Page 33 of Corrupting Lily

Actually, I should be used to this by now. My mind was on the man who has been missing in action for the last three days since the incident in the gym. He left shortly after that. While I was initially nervous about moving into Dominico's room, which I currently occupy, there was no need to be. He hasn’t slept here since I moved in that night. The pang of hurt and jealousy that has been my constant companion these last three days threatens to consume me yet again.

If he wasn’t sleeping here, where was he sleeping? With whom was he sleeping? What about the two-month period? Did he not want that anymore? His absence in my life created insecurity that was both annoying and enlightening. I wanted to be around him, and I wanted him to want me.

“Earth to Lily, I swear to god, this is not the time to zone out. We have one hour until everyone arrives, and you need to be prepared. You will be meeting thefamiglia.”

This catches my attention, and suddenly, I am very interested in what is happening.

I get up, approaching the closet as my heart rate increases, hoping I heard her wrong.

“What did you say? What is the event tonight?”

Alison appears with a beautiful green dress in one hand and black kitten heels in the other.

“It is the annual family gathering tonight. Have you not seen all the chaos in the mansion?” Alison is looking at me like I am stupid. I don’t blame her. I had noticed that there was a lot of activity. Cleaners. Decorators. Constant supply deliveries. More guards. But I thought that was just what happened at a mafia mansion. What did I know about this world? That thought makes me feel even more insecure. Who was I kidding? I didn’t belong here; if I did, Dominico would have included me in the arrangements or at least prepared me for it in some way.

“I don’t think I should attend tonight's event.” Alison stops what she is doing and spins around, her eyebrows raised so high that only her hairline prevents them from going further.

“You have to go. Dominico said you have to be there.”

“Have you spoken to him? Is he here?”

“Yes, I spoke to him this morning. He is downstairs.”

Wow, he is here and didn’t even bother to see me. What does that say about whatever this was between us? It clearly wasn’t important. I clearly wasn’t important enough to him.

“Well, I’m not going tonight.” I fold my arms across my chest as if that will give my words the conviction they need.

Alison stares at me for a long time before carefully placing the dress on the bed. “Your decision, so you need to go tell him. I’m not going to do it.” I drop my arms and straighten my shoulders, determined to stand my ground.

“Okay, I will. Where is he?” I ask, willing the anxiety in my stomach to disappear and instead be replaced with courage. I can do this. I can tell the Don of the Mafia that I will not attend tonight's event just because he ordered me to. Besides, he can take whoever he has been shaking up with over the last three nights as his date. That thought helps shake off my fear.

“Downstairs in the hall next to the dining room.”

I storm out of the room, thinking that when I am done, I will move my stuff back to the room I was in when I arrived here.

The guards pay me no attention as I stomp through the mansion, down the stairs, and toward the room Alison said he was in. I’m so wrapped up in cheering my spur-of-the-moment decision on and metaphorically patting myself on the back that when I swing the door open without knocking, all the courage I had mustered disappears, leaving me like a deflated balloon.

Twenty sets of eyes stare at me, all male, all mafia. I gaze around the room, suddenly so self-conscious that my cheeks blaze with embarrassment. Fuck. I’ve made a mistake. My attention is drawn to the front of the table when a very familiar and gruff voice commands all eyes back to him.

“Gentlemen.” Grey eyes lock with mine and freeze me in place, igniting my whole body with the look he gives me. His gaze drifts down my yellow summer dress-covered body, so out of place among the sea of black here, and then back up again, his face giving nothing away. Except for the twitch of his jaw. He is angry. I can’t blame him. I’ve clearly interrupted a crucial meeting.

“Out. Now.” My eyes widen, and my stomach drops as his order is issued. His tone is harsh, and tears prick my eyes, threatening to fall. I spin on my heel, dropping my head in shame.

Before I can take a step, twenty chairs simultaneously push back, the sound against the floor almost deafening. I can feel the men walk past me, but I don’t dare look up. I’m too shocked.

“Come here,il mio fiorellino.” That voice. God, I have missed it. My body has missed it, too, as it reacts like a person on a rollercoaster ride would. My stomach does flips as a giddiness, missing these last few days, reappears.

I turn around slowly, my eyes finding the man who easily commands me. He sits in his chair, one leg resting on the thigh of the other, a cigar in his hand. The puff he takes before extinguishing it lingers in the air, stealing away the oxygen already in short supply. He lifts his eyebrow, reminding me he has spoken.

I take a few steps toward him, trying to gauge his mood. Am I in trouble? He uses his nickname for me, but does that mean he isn’t angry with me?

“I’m sorry I interrupted.” I stop a couple of feet from him, willing my hands to remain still as the urge to fidget rises.

“Never be sorry. You can interrupt anytime.”

I look away, his words confusing me. He makes me feel special by saying things like that, but it isn’t true. If it were, he would want to see me as much as I want to see him.

“Where have you been?” I blurt out the question, blushing furiously at my boldness.

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