Beautiful Corruption


 
 
 
 
 
 
 Beautiful Corruption
 A Dark Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance
 
 
 
 
 
 BB Hamel
 
 
 
 
 
 Copyright © 2023 by B. B. Hamel
 All rights reserved.
 No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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 Contents
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 Trigger Warning
 
 
 
 
 1. Brice
 
 
 2. Brice
 
 
 3. Carmine
 
 
 4. Brice
 
 
 5. Carmine
 
 
 6. Brice
 
 
 7. Brice
 
 
 8. Carmine
 
 
 9. Brice
 
 
 10. Brice
 
 
 11. Carmine
 
 
 12. Brice
 
 
 13. Brice
 
 
 14. Brice
 
 
 15. Brice
 
 
 16. Brice
 
 
 17. Brice
 
 
 18. Carmine
 
 
 19. Brice
 
 
 20. Brice
 
 
 21. Carmine
 
 
 22. Brice
 
 
 23. Carmine
 
 
 24. Brice
 
 
 25. Carmine
 
 
 26. Carmine
 
 
 27. Brice
 
 
 28. Carmine
 
 
 29. Brice
 
 
 
 
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 Also by BB Hamel
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 Trigger Warning
 
 
 
 
 
 This book contains graphic descriptions of sexual content, explicit violence, drug use, and past trauma. These scenes were written to create a more vivid, in-depth experience, but may be triggering for some readers.
 
 Read at your own risk.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 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