Page 14 of Corrupting Lily

“Wow, I haven’t seen you that angry in a while.” Dante’s wordsrequire no elaboration.

Usually, I left the dirty work to him or Nero, but after seeing the state of Lily’s body, rage needing an outlet brought me here. Lorenzo was at the receiving end of that fury, not that he didn’t deserve it. Sex trafficking was not a business the Sante family was involved in, no matter how lucrative it unfortunately was. Lorenzo dabbling in that on the side, which is what I suspected the payments were for, would tarnish the whole Sante name. Something he understood now, his body beaten to within an inch of his life. The same doctor who had stitched Lily’s arm six months ago, Doc Warren, was working hard to ensure his survival, as we needed more information from him. My fury had been so intense that restraint and patience on my part were lacking. Torturing someone took time—time I didn't want to waste on a piece of shit like him.

A vast sex trafficking syndicate was taking over the city, my city, with influential players at the head of it. We have spent months trying to figure out who was behind it, with dead end after dead end leaving us no closer to the answer. Even the cops and FBI in our pocket were in the dark on this one, telling me that whoever was pulling the strings had substantial reach and money.

Wordlessly, we climb into the vehicle, Dante issuing Matteo instructions to take us to Bronze, one of my go-to clubs after a stressful day. Booze, cigars, and women usually numb the lingering effects of a day like today. My mind, however, immediately goes to a petite, black-haired flower, one who made me spill words that I had never shared with anyone. I have never comforted anyone. Women’s emotional states were of little concern to me, all except this one.

Seeing that tear slip from her eye as she stood before me, vulnerable, sad, and broken, did something to me. I recognized the scars on her body because I had similar ones. My body used as an ashtray in thesame fashion, the whip marks from a leather belt decorating my skin as they did hers. Little cut marks from the blade of a knife deep enough to leave a scar on the canvas we called our bodies. We were snipped from the same cloth. It was a shocking revelation that an innocent, pure soul could have anything in common with me, that the devil and the angel could share the same space. Tearing down my beliefs and replacing them with something else—a deep-rooted, insatiable desire to protect that virtue at all costs.

“No, take me home,” I tell Matteo, surprising both of us. I was altering my plans for a woman, a little flower I want to protect but who might actually need protection from me. I cancelled our dinner tonight, the one I mentioned to her in the boutique earlier. After what happened, I knew being around her was dangerous and that I should keep my distance. Yet here we are—me giving up a night of all my favorite things to check on how she is doing.

Except, after today, I had a few new favorite things to add to my list. The sound of Lily as she came all over our fingers. The taste of her after I popped that come-soaked finger in my mouth. My pleasures normally came from an external source, and I was usually the one receiving the happy ending. With her, the pleasure came from seeing her reaction. From giving her satisfaction. It was fucking unusual. She was unusual. The look on her face as she watched a man fuck another man, that innocence coupled with curiosity. A woman like her could spoil a man if he weren’t careful. Be spellbound by her. Yet, the scars on her body told a different story—one I wanted to know. The way she was supposed to be treated and the way she was actually treated were two entirely different things.

Dante looks at me with a questioning expression, but doesn’t dare say anything as we change our course.

"I want you to retrieve all the footage from the incident involvingLily six months ago. Actually, go back as far as you can. I want all the footage since she moved into the penthouse. Have our guys scour for any interactions involving her.” Dante nods in response, his fingers typing furiously on his cell as he issues instructions to our tech guys.

Dante is curious about my interest in Lily, beyond a business transaction. However, he refrains from asking, and the rest of the car ride consists of business-related updates. A while later, Matteo drops me off, and while I would like to look for Lily immediately, a quick glance at my bloodied hands and blood-splattered suit sends me to my bedroom instead. I don’t want her to see me like this. Part of me reluctantly acknowledges that I don’t want her to know the monster I truly am.Ange de la Mort—Angel of Death.

After a quick shower, I put on some slacks and a T-shirt. When I arrived, my housekeeper informed me that Lily was in the drawing room, choosing to eat dinner while reading a book. I'm not even surprised. My mother was the same way, using books to escape her reality. After quietly opening the door, I enter the room, scanning the area. As I proceed, I find her curled up in a chair near the enormous window. The curtains are drawn back, and light from the stars illuminates her face, which is relaxed in sleep—something she hasn’t been getting enough of, as evidenced by the shadows under her eyes that seem even more pronounced now.

She doesn’t stir as I approach or when I release the book lying on her chest from her grasp. She is dressed in old, worn pajamas. Not surprising. Matteo told me that, in the end, he brought two small bags containing her belongings. It’s pitiful, really, but then again, she was building her life from scratch in the shadows. My gaze drifts over the cotton material. Eve's definitely didn't cater for comfort so I would have to get her new pairs of pajamas elsewhere. Actually, she would look pretty fucking delectable sleeping in one of my shirts. Thatthought makes my cock hard. Again. I should be used to it with her.

But contemplating what else Matteo discovered under her floorboard diminishes my desire and instead fills me with unease. A stash of money, enough to buy new clothes and furniture, was hidden beneath a loose floorboard, a fairly obvious hiding place. Not spending it suggests she must be saving toward a goal, and the only clear one is to run. Not a fucking chance. She has to stay here. For now, at least. I decide what happens to her—only me.

She stirs as I lift her, her body curling against mine while her hands rest on my chest. An empty plate lies on the table beside her. Good, she needs to eat more. She is far too skinny, and the weight in my arms feels slight. She becomes fully awake as we walk down the passage toward the room assigned to her, the one right next to mine. Big, whisky-colored eyes dart around my face, her body stiffening slightly before relaxing.

“You’re back. I thought when you left so abruptly earlier that I wouldn’t see you again,” she says, her eyes still searching my face. I don’t know what she wants, but she won’t find it. I don’t have what she needs: a man better than I, and love. I don't know if I am capable of that anymore. Besides, I'm not one of the heroes in the books she reads. I'm the villain—a real one. I've killed, and I'll kill again. It was part of my life. It was part of who I was.

“We will be seeing a lot of each other,” is all I say as I gently push the door to her room open. The covers have already been pulled back, and she frowns as I lay her down. The lack of contact makes me feel a similar way. Since when was that even a thing? Fuck. I need to go before I do something I shouldn't. Something her eyes almost plead for me to do.

“Sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” I turn to leave the room, battling the overwhelming urge to climb in next to her.

“Please, won’t you stay until I fall asleep?” Her words stop me in my tracks, the absolute vulnerability in her tone enough to make a man break. But she could destroy me. Ruin me. I have lived so long, and it is not a six-foot something foe that takes me down. No. It is a little flower, begging for sun I do not possess.

“I don’t do that.” Hurt flashes across her face and then vanishes, replaced by a resigned smile, which is the last thing I see before I walk out.

I head to my study, hoping to finish some work, but her soft words keep replaying in my mind. The look on her face, in her eyes, plays over and over like a bad fucking dream.

I don’t share a bed with women. I don’t wait around for them to fall asleep. We fuck, and then they leave. That’s how it works. Except this moment has me rethinking that routine. After an hour of reading the same document over and over without absorbing a single word, I shove it off my desk in frustration, finally giving in to the constant nagging in my mind.

Retracing my steps, I find myself in front of Lily’s door, the guard down the hall looking at me curiously before turning away. This behavior is bizarre. I fucking knew it. He knew it. Sure she is asleep, I enter her room, hovering over her before moving to the other side of the bed. I climb under the covers, telling myself I'll just stay for a few minutes. As I settle in, her tiny body rolls over, gravitating towards me. It's as if she can sense my presence, and she snuggles closer, her head finding the perfect spot in the crook of my arm, her leg draping over mine, and her arm hugging my broad chest tightly against her.

It's hard to describe, but how she feels in my arms is how I imagine two puzzle pieces slotting into each other would feel. Like they belong. Each shape is crafted perfectly to fit, leaving no gap between where one starts and the other ends. This is how it feels to have Lily lyingagainst me. It is profound. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. My heart nearly misses a beat as the moment solidifies itself as an important one for me.

Fuck, this was a bad idea.

Chapter 11

Lily

I roll over, chasing the scent that has haunted my dreams—whiskey, cigars, and a hint of spice. I grab the pillow where the smell is most potent, press my face into it, and inhale deeply. It didn’t smell like this when I got into bed last night, so why does it smell like this now? Dreams of my limbs wrapped around a strong, muscular form swirl in my mind like a mirage, trying to take root as real when they cannot be.

Dominico made it clear he never ‘did that,’ whatever that was. Stick around at a woman's request. Comfort her when she is in a massive mansion with guards all around. Make her feel safe when it seems her whole world is crashing down. Yet that is the lingering feeling I am left with as my eyes open and I take in the ceiling of my luxurious room. Looking to the side, I can see the sun peeking through the curtain, telling me it must be morning already.

When I prop myself up and glance at the clock on the nightstand, it reads ten thirteen.

“Oh my god!” I tumble out of bed, my panic and haste tangling my foot in the silky covers. With a loud thud, I fall to the carpeted floor, the thick padding absorbing some of the impact.

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