Page 17 of Morally Corrupt

The contact is brief, but it's enough to mess with my head. She probably has no idea what she does to me, the way my eyes follow the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts as she invites me to sit down.

I swallow hard, and I try to think of the most disgusting crime scenes I've ever witnessed, hoping the gore will put a damper on my growing erection.

Bianca smiles sweetly at me, but she doesn't attempt to continue the conversation, too shy to even look me directly in the eye.

"Your father told me you're in college?" I try to remember anything Martin might have mentioned about her.

She gives me a soft nod.

"And what are you studying?" God, once again, I feel entirely too old for her.

"Social Studies."

"Really? Why?" I wouldn't have expected that answer from a rich girl. But then, she doesn't look like the typical spoiled little rich girl.

"I want to help people," she says, lowering her gaze as if she's ashamed of her dreams. "I want to make a difference for those less fortunate than me. I know I'm in a position of power and privilege because of my father, so I want to do something to give back to society," she finishes saying this, and I can't help but look at her in awe. She can't be real, can she?

So gorgeous and poised, and she has a big heart too? I swallow hard, the need to touch her is too overwhelming, but I control myself.

"That's a commendable aspiration," I praise, and I'm regaled by one of those beautiful smiles of hers.

Fuck! I'm in trouble.

We don't get to talk much further, as Martin strides in with a few other men. After some brief introductions, we are all ushered to the dining room.

By some luck of fate, Bianca is seated in front of me, so I continue to study her, her beauty something I've never encountered before. And it's not just her looks. There is something about her that pulls me and draws me in.

The conversation flows, and I notice that Bianca continues to smile, but doesn't say much else. Granted, no one seems to address her directly. Even Martin seems to forget the fact that his daughter is sitting at the table, his stories becoming bawdier and teetering on the vulgar side. Bianca maintains her gentle smile, even though I can tell there's a certain tightness to it.

I catch her eye and I give her a reassuring nod, hoping it would comfort her to know she is not forgotten. She blushes and looks down at her plate.

"What about your daughter? She's of age, isn't she?" One of the older men, Anthony Bering, leers at her.

"That she is," Martin smirks.

"Tell me girl, do you have a boyfriend?" He turns his attention wholly on her, and Bianca shifts a little, clearly uncomfortable.

"She's not allowed to," Martin comments, taking a sip of his wine.

"Let her answer. Why isn't she talking?"

Bianca lowers her gaze even more.

"I taught her well, Bering, she knows when to shut up," her father interjects, pride reflected in his gaze.

"She's a meek little thing, isn't she? Perfect for plucking. Probably a virgin too." He can't seem to stop talking, and looking at Martin, he has no intention of putting a stop to this. Bianca's cheeks are burning, and she is trying awfully hard to ignore the comments.

"That's not a way to talk to a lady," I interject, sick of this bawdy talk, especially in Bianca's presence.

"Lady? Tell me, Ashby, how much do you want for her?" Bering chuckles.

"How much are you willing to pay?" Martin raises an eyebrow and I feel my anger rising. Surely, it's just a joke, as much as it is in poor taste.

"I don't know," Bering continues, his eyes roving over Bianca's form. "I don't think she knows how to please a man. Do you, little bird?" He stands up, his fingers on her chin and raising her head up.

Seeing his pudgy little hands on her, I don't even think, I just react. In a matter of seconds, I have him by the collar, my fist plunging into his face. There's outraged gasps around me as Bering falls to the floor.

"I told you that's not a way to treat a lady," I say through gritted teeth. Bering sputters some threatening nonsense, but I don't care.

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