Page 20 of Corrupting Lily

This was a far more dangerous place to be—a place where hope bloomed.

It was bound to come crashing down, perhaps sooner than I think.

Almost no one is around as we walk through the mansion, but just because I can't see them, doesn't mean they aren't there.

The door we approach has an intricate design carved into the wood, and when we enter, the smell of smoke and spice, along with the furnishings, informs me we are in Dominico's office.

He places me in a chair opposite him and rounds the desk to sit behind it.

Shit. Suddenly, I don't feel so safe anymore. Not when he holds a cigar up, snips the tip, lights it, and then leans back in his chair, staring at me in that intense way that makes me squirm. Smoke swirls,permeating the air. I feel like I cannot breathe, but it is not because of that. I'm not in this office for no reason. I wonder how many people who have sat in this same chair are now dead. Whatever he wants with me, I will probably find out now. Stupidly, I thought that perhaps, just maybe, he cared for me. Wanted me around for something other than business. How naive can I be? But his following words are not what I expect.

"We saw the X-rays." I nod slowly, acknowledging his words as I wait for the rest.

"The old injuries, where are they from?" I suspect he already knows, but a man like him wants to hear them from the source. To judge their validity, to gather information that words cannot convey. Emotions. Reactions. Things he can use. I'm under no delusion that the Don of the Mafia is not a shrewd man. He has not gotten to where he is being cute and cuddly.

There was also no point in lying. He would see that for what it was, too, but the punishment might not be the kind I like.

"My parents." He nods and then puffs, his gaze never leaving mine.

"More,il mio fiorellino.I need more than that."Of course he does, I already knew this.

"What is it you want to know? How they used to lock me in a crate when I was smaller, just because I asked for some butter on my bread? The few times they actually bothered to feed me. Or that my father molested me when my mother was passed out, which was more often than I liked, and when I told her, she beat me so severely, I thought I might die. I actually wish I did. Perhaps you want to know how father rented me out to some of his buddies for a six pack, buddies who smelled of beer and took much more than a six pack is worth. Is that what you want to hear, Dominico? How I became so broken? So broken that when I tried to escape it, I landed right back inthe same situation, except my crate was replaced with a much more luxurious prison."

Tears brim in my eyes as I choke back a sob, all these unwelcome memories flooding me. Drowning me.

Does he even care?

"Your parents are dead. They suffered immensely. Everything they did to you was done to them a hundred times over."

My eyes flare, and my heart dips into my stomach. I should feel bad about it. But I don't.

Silver-grey eyes reflect the same lack of remorse mine do, and he must recognize this.

"Good. Let's move on then."

As quickly as he wants to brush over this incident, I can't.

"You killed them for me? Why?"

"Because they are scum and they hurt you."

How much should I read into that?

"Now, speaking of scum," he says, turning the screen on his desk to face me.

Dark blue eyes stare back at me.

It'shim.

Chapter 14

Dominico

I could carry her around all day. The way her scent engulfed me as I did. The weight of her hands around my neck. The way her chest rose and fell as she tried to contain how I made her feel physically. It was like a hit of something strong. A drug that had no comparison. And then there were her eyes. Pools of whiskey I could get lost in for hours, days without a concept of time. I could drown in them and not even know I was dying until it was too late. Like a true alcoholic, except my addiction was everything about her. The slow claws of this infatuation caught me off guard. And I wondered how I would overcome it. For it could never be.

She was a pawn—a powerful one, I suspected. Not utilizing her would be foolish and scandalous if anyone else found out. A weakness. They might think she meant something to me, and that would be dangerous. Killing her parents, and I use that term fucking loosely, probably already gave that impression.

Yet, as I glance at her, seated in the oversized chair across from mydesk, the urge to venture into those perilous waters is powerful.

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