrowed brows.

“What happened?” Nikos swiftly turns to his uncle. The sudden darkness in his voice gives me chills.

“All hell broke loose,” Dimitris breathes out, and I notice blood on his arm seeping into the white fabric of his woolen shirt. “The Castros. They are here.”