Born Sinner by Cora Kenborn

Chapter Two

Lola

Trust no one. Suspect everyone.

The last words my father said to me before I left Mexico ring in one ear as Troy Davis’s drunken shouts fill the other.

“María! Hey, María!”

Pinching the cigarette between my fingers, I lift it to my lips and inhale while pretending not to notice. The truth is, I’m still getting used to that name.

María.

I hate it, but it was a small price to pay in order to trade my sheltered existence for the American dream. American freedom.

My grip tightens, denting the filter. I don’t feel so free right now. In fact, I feel more suffocated standing inside this lavish New Jersey apartment than I did locked inside my gilded border cage.

Blend in, Lola…

I’ve barely thought the words when a rush of heat ignites, licking along the skin on my bare shoulders. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I track his movement.

Or lack thereof…

Sam Colton hasn’t moved in fifteen minutes. I know; I’ve counted every one of them. He’s still leaned against the far wall, his heel lazily braced against it as if daring it to crumble.

Daring it to deny his weight.

His hard, muscular, sinfully defined weight.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, I glance down at my feet, ignoring the high-pitched chatter spreading like an infectious disease all around me. This was a bad idea.

I’m about to spout off a lame excuse and get the hell out of here when a figure appears behind me, and hot breath fans across my neck. “Damn, baby, look at you…”

Note to self: American men can’t take a hint.

Sighing, I take another long drag off my cigarette. Dios mío, these things are disgusting.

Already planning my exit strategy,  I glance over my shoulder to find Troy pressed way too close, his hooded gaze slowly sliding down my body.

Additional note to self:American men are also transparent as fuck.

Once he finally manages to look me in the eyes, he flashes a wide smile. I’ll give him full marks for effort, but it’s anything but sincere. Those perfect white teeth might as well end in two sharp points.

“That dress should come with a warning sign,” he notes, trailing the back of his knuckles all the way down my arm to my wrist.

Lifting my chin, I blow a steady line of smoke right in his face. “It does: ‘off-limits.’”

Those blond eyebrows raise toward a perfectly styled blond hairline. It’s obvious he’s confused as to why I’m not already on my knees sucking his dick—just like every other female at this party wants to.

The seething hatred coming from all four corners of the room is hot enough to spark a fire. There are at least half a dozen girls here willing to sell their souls to be me right now.

All because Troy Davis is a trophy dick.

Even with my short amount of time on campus, I know every facet of the unwritten rule: if given the opportunity to spread your legs for the star quarterback, you don’t ask questions. You do it, then wear it as a badge of honor.

Maybe if I were any other girl.

I down half my rum and Coke, my gaze wandering over Troy’s shoulder. Like a magnet, it settles back on that wall…and on him.

Sam Colton.

My brain spins a hundred different reasons as to why I should look away, but I don’t. Instead, I memorize every strand of that messy dark hair and every inch of those tribal tattoos licking up his neck.

And if he were any other boy…

One I haven’t been warned to stay away from with no explanation as to why...

I’m ripped away from Sam’s cold stare as Troy winds his arm around my waist and pulls me against his chest. “Come on, don’t be like that, María. I’m just being friendly.”

Pinche sangrón.I clench my jaw, caging the insult behind my lips.

You’re not royalty here, Lola.

You’re a wide-eyed college student.

Just like the herd of half-drunk coeds standing in front of me. The ones winking at Troy’s arm and giving me a wave of  “thumbs up” signs.

Oblivious girls bleeding their naivety all over Sam Colton’s apartment.

Sam…

Flicking a gaze over Troy’s shoulder, I catch him passing a dangerous gaze at us before curling his lip. My hand trembles as I lift the red plastic cup again. I wish he’d stop staring at me like that.

Like I’m a stain on his precious marble flooring.

“Right,” I mutter.

Chuckling, Troy brushes his lips against my ear. “Trust me,” he whispers, tracing his index finger across the back of my hand.

Trust no one.

No one is your friend, cielito. They’re only an enemy in waiting.

Suspect everyone.

Everyone is a snake. Some are just better at shedding their skin.

I swallow my father’s warnings, liquid sloshing over the rim of my red cup as I jerk my hand away. If I don’t occupy my mouth, my true colors will fall out… Troy’s eyes follow every movement as I lift my drink, downing what’s left. Just as the corners of his mouth tip up, I step forward.

Rules were meant to be broken—especially unwritten ones.

“Trust is earned, Troy.” Flashing him a syrupy smile, I drop my half-smoked cigarette into his beer, accompanied by a chorus of horrified gasps.

My name is molded around multiple variations of “whore,” but I’m already halfway across the room by the time they catch up to me.

Perfect, Lola. That was the exact opposite of “blending in…”

I’m supposed to swoon and bat my eyes. Instead, I placed a tiara on my head and unloaded a gun into the wall.

Safely immersed within the bowels of a makeshift dance floor, I sneak a look back at my friends. Their mouths are still gaping in shock. I let out a rough sigh while pretending to dance to the irritating base rattling the windows.

There will be a slew of questions waiting for me tomorrow. Apologies will have to be made. Bombs will need to be diffused. Diversions will have to be crafted...

But tonight, instinct is pumping too hard through my veins to ignore.

You don’t grow up as the daughter of a kingpin without learning how to carve through bullshit to extract the truth. Troy Davis’s truth is what makes him so dangerous. He’s a viper hiding behind Polo shirts and boat shoes.

Luckily for me, I can read asshole frat boys.

As my gait slows, I glance to my right where a pair of midnight eyes are still watching me.

But not him.

I’d have better luck reading in the dark than reading Sam Colton.

* * *

I should be home.

I should be on the couch in my favorite pajamas watching Netflix, forgetting I ever agreed to come tonight.

But I’m not.

Twenty minutes after ditching everyone, I’m still leaning up against a wall at this party. At Sam’s piece of shit—gritting my teeth, I look around at the marble and crystal everything and sigh—at his infuriatingly beautiful apartment.

“Why the hell am I still here?” I grumble out loud—except what falls from my mouth sounds nothing like what was in my head. Instead, it sounds like one long word dipped in caramel.

My stomach sloshes around at the thought.

“This is why Santi told you not to drink, Yola.” I blink. “Loya.” I blink again, the weight on my neck causing my chin to fall forward. “Yoya…”

What the hell kind of rum is Sam serving?

My head flops back, slamming against the wall with a hard thud. “Ow…” That’s going to hurt tomorrow. I try to lift my hand to rub it, but the weight from my neck is now wrapped around my wrist. So I stand there, head back, knees bent, and arms heavy, swaying to a dancing orange light.

Up.

Down.

Left.

Right.

I blink again, the clouds in my eyes thinning enough for me to realize the light isn’t dancing—it’s moving.

And it’s not just a light.

It’s a fucking joint.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I count to five before opening them, only to collide with a familiar tattooed hand lifting the joint to a familiar mouth as familiar lips wrap around the end.

Sam.

As if I spoke his name out loud, he turns toward me. This time, he doesn’t look right through me. He levels that icy glare like an earthquake, and I shiver under its weight. He’s less than twenty feet away, but he might as well have me pressed against the wall with both hands wrapped around my neck.

My pulse races…

I can’t breathe…

It’s only when he pins me with that lethal stare again that I see it…

Darkness.

He’s not just a rich bad boy with a chip on his shoulder—he’s a jagged reef lying beneath a calm sea. And this place isn’t just an apartment—it’s a diamond-encrusted snake pit.

The realization is too much. The weight is too heavy. Both tangle in a knotted haze, dragging me down the wall. Just before I hit the floor, an arm hooks around my waist, pulling me to my feet. My brain barely stops spinning when a pair of lips press against my ear.

“What do you say we go someplace more private?”

I nod slowly, the words sounding thick and muddled in my head. Then I’m floating. Fingers dig into my arm, guiding me up, up, up…

So far up, I wonder if we’ll ever reach the top.

I wonder what would happen if he let me go. I wonder how long it would take to hit the water. To sink beneath the surface and onto the reef... To stain clear blue water murky red…

My head lolls back. “Sam?”

A dark laugh rumbles beside me. “I’ll be whoever you want me to be, baby.”

“I don’t feel so good, Sam.”

“Don’t worry…” he assures me. “Now that I’ve got that attitude dialed down, I’ll make you feel better. Trust me.”