Page 48 of Corrupting Lily

I stand up, feeling like being on the bed puts me at a disadvantage, probably like Lorenzo felt cupping his dick in the office at Mirra.

“What is happening here, Dominico? I don’t understand anything. You took me from my home, my job with Basilio, to do what with? What is the end game here? I’m not adept at seeing the game being played as easily as everyone else seems to be. It’s not for fortune, clearly. It’s not to claim the bounty; otherwise, you would have done that ages ago. So what are you doing with me? Why are you marrying me?”

His silver-grey eyes hold mine as he waits for me to calm down.

My heart skips a beat as I answer these questions with the response I want, their importance weighing on me like a ton of bricks. Deep down, I secretly wish this man wanted me because he feels the same way I do about him.

I am falling in love with him.

It was as clear as the feelings between Nero and Holly. But there was no clarity with Dominico.

“Because you are mine, Lily.”

I nod and break eye contact, hoping he doesn’t see the disappointment in my eyes.

Mine. The word that once made me feel special now fills me with dread as I realize my feelings for him are edging into a realm where I could be destroyed. Still, it tells me everything I need to know. He has revealed my use.

An object. A trophy. Just like I was to Johnathan. And so I will be precisely that. Resolute, I begin reconstructing the walls I had started to tear down, which have kept me safe thus far.

No one will get in, not even Dominico.

Chapter 30

Dominico

Something is wrong with Lily.

Since our conversation in the room on the jet, she has barely reacted, even after we arrived at my family villa in Tuscany, which sits atop a beautiful piece of land with a panoramic view of the countryside. Twenty guests make up our entourage, with the rest arriving over the next two days. Twice as many guards stand watch while Matteo remains close by, his eyes always on Lily. Yet even in this beautiful place and safe environment, she is reserved, not participating in the lively conversation around her. Her gaze remains fixed on a point to the left; I would guess that if she removed her sunglasses, her eyes would reveal a detached, out-of-focus expression beneath them.

When we arrived yesterday, she told me she wasn’t feeling well and went to lie down. Later that evening, she insisted on sleeping in a separate room, saying it was normal for a soon-to-be-married couple to stay apart leading up to the wedding day. It was a poor excuse, but I gave in when I saw the look on her face—the brief glint of hurt thatflitted across her features.

Now, it seems she has completely checked out. Even Holly commented on how robotic Lily appeared during the dress fitting this morning, not giving her opinion on anything. Mia, who arrived early this morning with her husband, had gone along, hoping to form a bond with the woman who would be my wife. She returned worried, telling me how Lily instructed the seamstress to do whatever I wanted, as if I cared about what she wore. She could be dressed in a burlap sack, and I wouldn’t give two fucks. But I wanted her to have a dress fit for a Queen. I wanted her to have the best.

"Don't worry, brother, I'm sure it's just a lot for her to take in. She doesn't come from this world, anyone in her shoes would find it intimidating," Mia says, squeezing my arm reassuringly before leaving to join her husband at a table nearby.

“She probably just has pre-wedding jitters,” Nero says, his gaze tracking mine as he hands me a cigar.

“Maybe.” I watch Lily get up, not even looking at anyone before wandering back toward the mansion.

Even though this marriage was somewhat forced on her, I can tell she has feelings for me. Her not-so-secret glances at me when she thought I wasn’t looking, her trust in me, which I knew was not easily given, and then there was her body's response to me. All our interactions were filled with feelings. So why did it now seem like she didn’t want any of it? She was pushing me away, and I didn’t know why. I replayed the conversation in my head over and over, looking for the moment when it all changed. Usually, I could read her easily, but with her being tipsy, her emotional state had become chaotic, and who knows how she interpreted my responses? When I asked her what she wanted, she said she wanted to know me. Perhaps that was what was needed to solve this problem.

Determined to get past whatever this was, I get up and head inside. Lily is not in her room or the library, where I thought she would be. Instead, I find her in the large drawing room. What better place for us to start this whole ‘her getting to know me’ thing than this room full of pictures and paintings? A room filled mainly with painful memories. Mia never comes in here when she visits. I don't blame her.

I nod to Matteo, standing outside, a silent order for him to leave us.

Lily stands in front of a large portrait of my mother and father.

“I got my looks from my father, but that is all.” Lily jumps in fright as her gaze whips toward me. She has removed her sunglasses, making her expression easier to read.

Her eyes sweep over my body before she looks back at the painting—a deceptive one. My mother's smiling face, with my father lovingly wrapping his arm around her shoulder, was a ruse. A minute after it was finished, my father backhanded her because, during their sitting, she asked if I could be in one of the pictures. The answer was clearly no. That’s why there were so few paintings or pictures that included me.

“Was your father always abusive?” she asks, not looking at me as she moves on to the next painting, one of my grandparents.

“Not always. My mother says it only started when I was born. He had hoped for a daughter. Having a son when he was still so young was a threat to him. Ironically, it was his very behavior towards us that made me into the thing he feared most. By the time the daughter he wanted, Mia, arrived, his resentment toward my mother and me was like a cancer he could not get rid of.”

“Did you always want to be the Don, like your father?” She strolls around the furniture dotting the room while I follow at a small distance behind.

“I was voted in after I killed him.” She nods, and while I can’t seeher face, this information doesn’t even seem to startle her. I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed or worried.

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