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Bethany Fryers was the first girl I fucked.
She was the first girl I fucked so hard it hurt her, and that thrilled me more than ever.
I was like a demon possessed as I hunted down other pretty girls I wanted to be inside of, and I found them. Found the ones who craved the sort of pain I dished out, needed it so much they’d beg me for it. I found so many of them I lost count through the years.
Father knew about it. I think eventually one of the girls’ daddies found out about what I was doing and confronted him at Morelli Holdings.
I was scared shitless as he walked into my room one evening with that dangerous look in his eyes. I knew he knew. I could see it before he said a word.
I wondered what he was going to do to punish me, seeing as his belt would make no difference whatsoever, not like it did with my brothers. As it turns out, he didn’t punish me. He sat down on the bed next to me with a strange smile on his face.
“I always knew you’d be a nasty boy,” he said to me. “Believe me, Lucian, it’s a good thing. You need to be a strong, nasty man to lead the Morelli Empire. One day, you’ll need it.”
I nodded, because I knew he was right, even at that age. I’d heard about it in whispers, all the bad things my family did to people, and how it made us so rich and strong.
Father put his hand on my back before he carried on speaking, and I felt so close to him that it gave me a weird pang in my gut.
“Hurt people, and enjoy it,” he told me. “Hurt women, and enjoy it. Just make sure you keep it a secret. You’re always much more powerful when you keep things a secret, no matter what you have to do to keep them that way.”
“I will,” I said. “I’ll always keep it a secret.”
“Good boy,” he said, and ruffled my hair. “You really will be a great Morelli leader, you know that? Don’t worry about Kelly Victon’s father, he won’t be causing you any trouble.”
With that he was gone, and he never mentioned it again.
It didn’t matter how many people I hurt, or how many girls I touched, or how many boys I beat up until I was their ruler – he never mentioned it again.
Neither had I. Other than forging the Violent Delights BDSM club with Clark Vendana and signing Rex Halloway up for my virgin purchases, and Trenton Alto knowing way more about me than he should, I hadn’t spilled myself to anyone.
So why the holy fuck was I tempted to spill myself to Elaine Constantine?17ElaineMy insides were going crazy with nerves and flutters. That curiosity I knew so well was going wild inside me, desperate to know just what Lucian Morelli was hiding from the world.
He was quiet and brooding as he made another coffee, his hand still bleeding into the towel. I wondered if he needed a doctor for stitches, but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, and his hand seemed to be working just fine.
I didn’t push him, didn’t speak, just let him churn in his darkness. The thrill and hope was already burning deep inside me that maybe, just maybe, he’d tell me something. Anything. Just something to give my curiosity one little tickle.
Curiosity killed the cat, of course. I knew that. Still, I didn’t care. This cat was probably dying anyway.
“If you stab anyone in the hand again, you want to make sure you do it more centrally. You barely cut more than skin.”
If. If I stab anyone in the hand. Like I was ever going to see anyone.
I nodded at him. “Sure thing. I guess I’m a crappy hand stabber, my bad.”
He smirked, unable to hide the amusement, even though I’d just sliced him open.
“You have such an impudent little tongue on you, Elaine,” he said. “Some people might even find it funny.”
Some people like him, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
Still I kept quiet, letting him churn, letting him think. I couldn’t even imagine what went on inside a mind like Lucian’s. He was such a different creature to me that the very idea of the life inside of him must be like an alien planet. Or maybe the depths of hell.
I pretended not to care so much about what he might tell me, but it was a pointless exercise, I’m sure it was blatantly obvious that I was desperate to know. My thighs were still sore from the places I’d sliced them, but I didn’t give a crap about that anymore. I didn’t feel the need for that anymore. All I had need for was the words of the monster in front of me as he sipped at his coffee.
