Page 56 of Kings & Corruption

“Maybe I should sit in the back,” I muttered under my breath.

“No way,” Rock said. “Our girl doesn’t sit in the back. Our girl doesn’t hide. She doesn’t need to.”

I didn’t have time to debate his use of the phraseour girl. It was so certain, so… possessive. It should have annoyed the shit out of me. Instead, my pussy pulsed with hunger and I had to resist the urge to climb Rock like a tree.

He led me to the front row and waited while I got settled in one of the seats.

“See you after class,” he said.

“What? No. You don’t have to walk me around like a five-year-old on the first day of school.” He’d swung his dick around enough to make it clear I was with him, with the Kings. I wasn’t looking for a 24/7 escort.

He leaned down and kissed me on the lips before I knew what was happening. He even lingered there, the bastard, and I felt my mouth opening to him, felt the slide of his tongue on my lower lip.

My brain forgot we were surrounded by other students while my body screamedMORE!

He pulled away, grinning like he knew exactly what I was thinking. And he probably did. My face was hot. Hell, my whole body was on fire. I was surprised I didn’t melt into a puddle of goo then and there.

“See you after class, kitten.”

He walked away. No,walkedwasn’t the right word. The fuckerswaggered, like he’d just added another notch to his belt buckle right in front of everyone.

I sighed and dropped into my seat, my face flaming. I felt like I’d been picked up by a tornado. Like Dorothy, I’d been dropped into a world where nothing made sense, where a new threat was around every corner and they didn’t all look like threats.

Because Rock? Rock did things to my body that made me feel like I couldn’t trust myself any more than I could trust anyone else.

The side door to the lecture hall opened and a youngish guy walked across the stage toward a long desk where a laptop and projector were already set up. He was cute, with shaggy brown hair and enough scruff to look a little devilish.

He set down the stack of books and notebooks he’d been carrying. Then he took off his navy blazer and laid it across the table before scanning the lecture hall.

I watched as his gaze skimmed the crowd before coming to a stop on me. We locked eyes for a second, and I resisted the urge to squirm. Normally, I’d assume he was just a slightly older dude who saw something he liked.

It wasn’t unusual, for me or any girl my age.

But the fact that we were at Aventine made me wonder if he had some kind of stake in the criminal world too, if he knew who I was, knew what my dad had done.

Great. The last thing I needed was to be worried about the teachers hating me too.

“Good morning,” he said. “My name is Professor Ryan and I’ll be your teacher for Psych 101.”

He continued by explaining the curriculum and directing us to the Aventine portal to download the syllabus, and I spent the rest of the class focused on its requirements.

It felt good to think about something besides my family, besides Emma and what had happened to her, and I was surprised when he announced the end of class.

Everyone got up, gathering their stuff and talking as they made their way up the stairs and out the door. I took my time. Rock had clearly escorted me to class as a warning to the other kids — a warning I appreciated even if I did pretend to hate his and Oscar’s insistence on acting like my private security detail — but that didn’t mean I wanted to test its effectiveness.

My plan for the first few days was to fly under the radar, get the lay of the land.

That, and get some alone time with Claire so we could talk about Emma, because no way was I trusting my search for answers to the Kings, no matter how appealing Rock and Oscar were.

“How’s your first day going, Ms. Russo?”

I looked up and found Professor Ryan sitting at the edge of the lecture stage. He looked young and approachable, but I didn’t miss the way his eyes briefly roamed my body before returning to my face.

“This is my first class,” I said, “but so far, so good.”

He nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.” He hesitated. “I’m sure it’s… difficult.”

“Difficult?”

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