Page 52 of Corrupting Lily

I groan, tearing my eyes away from the visuals that are making my cock hard. I hadn’t actually thought this through. What I want is for my little flower to acknowledge my feelings for her and vice versa. I know she has them. She just doesn’t want to accept them, afraid she will get hurt. There isn’t room in my world for fear, and I already know from her history that she is stronger than she thinks. Besides, I don’t want to hurt her.

Nero isn’t faring much better and hasn’t said anything since they came out, his eyes on his tormentor, who is in a bright pink bikini. His jaw is ticking, and it looks like he is about to blow a fuse—all feelings I recognize.

Thankfully, the visual stimulators climb into the water, giving us a brief reprieve.

“Massimo and Ginevra have arrived…with Rocco and the rest of the family.” The sound of the group exiting the mansion onto the patio alerts the others, and soon, greetings are in full swing.

“Dominico, good to see you again,” Massimo greets, handing me a box of expensive Cuban cigars. One of a kind and made by the Bianchi family, their gold family crest wrapped around each one.

“An early wedding present,” he says as Rocco approaches.

He is another person who would be dead were it not for his connection to Massimo and one of the Three Families. Even though we had investigated him, a nagging feeling that he was somehow involved in the sex trafficking syndicate remained. He was greedy, and I knew he thought the Bianchi family should be the new family at the top, with him as the Don. I was sure he was the source of the rumors that there would be a new Don soon. I just couldn’t prove it. Yet. And the money to fund that kind of coup would have to come from somewhere. What was a more lucrative business now than the one destroying our city?

“Dominico, congratulations on the upcoming nuptials,” he says, holding his hand out for me to shake. Even this is a show of power, as he squeezes hard. My return squeeze is no match for him as he flinches and then loosens up, a flash of annoyance crossing his features before it is covered up with a cocky smile.

“Thank you. I heard you had trouble with one of the shipping containers last week.” There is a warning in my tone, one that everyone in earshot picks up as many stiffen, waiting for his response.

“You know how it is. These Mancuso brothers are trying hard to get a foot in. But don’t worry, I have it under control.” I nod, watching him intently, his smug confidence not allowing him to fully understand the danger he is in. He would be responsible if he didn’t get a handle on it, and I lost another shipment. As usual, his brother comes to his rescue.

“We have increased security on the south side ports and sent a clear message to their families. We are handling it. Don’t worry, Dominico.” Massimo glares at his brother, a warning, before looking back at me.

“You know the price for incompetence. Let's not make it due. Anyway, enough business. Have a drink and relax,” I dismiss, already tired of this conversation. My eyes instead drift over to my currentdilemma, who is laughing and chatting with Holly as if she isn’t a thorn in my side. I suppose a rose is only dangerous to those holding its prickly stem. Lucky for her, I liked pain. And a challenge. Both of which she offered.

“I’ll fetch us a drink,” Nero says gruffly, giving Holly one last look before he heads toward the outside bar. I hear Holly ask Matteo to get them two glasses of champagne, a request intercepted by Rocco.

“I’m heading there. I’ll get it for you.” His absence shortly thereafter is welcome. He was too smooth. Slippery like a fucking eel.

“So, I heard something interesting, that you had called off the wedding with Lily and were marrying someone else. Is this correct?” Massimo puffs on his cigar, smiling at me as he cocks his head to the side.

“I’m sure this is not true. I saw the affection you have for this woman firsthand. And my sister experienced it. So it must be wrong then.”

“I will be married to Lily,” is all I say, not eager to get into this with a man who would not understand. His wife, Ginevra, was the most sickly-sweet woman I had ever met—definitely not my preference. They never fought or even said a bad word to one another; to me, that just seemed so dull. At least my woman challenged me and ignited a passion in me that none had before her.

Laughter from the direction of the pool draws my attention. Holly and Lily are stepping out, with the dead man Rocco there to assist. His hand leaves Holly’s once he has helped her out of the pool, but the assistance is unnecessary considering the shallow steps. Rocco simply enjoys the view it affords him. He passes her a glass of champagne before extending his hand to Lily. She looks uncomfortable, her eyes flicking from his hand to his face before her gaze drifts to me. Her eyes meet mine, narrowing briefly in defiance before she takes the asshole'shand.

Everything happens swiftly. In seconds, I am at the pool edge, my hand around Rocco's neck while the other holds a gun to his head.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Rocco’s smug smile and tan have vanished. Instead, wide, fear-filled eyes and a pasty white face stare back at me. He could never be Don. Look how pathetic he is even now.

“Dominico, please forgive him. He did not know this is your wife-to-be.” Massimo stands nearby, while Nero, Dante, and Matteo flank me.

“I’m not his wife-to-be,” the little whiskey-eyed troublemaker says defiantly, her eyes locked with mine.

Matteo shakes his head, a warning that my little flower chooses to ignore.

“Do you remember what happened the last time someone touched you? Luckily, that was a woman. This is a man,il mio fiorellino. A man who is not me. Do you remember what I told you would happen?” My tone is lethal, and a flicker of panic dances across her face.

When she doesn’t answer, I cock the gun, the sound loud in the silence that this little interaction has created.

I honestly wouldn’t mind using this as an excuse to kill Rocco, and how he looks from me to Lily suggests that he knows this possibility exists.

“Stop, Dominico. It was my fault. I know, and I did it anyway.”

“Why, little flower, would you do something like that?” I ask, already knowing the answer but needing her to say it out loud.

She grits her teeth and looks down, battling with the admission she needs to make. And she will. To save this piece of shit so that her conscience remains clean. I’m not sad that I'm using this waste of oxygen in this way to get what I want. It almost makes me happy. Sowhen I smirk at Rocco, he must think his time is over.

“Please. Tell him,” Rocco pleads with her, the vulnerability in his voice more potent than my gun to his head.

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