Page 17 of Corrupting Lily

“When I heard you were at Agathas, I came immediately.” Dante's eyes meet mine before drifting to the X-rays, the levity on his face disappearing swiftly. The rage I feel has another companion. Dante feels as strongly about this as I do; having grown up in foster care, he, too, experienced things none of us speak of. The fact that he can smile now is sometimes surprising, given everything he has endured. Only Nero and I know the true extent of the horrors he faced.

“Have we received that footage yet?” Dante drags his gaze from the pictures to meet mine.

“You will have everything and more when you get home. They are finishing deep dives on the penthouse owner and all associated parties.” Good. I wanted to know the individuals capable of such violence intimately. Then, I would exact my revenge.

I want to assign some sort of impersonal motive to this. A motive as plain and as uncomplicated as wanting to make a piece of shit woman abuser who is clearly in a position of power and wielding it incorrectly, as a bully would, pay for their crimes.

But it is not detached. The wrath I feel is directly linked to the one at the center of it. The brown-haired, whiskey-eyed flower in the next room. The woman who is infiltrating my being without my consent. A known intruder who I cannot stop. Who I don’t want to stop. Yet,love in my life is dangerous. A weakness to be leveraged, which is why I have avoided it for so long. And it hasn’t been problematic until now.

No one had appealed to me nearly as much in all the years of my existence. Not until now.

“Fuck,” I say aloud, drawing concerned looks from the three men in the room. Doctor Andrews appears most perturbed, pocketing his cell before speaking.

“Physio has been arranged. Twice a week starting tomorrow. The session tomorrow will primarily be an assessment. She can go home, but she must keep off the leg until the swelling subsides.”

With a glance at Matteo and a nod of my head, he leaves to prepare the vehicle parked at the back of the hospital. We had a special arrangement with Agathas. We made generous donations to finance the best medical equipment and expand new wings, and in return, we received discreet service off the books.

“We were never here. If anyone finds out about this, I will assume it is from you. And we know what happens then,” I warn. Doctor Andrews' face pales noticeably at the threat.

“I would never,” he assures, his voice quivering slightly.

“Fine. Dante, sort the doctor out, and I'll meet you outside.” I leave the room as Dante hands the doctor a white envelope with enough money to buy silence and some.

When I enter the private room next door, Lily is not sitting in the hospital bed as I had expected her to be, but instead, sits in the visitor's chair, her leg propped up on a small table.

Her blank gaze meets mine, and irritation wells up, which I shove down. The last thing she needs is me being an asshole. But since we left the dining hall, she has shut down, concealing her emotions from me. It's something she excels at. She could easily be a skilled poker player.

“Time to go.” She gently lowers her propped-up leg back to theground, and I can see that the swelling has already improved.

She moves as if readying herself to stand.

“Don’t. The doctor said you must stay off your leg until the swelling subsides.”

Her eyes meet mine, and for the first time in hours, there is a hint of emotion. Anger.

“I have heard that before, and it’s fine. I can manage. I don’t need pity. Not from you.”

“Not from me,” I repeat, smirking at her words. “If not pity, then what do you need from me?” I tease, taking a few steps toward her.

She blushes and then looks away. Mmm, what indeed. I can already see how my proximity affects her. She is practically panting, the swell of her breasts moving up and down much faster, and a beautiful red flush covers her chest and cheeks. Her nipples are pebbled, pushing against the thin material of her dress, and then there is a slight squeeze of her thighs. She has an itch she cannot scratch.

I know I can. That moment we shared at Eve's has been looping around in my head, torturing me. The sweet taste of her pussy had lingered on the tip of my tongue long after I popped that same finger I had fucked her with into my mouth. Even now, it taunts me, like a delicious meal you cannot forget. It was a mistake. It had left me wanting more. Craving her. I want to get on my knees, push that dress up and eat that beautiful cunt out until her legs quiver and she creams all over my tongue. The thought of it makes me hard. So fucking hard it's painful.

I had never gotten on my knees for anyone, but for her, I would.

That thought fucking scares me. But instead of running in the opposite direction, I scoop her up into my arms, her familiarity in them hitting home.

“Il mio fiorellino, the last thing I feel for you is pity. And the lastthing you feel for me is indifference. So stop trying to hide your feelings.”

Her eyes widen, and her blush deepens, yet she holds my gaze—brave little Lily.

We walk out of the room and down the corridor, the looks of astonishment we receive unchanged since our arrival.

“I could have walked,” she says softly, her eyes fixed on my face.

“You could have, but this is much quicker.” She doesn’t respond, but instead, her gaze drifts to where her hands are around my neck—the same as earlier when we left the hall. The desire I had seen before, masked by whatever façade she felt she needed to maintain, is back.

That’s when I feel it, the slight shift of her hand before her thumb strokes my neck.

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