Page 59 of Lilies from Hell

First I head for the exit. When I can’t find her, I go to the restrooms. A squeaking sound behind me makes me turn my head there.

“This is the women’s restroom,” Bianca remarks, coming out of one of the stalls. I ignore her, washing my hands and removing the bloodstains from my body. “I didn’t know you had a thing with the Easton’s daughter. That’s interesting.”

“Stop sticking your ugly nose where it doesn’t belong,” I say calmly without denying it. Under different circumstances, I would have made it clear that neither of us would ever be free for anyone else in this life or the next ones.

“That’s a shame. I wanted her for myself.” I look up until our eyes meet in the mirror. She is fucking serious.

“Dare to look at her for a second and I swear I’ll screw any deal I have with Francesco, starting with gouging out your eyes.” My words are clear, but not enough to wipe the smile off her red-painted lips.

I forget about scrubbing my face and the rest of the blood and throw the dirty paper towels in the trash, walking angrily toward the exit. Now I’m even more eager to get rid of my unwanted dear guest. If necessary, I would kick her back to Italy myself.

“Here’s your money,” says the man in charge of the bets, handing me an envelope that I refuse. “Whatever you say.” He smiles, putting the envelope in his pocket. “And be more careful next time. At this rate, you’re going to leave me without any participants.”

“Tell them to train harder,” I retort, putting a cigarette to my lips as I wait for Denis to get out.

By the time I flick the cigarette butt on the ground, he appears at the door with a cocky smile.

“Do you mind if I stay a while? Things have gotten interesting around here.” He points to the red makeup stains on the hem of his T-shirt.

“I want to see you up at the usual time tomorrow. We have three whole trucks.”

“You can count on it.” He gives me a thumbs up as he speaks. It takes less than the blink of an eye for him to disappear, and I shake my head, suppressing a smile as I get on the motorcycle and start the engine.

I don’t know when I changed the address from my house to hers. The route is tattooed on my skin, and it isn’t difficult to get into the house. They only have a stupid fucking alarm as a security measure, and probably now everyone is deep asleep. Including the bodyguards.

I try to be as quiet as possible as I climb the walls and open the door of her balcony to her room. I close the door and approach the bed. I’m so immersed in her face that I don’t notice the wrapper from an energy bar on the floor as I step over it. The sound causes her to stir in bed, her eyes still closed.

I thought she was still asleep, but within seconds she opens her eyes. She then opens her mouth, ready to scream, probably frightened by the balaclava covering my face and the leftover blood on my naked torso. Before she can do it I cover her mouth with my hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Please don’t scream,” I murmur in a low whisper.

I don’t remove the mask that covers my entire face except for my eyes. I’m too absorbed in watching her, as if she’s some kind of goddess, to remember that detail. She’s more than just a goddess.

I want to ask her about her father. Knowing who is to blame, guilt is eating away at me. But that’s soon forgotten when I hear her voice.

“What are you doing here?” She asks in a whisper, sitting up in bed. “And why are you covered in blood?”

“I need you,” I admit in a barely audible whisper.

I’m kneeling before her, revealing how much I need her and almost begging for her forgiveness. She could laugh in my face or tell me to fuck off and I wouldn’t care. After all, my heart and soul had long since ceased to belong to me, and I don’t want them back.

She lowers her head, realizing that part of her panties are visible, and immediately covers herself with a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, yeah? And what for?” She asks with a sly smile playing on her lips. I know she got what I really meant, but I do answer anyway.

I love that fucking mouth of hers. I knew from the moment I found her smoking weed in her school that it would be part of my total downfall for her, as well as the main reason my hands would always be printed on her ass.

“To sleep, to eat, to breathe, to live. I need you for everything, Lena.” It was usually easy for me to read what was hidden behind the wonderful green of her eyes, but this time it’s hard to guess.

“Is it true that we were dating?” Her question makes me frown with displeasure.

“Yes. It is,” I spit through clenched teeth.

“How did it end? Why did we break up?”

“Who said it ended?” I ask in a low, almost sarcastic tone.

“Grace said we were dating, but she wasn’t sure, that it was just a rumor.”