Page 48 of Corrupt Me

He drains the rest of his drink, slams the empty glass on the coffee table, and marches in my direction. Gripping my chin, he leans in. “If he touches you, I’ll kill him right then and there. Don’t play games with me, Bailey.”

“Or what?”

“Test me and see what happens.”

Turning on my heel, I leave him to stew in his anger. It’s only a few moments later that I hear the front door slam and a car peel out of the driveway.

Do I change? No.

Eric gushes over me once I’m out of the house, but Hunter’s threat still echoes in my mind. I have a bad feeling, and sure enough, when we get to the restaurant, Hunter is already there with a girl.

I don’t see red, I see an inferno. It’s a wonder my flaring nostrils don’t emit fire to burn him to a crisp.

“I thought I’d never get rid of him,” Eric says, sounding relieved, but I’m too busy glaring at the brunette with Hunter. It’s clear he has a type. Why can’t I get that info to stick in my head and stop this—whatever it is: disillusion, dream, desire? My 3D of ruin. And if I add him in? 4D—the dick.

It’s a small but intimate Italian restaurant with white tablecloths and candles lit on each table. Holding my clutch in front of me, we walk through the packed dining room as the server brings us to our table. We’re seated next to Hunter and his date—a stunning brunette, with only a few inches of space separating us. Such a coincidence. Not.

“You look amazing. Love that you dressed up for me,” Eric says as I slip into my seat. Guys like him have that “I could conquer the world” confidence but lack any real substance—unshakable until things get serious, and then they run to Daddy for help.

Hunter snakes his hand up my thigh. I jump, my knee bumping into the table. I steal a glance at him, but he doesn’t even grimace.

This is going to be a long and torturous night.

I keep telling myself this date isn’t real, that Bailey isn’t interested in this scumbag. But every time he leers at her, my pulse pounds like a war drum, each beat echoing in my ears. I imagine hollowing his eyes out. Any second now, a vein might burst.

I need to calm down, but madness tears at my sanity. Every instinct in me demands to claim her as mine. Bloody hell, I am fucked. Thoroughly.

My hand has a mind of its own as I palm her knee, sliding it along until I reach the apex of her thighs. Feeling her smooth skin under my palm instantly eases me.

Eric keeps babbling on and on, just like my date, who talks animatedly. I have no idea what she’s even talking about. Without the incessant chatter, I would have forgotten Lina was there, but I needed a reason to be here. She was the last girl to text me, and when I asked her out with five minutes’ notice, she replied immediately and was ready on time. Girls should never accept such short and out-of-the-blue invites. It only means the guy is not interested in them—just in what he could get from them. I am using her, and I should be sorry for that, but I don’t have it in me. When it comes to Bailey, I’d cross any boundary.

Bailey glares at the girl before she redirects her attention to her date, nodding occasionally. He hasn’t stopped talking. When I am with her, I just want to hear her soft, melodic voice, not mine. My date does the same, and I groan or nod my replies, pushing through this night.

If Bailey doesn’t stop doing this, I won’t either. It’s not a fucking competition because my goal is not to make her jealous, even though I enjoy how she scrutinizes Lina when she thinks I am not paying attention.

I palm her thigh, giving a gentle squeeze, wanting to assure her that I don’t want other girls. Ever since I came to Greenville, she’s all I see and all I think about. She yanked open that one-way door to my heart, lighting the black void in my chest—my sunshine and the pain in my ass.

“How about we take this somewhere more private?” Lina asks me, voice dripping with innuendo. Bailey stiffens beside me, her spine going steel straight.

Girls have always seen me as a good time in bed. Is there something about me that says I’ll fuck you good enough that you’d forget about the fact it’s a mistake? A girl once told me I ooze that unconquerable vibe, and girls are a sucker for being the exception.

I offer Lina a rehearsed side grin, not blatantly telling her no because I have a date to see through. Even though I’d rather be anywhere else with Bailey. It’s getting harder to stay away from her. Each passing day seems like a battle I am losing while she single-handedly marches through my defense lines.

“I would like to meet your parents,” Eric says, and I picture grabbing the knife on their table and stabbing it into his skull. That will never happen, fucker.

I will kidnap her ass if she insists on giving him false hopes. I don’t like him ogling her, and I hate how he seems to have their entire future planned out. There’s just something about him that irks me.

There is more than just blatant obsession, and it doesn’t seem to be a ploy on his part. What the fuck would Felix want from her? This question with no answer has me teetering on the edge.

I order another drink, and the girl says, “You’re old enough to drink? Wow, how cool.”

Great, now her interest in me is even more obvious. No one says no to us—the heirs of the Family. We have carte blanche on and off campus.

“He’s bad at respecting rules,” Bailey says to Lina, avoiding my glance. Drinking from her water, a drop glides down her chin. How I’d like to lick it off.

“Where would the appeal be in following orders? In London, I could drink at eighteen. And who’s going to stop me?” She should know better, but I guess my kitten is jealous.

“You’re not there any longer,” she reminds me, eyeing me intently.

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