Page 34 of Vow to Corrupt You (Gods of Corruption #1)

Serena

I approach Mr. Lombardi after class, holding my test with a bold, thick, red F written across the paper.

Given the recent changes in my life, I know I wasn’t the best student this session—not anymore, at least. But I knew I’d spent hours studying for that test, and I couldn’t write it so poorly that I’d fail it.

“Yes, Miss Conti?” The professor looks at me. “Excuse me, Mrs. Romano?”

Why do I sense a shift in him ever since I changed my last name? Even now, he says it with such disdain. I get it that Nikos has many enemies. But what could my professor possibly have against the mob?

“With all due respect, Mr. Lombardi, but did you read my essay?” I feel a wave of nervousness surge through my body. I hate confrontations of any sort. “I feel like I thoroughly addressed the topic and proved my point.”

He lets out an irate breath, glancing at my test. “It seems you did not, Mrs. Romano. Next time, try harder.”

He gathers his belongings from the wooden desk, heads toward the door, and I follow him.

“Could you please, at least, justify your opinion? Give me some guidance. I thought it was—”

He turns to me as he reaches the door, shutting it.

Icy chills sweep down the length of my spine as I realize we’re completely alone in the classroom.

Why would he close the door?

My heart tumbles in my ribcage.

He stares at me with a coldness that could freeze the entire building.

“Perhaps you should try harder next time, Mrs. Romano. The name will not grant you the education. We are not influenced by your husband’s power here.”

My eyes narrow compulsively. “What are you talking about? I don’t count on my husband’s power. Quite the opposite.”

He shoots me a scornful glance. “Is that so? Because to me, it seems like you are doing the bare minimum ever since you married that,” he clears his throat, “man.”

Okay, now I’m sure he has something personal against Nikos. But what?

He opens the door and intends to leave, but I rest my hand against it, preventing him from doing so.

“What is it that you have against my husband?”

His brow twitches, and his tongue moistens his lips as he turns to face me again. “Nothing against him. I wouldn’t dare.”

“Okay, then is it about me?”

“You hurt my son’s feelings,” he finally says.

I take a step back, completely floored by his confession.

Who the hell is his son? It’s not Claudio; I know his father.

“Raffaele,” he speaks, and my eyes widen. “He’s been waiting for you to give him a chance, but instead, you sought power, didn’t you?”

“Raffaele is your son?” I completely ignore his insult, too shocked by the news. “But his last name isn’t Lombardi.”

“He has his mother’s last name, but I do not need to explain myself to you, Mrs. Romano.” He accentuates the last name.

“Neither do I, Mr. Lombardi.” My chin rises as I regard him with indignation. “I haven’t sought power. Far from it. But I might file a formal complaint with the university for harassment.”

His jaw clenches, and he snatches the paper from my hands. “I’ll have a look at it again.”

“Wise choice.” I smile.

“Serena, are you joining us for the party tonight?” Bianca, one of my classmates, shouts after me as I’m about to get into Chiara’s car.

I look at my cousin. The embarrassed expression on her face tells me she knew about it but didn’t mention it—for obvious reasons. I am the wife of Nikos Romano. I am not allowed to attend the same parties my peers do. I am a prisoner of my marriage, effective immediately.

I turn back to Bianca, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’ll be there. Thanks.”

“Of course,” she states before pivoting away.

“What are you doing, Serena?” Chiara scowls at me as I bang the door of her Lancia shut after I slide in.

“I’m going to a party like any normal student my age would.” I offer her my most deadly stare.

She scoffs, her head shaking in disbelief. “But you’re not any other girl, Serena. You’re the wife of the most dangerous man around here. The leader of the fucking Mafia.”

“So what?” I release the frustration. “Am I not allowed to lead a normal life now? Am I supposed to lock myself in the prison that is my husband’s luxurious residence with a fucking helipad, and cut myself off from the world outside?”

Chiara’s shoulders slump, and concern paints her face as the tears I’ve so desperately tried to hold back escape from the corner of my eyes. My emotions take over and break free, craving liberation—just like I do. Everything has its limits. Everything and everyone.

“You’re right.” Chiara pulls away. “We’re going to my place to get ready and then go to the party.”

Within twenty minutes, we arrive at Chiara’s place.

I talk with my cousin and Chiara’s brother, Domenico, before we rummage through her closet.

There’s a moment when a pang of jealousy passes through me, realizing how independent Chiara is.

How much freedom she has, and how different her lifestyle is from mine.

I shifted from living under the rules of strict parents to being controlled by a possessive husband.

Rules and restrictions are a theme of my life.

But now it’s time for rebellion.

As we arrive at Bianca’s, where the party is taking place, I hang up the leather blazer I wore because it’s pretty chilly outside.

Under my blazer, I’d put on a leather bustier top with gold-strap detailing and high-waisted, flared pants.

I stick to black. I guess I am unconsciously drawn to the color.

Chiara is a size bigger than me, with more prominent curves and a fuller bust, but we managed to find some clothes that fit me.

She went for a short, long-sleeved sequined corset dress.

“Serena, you made it!” Bianca greets me with an air kiss on the cheek, holding a bottle of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She does the same with Chiara before winking in my direction. “Have fun, girls! Enjoy the night!”

My cousin wraps her arm around mine and leads me to the living room like she’s been here a hundred times before.

I must’ve missed a lot of these parties since starting at university.

We squeeze through the crowd of people laughing, chatting, and dancing.

Someone along the way hands me a bottle of beer I’m not even sure I want.

I feel so out of place. Everyone seems so carefree, savoring the night, while I feel stiff like a broomstick.

The rock music blares so loudly that I can hardly hear my thoughts.

It was a bad idea to come. The truth is, I’d rather be at home with a good book or locked in my sculpting room.

“I know that look,” Chiara nudges my elbow, urging me to take a swig of the beer in my hand. “Drink. Relax. Have fun. That’s why you came here, no?”

I lift the bottle reluctantly, and the bitter aroma wafts to greet me.

Beer has never been my preference. Yet, as the minutes tick by, the alcohol begins to weave its magic.

The initial unease fades, and a sense of looseness spreads through me.

Soon, I am swept up in the rhythm of the crowd, moving and swaying with abandon.

Next thing I know, we down tequila shots, each burning like fire as it slides down my throat but igniting a flame of much-craved carefreeness.

Before long, I find myself dancing on a table, Chiara beside me.

We both brandish bottles like trophies while the world spins in a blur.

We dance, we sing, we have fun. Finally, I feel at ease.

Finally, I let go of all the worries, troubles, and threats. Like a normal twenty-one-year-old.

But then, I feel someone’s hot breath on my neck and intrusive hands on my body. I turn to find Raffaele. He’s close, too close, and it makes me feel uneasy. I need my space. Instinctively, I push his hands away from my hips and slip outside to cool down.

I lean against the building, the cool air brushing my reddened cheeks. Relief. Finally, there’s no one around, no pounding music—just me and the space I need.

“Serena, hey.” Raffaele followed me. My heart races as I straighten up to see him stepping closer.

“I need a moment.” I attempt to move past him, but before I can, I’m pinned against the wall, his frame looming over me, hands on either side of my head.

“You’re hot, you know?” he murmurs in a way that makes my skin crawl. “I’ve always wanted to date you.”

“Raffaele,” I shake my head, clinging to the wall so hard as I try to sink into it. “I’m married, and I told you to stay away.”

“My father mentioned your conversation.” Right, his father —the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

They’re both equally intrusive. “And people have said that you didn’t marry for love.

” He brushes the back of his fingers down my cheek.

His touch is as unsettling as it is paralyzing.

“We could run away together. Leave everything behind. We could even leave the country.”

“What are you talking about? You’re clearly drunk.” I go to push him away, but he leans closer, gripping my arms with a hold so strong it hurts. “Let me go! You’re hurting me.”

“I know you want this.” He presses me into the wall, leaving me no room to escape, no matter how hard I try to yank away. “I can help you escape your husband,” he whispers against my lips, attempting to kiss me.

“Stop!” I writhe against him.

Suddenly, all the alcohol in me evaporates, and I’m sobered by fear. My pulse races as I feel trapped and scared. I can’t even bear to think of the possible outcomes—they’re all dark and dangerous in my mind.

Raffaele grips my chin tightly, his thumb pressing hard on one side, his index finger digging into the other, forcing my lips to part.

A wave of panic crashes over me like a tidal wave.

His eyes are ominous, devoid of the kindness I once knew.

Now, all I see is an oppressor I desperately want to escape from. Except I can’t. He’s too strong.

“I waited for you while you wasted your time on that dumbass boyfriend who didn’t even respect you,” he snarls, his voice dripping with such venom that suffocates me with fear.

“But I was waiting, giving you the chance to notice me, but you never did. Instead, you married a ruthless psycho, a murderer who has power only because he slaughters people.”

“That’s true,” a dark yet familiar voice rumbles in my ears, “and you’ve just jumped to the top of my list of people I’m going to kill.”