Page 14 of His Dark Discipline

“Let me ask you something, Rachel. And this is just a hypothetical, but if you were in love with a guy, but you knew that him getting involved with you would be bad for him, would you pursue him? Or would you make the right decision and push him away?”

Rachel, who is the pinnacle of sweet, working-class women in America, bites her lip as she looks up and ponders at the ceiling. “Well, gosh! That’s a good question. How hot is he on a one-to-ten scale?”

“A ten,” I chuckle, which causes Rachel to blow her cheeks out and put a hand on her hip.

“Then nope,” she laughs. “I’d ruin that poor bastard’s life!”

I laugh, not because what Rachel’s said is funny, but because it’s cruelly true as well. I am considering ruining Lily’s life by keeping her with me. Lord knows she needs me to protect her from those boys she has no idea about. I would have thought Marla could have handled things, but I guess not.

Every girl needs a daddy…

As Rachel walks back to the kitchen, a realization hits me.

Love…I said love.

“Jesus.”

I hang my head and call upon all my strength. I really am losing control. Thinking of making an 18-year-old-girl a mob boss’ girl? His wife? Marla knew the risks when she married me, and she was never as innocent as her daughter. Bringing Lily into this would be a sin I could never escape.

I’d leave the life for her if I could. But not even I could do that.

I’ve been an unwilling FBI informant for years now. One of my men got caught on a job and gave me up. I thought I was finished, but this real prick, Agent Chris Thompson, gave me a choice. Die in prison or give up my competitors.

Well, that’s no kind of choice at all. I’m no rat, but those boys had never done shit for me, so I gave up the big boys. The feds let me take over their territory so long as I gave them a percentage. A hefty percentage. I could handle that, but there was an addendum; I was never allowed to leave.

Having one criminal enterprise to look out for makes the Fed’s lives easier, and why get rid of a good earner? They’d rather have me running things than a bunch of guys they don’t know. Chris told me that if I ever even tried to retire, he’d see me behind bars.

Sometimes I wonder who’s the greater criminal, him or me.

The chimes at the door ring, and I look up, realizing I may be about to get my answer.

“Scar, ol’ buddy!” Agent Chris Thompson grins as he comes over and takes a seat in front of me, a couple of his boys waiting by the door. “How the hell are ya?”

6

Lily

Damon didn’t come home last night, and it’s because of me.

He thinks he doesn’t deserve me, and I don’t even know how to process that, because that’s exactly how I feel about him.

I’m just a naïve eighteen-year-old girl who’s never had sex, and aside from last night, had never even kissed a man. Meanwhile, Damon is a worldly stud who’s probably had thousands of girls. All I would do is disappoint him. He should be pushing me away because he doesn’t want me. Not because he’s afraid of bringing me into his life.

If I close my eyes, I can still feel the sting on my ass from where he spanked me. God, that was amazing. There must be something wrong with me, but even if there is, I don’t care. I’d give anything to be bent over his knees again while he punished me and told me just how bad of a girl I am.

Without my phone, there’s not much to do in my cell-like bedroom, so I go to the door and try the knob. I half expect it to be locked, but instead, I find a clothing rack filled with shirts, sweaters and jackets, and several boxes of skirts, dresses and even lingerie…

An odd gift from a man who supposedly is trying to keep his hands off me. “I’m surprised it isn’t something the Amish would wear.”

I’m about to leave the gifts behind and head downstairs to explore the house when an idea springs into my mind – a devious, naughty idea that causes the corner of my lips to curl into a devilish smile.

Ignoring the practical clothes, I take the box of lingerie into the bedroom and pick out one of them. Sea-foam blue, a bra with matching panties that are almost see-through, along with a pair of stockings and a garter belt to complete the outfit. As I put it on, I almost feel like a Victoria’s Secret model.

“There we go.” I smile, smacking my lips as I examine myself in the mirror. This wasn’t what Damon had in mind when he bought it, I’m sure.

Two of his men are standing by the front door when I come downstairs. One of them manages to keep a straight face, but the other practically licks his lips before his buddy gives him a warning elbow in the ribs.

“Boss says you’re not allowed outside the house.” He coughs.

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