Chapter 1: The Announcement
The envelope felt too light in Jamie’s hands, a flimsy piece of paper that held the weight of her escape. It lay on the polished mahogany between her half-eaten lasagna and her father’s silent, assessing gaze. The Rossi family dining room wasn’t built for good news; it was a tribunal chamber dressed as a place for supper.
“University of Midvale,” she said, her voice trying not to squeak. “Full ride. Classics and Political Philosophy.”
Her mother, Elisa, beamed, reaching over to squeeze her hand. The diamonds on her fingers caught the chandelier light. “My brilliant girl. I knew you’d get it.”
Vinny didn’t look up from his plate. He sawed through his veal with a focus that turned the meat into a tactical problem. “Midvale. Party school. Frat row.”
“It’s a top-tier liberal arts college,” Jamie countered, her knuckles whitening around the envelope.
“It’s three hundred miles away,” Vinny said, finally setting his fork down. The clink was abnormally loud. “In a town where the strongest family runs a used car dealership and a meth lab. You think that’s a place for you?”
“For me, yes. For the daughter of Vincent Rossi? Probably not. But that’s the point.” The words were out before she could check them. The air in the room thickened, cooling by several degrees.
Their father, Vincent Senior, took a slow sip of his Barolo. He placed the glass down precisely in the ring of condensation it had left on the marble. “Your brother has a concern.”
“His concern is that I might have a life that doesn’t involve him looking over my shoulder,” Jamie muttered, pushing a stray bit of pasta around her plate.
Vinny’s chair scraped back. He stood, his shadow falling across the table. “My concern is that you are a Rossi. That name means something. It also makes you a target. You think you’re going to what, live in a dorm? Eat in a cafeteria? Walk across a dark campus after your study group?” He laughed, a short, brittle sound. “This isn’t a debate, Jamie. You’re not going alone.”
“I’m twenty-one.”
“And I’m the one who had to identify Uncle Paulie after they fished him out of the river,” Vinny snapped, his control slipping for a second, revealing the raw, fearful anger beneath. “You want to study Plato? Fine. You’ll do it with protection.”
Jamie looked to her mother, whose smile had faltered, and to her father, whose face was an unreadable monument. The decision had already been made in some back room, probably weeks ago. This dinner was just formality.
“What’s the plan, then? I get a team of suits trailing me to Intro to Ethics?”
“One person,” her father said, his voice a low rumble. “Someone young. Someone who can blend. Someone you already know.”
A side door swung open from the kitchen, and Luca Bianchi walked in as if he’d been waiting for his cue. Which, Jamie realized with a sinking heart, he had. He wasn’t in a suit tonight; just dark jeans and a charcoal henley that made him look like any other good-looking grad student. He offered a casual, apologetic smile to the table, but his eyes went straight to Jamie, glittering with a familiar, irritating amusement.
“Luca,” Vinny said, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’re up. You know the campus layout. You know the scene. You keep her in sight. You become part of the scenery.”
Luca nodded at Vinny, then turned the full force of his attention on Jamie. “Princess,” he said, the old childhood nickname landing with a new, weighted inflection.
Jamie felt a hot wave of humiliation. “This is ridiculous. Luca, you can’t be serious. You have… actual work to do.” She meant the other kind of work, the kind that left stains that didn’t wash out.
“This is actual work,” Luca said, his tone easy, but his gaze held a warning. “Highest priority. Keeping the family’s best asset safe.”
“I’m not an asset!”
“You are to me,” Vinny said, finality iron-clad in his voice. “It’s him, or it’s Marco. Or it’s me moving into the apartment next door. Choose.”
The threat was real. Marco would be a solemn, silent shadow. Vinny would be a prison warden. Luca… Luca knew how to have fun. He knew how to blend. He also knew exactly how to get under her skin. It was the least-worst option in a series of terrible ones.
She looked across the table at Luca, who gave her a slow, deliberate wink.
“Fine,” Jamie spat, the defeat tasting like ashes. “But he doesn’t sit in on my classes. He doesn’t comment on my friends. He’s a… a fixture. A piece of furniture.”
“A piece of furniture that carries a nine-millimeter,” Luca clarified, that disarming smile playing on his lips. “But yeah. I can be a couch. A very attentive couch.”
Vinny nodded, satisfied. The business was concluded. “Good. It’s settled. You leave in six weeks.”
The rest of the meal passed in a blur of strained small talk. Jamie barely tasted her food. All she could feel was the gilded cage of her life getting new, heavier bars. As dessert was cleared, she pushed back from the table and fled to the kitchen, needing air that didn’t smell of garlic and oppression.
She was at the sink, staring out at the dark, manicured garden, when the scent of his cologne hit her first—clean linen and something faintly spicy.
“You’re pissed,” Luca said, leaning against the Sub-Zero refrigerator beside her.
“You’re a genius.”
“It doesn’t have to be a nightmare, Jamie.”
She turned to face him. “You’re going to follow me to frat parties. You’re going to listen to me talk about my crushes. You’re going to report every single detail back to my brother. How is that not a nightmare?”
He moved closer, his playful demeanor shifting into something more intense, more real. The kitchen was shadowed, only the under-cabinet lights glowing. “What I report is my business. Vinny wants to know you’re safe. He doesn’t need a transcript of your conversations.” He tilted his head. “Who’s the guy, anyway? The one you’re already thinking about.”
It was unnerving, how easily he read her. “None of your business.”
“It is now. Part of the scenery needs to know the plot.” He took another step, and she was backed against the cold granite of the island. “Is it that kid from the dean’s list? The one with the elbow patches?”
“No.”
“The law school guy who drives the too-loud BMW?”
“No.”
Luca’s eyes searched her face, and a slow, knowing smirk spread across his. “It’s a jock, isn’t it? Of course it is. Let me guess. Rusty Owens.”
Jamie felt her cheeks flame. She said nothing, which was confirmation enough.
Luca let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “The quarterback. Sigma Tau president. Poster boy for the all-American migraine.” He shook his head. “You’re aiming high, principessa. And you have no idea how to play that game.”
“And you do?”
“I know the game he plays. It’s not that different from ours, just with worse suits and more… publicly sanctioned violence.” He reached out and picked a non-existent piece of lint from the shoulder of her cardigan. His fingers brushed her collarbone, a fleeting, electric contact. “You want to land a guy like that? You can’t go at him with your Nietzsche and your virginity hanging out.”
The crudeness made her flinch. “Fuck you, Luca.”
“See? That’s the problem. You blush when you swear. Owens wouldn’t know what to do with a real woman. He wants a prop.” His hand stayed near her shoulder, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “If you’re determined to do this… let me help. Not as your guard. As your… coach.”
“My coach.”
“In seduction.” He said it plainly, as if offering to tutor her in algebra. “You think you can learn it from books? It’s a practice. I get you ready. I get you past whatever… blocks you have. You get your golden boy. And I get to keep you safe while you do it. Everyone wins.”
It was a devil’s bargain, wrapped in Luca’s casual charm. She saw the trap in it—the intimacy, the lessons, owing him. But she also saw the potential for freedom, for a real chance at the college life she’d fantasized about. With Luca, she might actually get to live it, not just observe it from behind bulletproof glass.
From the dining room, Vinny’s voice called, “Luca! You still back there?”
Luca didn’t move his eyes from Jamie’s. “We have a deal?”
The word felt like a key turning in a lock. “Deal.”
His smile returned, wider now, triumphant. He leaned in, his lips close to her ear. His whisper was a warm brush against her skin. “Lesson one starts tomorrow. Wear something you can move in. And leave the library books at home.”
He pushed off from the island and sauntered back toward the dining room, leaving her alone in the half-dark kitchen, her heart pounding a frantic, terrified, and thrilling rhythm against her ribs. The future had just shifted, and it smelled like his cologne, and it looked at her with eyes that knew far too much.
The future had just shifted, and it smelled like his cologne, and it looked at her with eyes that knew far too much.
Jamie stayed in the kitchen until her breathing evened out, until the flush on her chest faded from anger to something more complicated. She could hear the low rumble of men’s voices from the dining room, a sound as familiar as the hum of the refrigerator. When she pushed through the swinging door, the scene had changed.
Her father was gone, likely retreated to his study. Her mother was pouring espresso at the sideboard. And at the head of the table, where Vinny had been sitting, three figures now lounged.
Luca had retaken his seat, spinning a heavy Zippo lighter on the polished wood. Beside him was Marco, silent and watchful as a granite cliff, his dark eyes giving nothing away. And leaning against the back of Vinny’s chair, with an arm draped over her brother’s shoulders, was Santino “Sonny” Agosti, her brother’s second-in-command. Sonny was built like a retired boxer, his suits always a little too tight across the shoulders, his smile never quite reaching his cold, assessing eyes.
“There she is,” Sonny said, his voice a gravelly baritone. He raised his espresso cup in a mock toast. “The college woman. Congratulations, kid. Classics, huh? Gonna learn how to overthrow a government the old-fashioned way?”
“Something like that,” Jamie said, her voice carefully neutral.
Vinny scraped his chair back, his focus on her immediate. “It’s settled. Luca’s your primary on campus. He blends. But you’re not staying in a dorm. We’ve got a secure apartment lined up, two bedrooms. Marco will handle the perimeter, the logistics, the vetting of anyone who comes near you.”
Jamie’s stomach dropped. “Marco? Vet my friends? Vinny, you can’t be serious.”
“Deadly,” Vinny said, his jaw tight. “You think Greek Row is a joke? It’s a Petri dish. I’ve seen the reports. Girls getting their drinks spiked at those stupid theme parties, getting carried out like slabs of meat. Getting stupid drunk and waking up with no memory and a world of hurt.” He slammed a palm flat on the table, making the silverware jump. “You will not be a statistic. Not while I’m breathing.”
Marco gave a single, solemn nod. “No one gets close without me knowing their lineage back three generations. You’ll have a life, Jamie. A normal one. Just… a clean, safe version.”
“A gilded cage with a better view,” Jamie muttered.
Luca smirked, catching her eye. “I told you. Couch. Now you get a matching armchair.” He gestured to Marco with his chin. “He’s less comfortable, but he’s sturdy.”
Sonny chuckled, pushing off from the chair. “It’s a good team, kid. Luca’s your fun side. Marco’s your brain. Together, they’re your shadow. You won’t even know they’re there.”
“I already know,” Jamie shot back, her glare swinging from Sonny to her brother. “I know because you’re telling me. Because you don’t trust me to walk across a street by myself. You think I’m just another asset to warehouse, Vinny. A precious vase to bubble-wrap.”
“You’re my sister!” The shout exploded from him, raw and ragged. For a second, the polished heir was gone, replaced by a scared kid who’d seen too much. “You are the only good, clean thing we’ve ever produced. The only part of this family that isn’t stained. You want to talk about trust? I don’t trust the world. I don’t trust men. I don’t trust anyone who isn’t in this room right now. So yes, you’re getting a shadow. Two of them. And you’ll smile and thank them, because they’re the only reason I’m letting you go at all.”
The room went still. Her mother’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears. Marco studied the tabletop. Luca’s playful mask had slipped, revealing a hard, understanding certainty.
Jamie felt the fight drain out of her, replaced by a cold, hollow ache. This was the cost. This was always the cost. Her freedom was a loan, co-signed by her brother’s paranoia and paid for by the loyalty of men who lived in the dark.
She looked at Luca, who gave her the faintest, almost imperceptible shrug. Take the deal, it seemed to say. It’s the only one you’re getting.
“Fine,” she said, the word tasting of defeat. “But Marco doesn’t comment on my reading choices. And he definitely doesn’t get to meet my study group.”
A ghost of a smile touched Marco’s lips. “Deal.”
Vinny nodded, the tension in his shoulders uncoiling by a fraction. “Good. That’s settled.”
Sonny clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Now, who wants amaretto? We’re celebrating the princess going off to war.”
As her mother brought out the glasses, Jamie stood rooted to the spot, watching them. Luca watching her with a look that promised lessons in a dangerous art. Marco with the solemn gravity of a sworn protector. And her brother, whose love was a prison of such exquisite, terrifying construction.
She was going to college. And she was taking her own private underworld with her.
And she was taking her own private underworld with her.
The amaretto tasted like almonds and regret. Jamie swirled the small glass, watching the liquid cling to the crystal. The conversation had lapsed into shop talk—a shipping lane dispute, a reluctant restaurateur—topics that turned her into wallpaper. It was the usual silence. She was the ornament they were discussing how to safeguard.
She set the glass down with a sharp click.
“I have one request,” she said. Her voice cut through Sonny’s story about a poker game.
All four men turned. Her mother paused, the bottle of amaretto hovering over Luca’s glass.
“It’s non-negotiable,” Jamie continued, injecting a steel into her tone she’d learned from watching her father. “You’re sending me. You’re caging me.Fine. But I’m going to rush. I want to be in a sorority.”
Vinny’s espresso cup hit the saucer so hard it cracked. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Why?” He stood up, the chair legs screeching against the marble floor. “You want a list? The binge drinking. The prescription pills floating around in candy bowls. The hazing. The boys.Especially the boys. Frat houses are glorified brothels with worse hygiene. You think I don’t know what goes on there? You think I want my sister—my baby sister—in some skintight dress doing keg stands while some trust fund predator named Chad watches?”
“It’s not all like that,” Jamie protested, heat rising to her face.
“Enough of it is!You want friends? Join a book club. Join the goddamn debate team. You are not living in a house with thirty other girls who see college as a four-year audition for a wedding ring.”
“It’s about community! About connections!”
“Connections?” Vinny let out a brutal laugh. “You have connections. Right here. The kind that actually mean something in the world.”
“The kind that get people fished out of rivers?” The words were a grenade. The room froze.
Vinny’s face went pale, then flushed a dark red. He stared at her, his chest heaving. Slowly, he picked up his empty wine glass. He held it for a long second, his knuckles white. Then he slammed it down into the center of his marble plate. It exploded in a shocking cascade of crystal shards and sound.Elisa gasped. Marco didn’t flinch. Sonny let out a low whistle.
“You,” Vinny said, his voice dangerously quiet, “will not speak of things you don’t understand.” He leaned on the table, palms flat amidst the wreckage. “A sorority. You’re really asking me this. After everything we just agreed to.”
“I’m telling you,” Jamie corrected, her heart hammering against her ribs. “It’s part of the experience.The normal experience. You want me to blend? This is how you blend at Midvale. You don’t blend by having two made men as roommates. You blend by having a big sister and a letters jacket and a philanthropy event.”
Vinny looked at his father’s portrait, then at his mother’s worried face. He dragged a hand over his mouth. “The drinking.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“The drugs.”
“Not my scene.”
“The boys, Jamie.” He locked eyes with her. “The things they expect. The things they’ll try. Unplanned pregnancies aren’t just a scare tactic; they’re a quarterly statistic in those houses. I will not have some pimple-faced finance major touching you because he thinks a pin on his chest makes him a god.”
From the side, Luca snorted. He covered it with a cough, a smirk playing on his lips. Sonny outright laughed, a dry, raspy sound.
“What?” Vinny snapped at him.
“Nothing. It’s just cute. You think the biggest threat to her virtue is some frat boy.” Sonny shook his head, swirling his amaretto.
“It’s my condition,” Jamie pressed, clinging to her sliver of leverage. “You get your security. I get a life.A real one. Or I don’t go, and I spend the next year here, making every single one of you miserable. I’ll start by reorganizing the wine cellar. Alphabetically by region.”
A long, tense silence stretched. Marco finally spoke, his voice calm and logical. “Which sorority?”
Jamie took a steadying breath. “Theta Rho Omega.”
Luca choked on his drink. A genuine, sputtering laugh burst out of him. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Theta Rho? At Midvale?” Luca wiped his mouth, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated amusement. “Jesus, Jamie. That’s not a sorority, it’s a corporation. Their alumni include senators’ wives and Fortune 500 heiresses. Their median GPA is a 3.9. They’re the sister chapter to Sigma Tau Kappa.”
Recognition flashed in Vinny’s eyes.Sigma Tau. Rusty Owen’s fraternity.
“Oh, this is perfect,” Luca chuckled, leaning back. “You want that sorority? The one that’s basically a feeder school for the Rusty Owens of the world? Princess, you’re not their usual pledge. Their usual pledge arrives with a trust fund, a Valentino suitcase, and a nose job for her sixteenth birthday. You show up with a 4.0 and… us. You need a lot of help to get in. A lot of help.”
Jamie crossed her arms, defiant. “So help me.”
Vinny looked from Luca’s grinning face to Jamie’s stubborn one. The fight was leaving him, replaced by a grim, tactical calculation. He gave a sharp, resigned nod.“Fine. You can rush. Luca, that’s your first job. You make it happen. You get her through whatever the hell this rush process is.Clean. Sober. And unchaperoned at the events.”
Luca’s smirk turned into a full-blown, devious smile. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”
“Marco,” Vinny said, turning to his stoic friend. “You do the deep dive. Every girl in that house. Every alum. Every scandal, every debt, every family connection. I want to know what they had for breakfast last Tuesday.”
Marco nodded once. “On it.”
Vinny pointed a finger at Jamie, shards of glass glittering around his hand. “But you follow their rules. Every rule Luca sets for this… makeover. You listen to him. You are entering a theater of war, and he knows the terrain. You got it?”
The victory felt hollow and terrifying. She had gotten what she wanted, but the price was handing over the reins to Luca. She looked at him. He winked, raising his glass in a silent toast to her.
“I got it,” Jamie said.
“Good.” Vinny shook broken glass from his hand, a few drops of blood spotting the white linen. “Now get out of here. I need to have my hand stitched and explain to Ma why her good china is down a glass.”
Jamie didn’t need to be told twice. She pushed her chair back and fled the dining room, the sound of Sonny’s laughing cough and Luca’s low, promising chuckle following her up the stairs. Her heart was a trapped bird slamming against her ribs. She had won. She was going to rush Theta Rho Omega. She was going to be near Rusty.
And Luca Bianchi was going to teach her how to do it.