Page 1 of Corrupting Lily

Prologue

Lily

Six Months Ago

Shit, shit, shit! Move Lily! The internal pep talk is followed by a glance backwards through the only eye that isn’t swollen shut. Miraculously, I’m still alone. For now. My vision blurs with the turn of my head as another wave of light-headedness has me reaching for the wall—bad idea, as a perfect red handprint mars the pristine white paint. Not leaving a trail was proving difficult as blood dripped from the gaping gash running along the underside of my right arm—the largest of the wounds. If I didn't get it seen to soon, it may very well be my end. When would that thought finally be enough? When would my demise finally be welcome? Not yet, it appears, as sheer terror and self-preservation push me forward, forcing one leg in front of the other.

What was the point? This repeating thought makes me want to laugh, but I don't, fearing the pain that action would no doubt elicit. There was no point, and yet, I continue fighting for a life that has beennothing but pain. Was this the definition of insanity?

Finally, I spot the door to the stairwell. If I can reach the basement, I might be able to slip out through the staff exit—the same one we used months ago when I needed to get to the hospital without drawing attention. Using my elbow to push the handle down, I lean against it with the left side of my body, silently cursing as the door handle jabs my bruised ribs. It swings open, and I stumble forward, fighting to remain upright.

I never minded living in the penthouse on the top floor—until now. As I peer through my one eye at the flight of stairs stretching between me and freedom, fifteen floors above my destination, I feel the weight of every step ahead.

“You have to do this,” I mumble to myself, my scratchy voice sounding foreign in my ears. All the screaming and crying have left my throat dry and hoarse. Progress is slower than I would like, but the loss of blood is making me feel unsteady. Time drags on, and I wonder if I am perhaps already in hell and this is the never-ending staircase to its core.

It isn't until a female voice pierces the silence of the stairwell that I realize I am near the ground floor.

“You know I hate elevators. Do you remember when we went to Padre’s place and got stuck in that elevator for three hours? Not fucking happening again,” the woman says, laughing as a deep chuckle accompanies hers.

“At least you are only on the third floor. Else, there is no fucking way I would be entertaining the idea. I should just take the elevator and meet you there,” a man’s voice responds, amusement in his tone.

“Stop complaining,vecchio. The exercise will be beneficial.” The woman’s words are followed by the stairwell door closing behind them.

“Hey, who are you calling, old man? I’m the same age as you. And look at me—I definitely don’t need the exercise,” the man says, his tone playfully offended. Their footfalls on the steps below reach my ears, adding to my rising panic. Damn. What was I going to do? If I hurry, I can hide a floor above where they're going and then just come back down when they leave.

Pivoting on my heel, I inhale sharply as another wave of dizziness washes over me. Dammit, Lily! Gently, I lower myself to my knees and slowly begin crawling up the steps. This is what I have been reduced to, I think bitterly, as my vision blurs, stealing away the sight of the rather clean tiles beneath me. No way any of these rich fucks would want a dirty stairwell, I muse, the acrid tone of the statement making me feel physically sick. I hated them. I hated them all.

“What the fuck!” I literally jump, the woman's voice now directly behind me.

“Who did this to you?” she asks, her hand resting on my shoulder and making me flinch involuntarily.

"Don't touch me." It comes out as a harsh whisper.

Her hand disappears, followed by a strained silence.

“I’m fine. Just go,” I mumble when I still feel their presence behind me, my voice unchanged. Still unrecognizable.

“You’re definitely not fine. Let me get the security. They can call the cops,” the man suggests, his tone hard now, all traces of humor gone.

“NO! No police!” I didn’t intend for it to come out as a shout, nor did I think I had another one left in me, but apparently, I do, as the protest echoes off the walls.

“I’ll be fine. I just need to get to the basement. There's a staff exit there. Once I’m out,hecan’t find me.” Desperation causes me to reveal too much. And who was I kidding? I wouldn’t make it two steps beforeheor one of his lackeys found me, especiallyafter what I've done.

“Who? Who will find you?” The woman’s voice is gentle, yet I can’t trust anyone. And time is running out. I can tell by the way my heart is beating slowly in my ears that I am losing more blood than my body can handle. If I pass out here, I stood no chance, so I push myself up, prepared to continue.

“Your arm, you’ve lost too much blood. You’re not going to make it down another flight of stairs, let alone three,” the man comments, his voice angry and strained. The truth of his words saps away the last of my energy.

Strong arms reach for me as I begin to sway. And then fall.

All the tears I have held back finally spill, the dam wall breaking as I do. Into the welcoming abyss of darkness I sink. Perhaps this is where I belong, in the shadows where death resides.

Chapter 1

Lily

Present

“We have someone important coming tonight. He will arrive at nine. I don’t want to see any empty glasses on the tables. Keep the drinks replenished, and no cheap stuff tonight,” Basilio, the owner of North Side Gentlemen’s Club, addresses the staff standing silently behind the bar before glancing at each of the servers next to me, his gaze finally resting on me at the end. I nod in agreement, mimicking the others.

---